Perhaps because they had eaten too much, the two of them grew drowsier as they lay there. Struggling to get up, they cleaned up briefly before Guan Xia and Pang Le washed up and went to bed.
As the saying goes, thoughts by day become dreams by night. Guan Xia, who usually slept soundly, ended up having a dream that evening.
She dreamed of the evening she returned from her trip, pushing a heavy suitcase down the narrow first-floor hallway when she came face-to-face with a man wearing a cap and dressed in blue work clothes.
The man had an ordinary face—square-shaped, with narrow eyes, messy eyebrows, and a high, straight nose. But these features on a square face gave off an unsettling, almost uncanny vibe.
Unable to help herself, Guan Xia stole a few extra glances before sidestepping to let him pass.
Perhaps because she was leaning on a hiking pole, her stiff legs making her look like a disabled person, the man’s expressionless face softened into a faint smile. He pressed himself closer to the wall, making more room for her, and kindly asked, "Need any help?"
A simple question, but in the dream, it began looping eerily, growing louder and louder until it became deafening, dizzying.
That was when Guan Xia jolted awake.
Though it was just a normal memory, she woke up drenched in cold sweat, shivering uncontrollably in the mild night air.
Instinctively, she turned to look at Pang Le sleeping beside her, as if seeking reassurance. Slowly, the fear gripping her heart began to ease.
Grabbing a tissue to wipe the sweat from her face, Guan Xia lay back down. As she drifted between sleep and wakefulness, it suddenly struck her—why the man’s voice in the supermarket earlier had sounded familiar. The tone, the cadence—it was identical to that repairman she’d encountered that night.
The realization sent a jolt of terror through her.
For a second, she wondered if she was overthinking it, but she dismissed the doubt immediately. She trusted her instincts—they were definitely the same person.
The certainty made her heart pound violently, goosebumps rising on her back.
The pitch-black night magnified her fear. And then—was it her imagination?—through the narrow gap under the door, she thought she heard a faint noise in the living room.
A horrifying possibility flooded her mind, leaving her weak and dizzy, her thoughts blank.
She didn’t know how long she froze, but when she snapped out of it, her first instinct was to scramble out of bed and lunge for the door, locking it in a frenzy.
The loud thud against the door startled Pang Le awake. Flipping on the bedside lamp, she saw Guan Xia desperately dragging the dresser and gasped, "Guan Xia, what are you doing?"
Guan Xia didn’t answer until she’d shoved the dresser against the door, panting heavily. "The killer—the man we saw at the supermarket tonight—he’s the killer."
Pang Le blinked in confusion for a split second before understanding hit. She sucked in a sharp breath. "The serial killer from your building?"
Now that they were temporarily safe, Guan Xia’s legs felt even weaker. She gripped the dresser to stay upright and nodded firmly.
Without hesitation, Pang Le jumped out of bed and hauled both nightstands over to barricade the door, pressing her weight against the makeshift barricade. "Call the police," she urged. "You have the detective’s number working the case—call him directly."
Guan Xia fumbled a quick agreement, grabbing her phone from under the pillow and dialing.
As the call connected, she worried it might go unanswered, but after a few rings, the familiar voice of the detective answered, "Ms. Guan? It’s late—is something wrong?"
The moment he spoke, the system interface in Guan Xia’s mind, which had been silent for so long, suddenly flickered to life. Words flashed across it:
You’ve been questioned by the police. You suddenly remember—on April 27th at 10:09 PM, while buying groceries, you encountered a nervous young man. His voice sounded familiar. You realize with sharp clarity: he’s the same repairman you met on April 19th at 5:53 PM. You decide to tell the police.
Maybe because fear had numbed her, the system’s abrupt appearance didn’t startle her. But its confirmation of her suspicions made her legs buckle further. Even trying to steady her voice, she couldn’t hide the tremor. "Officer, the repairman—that repairman—he was at Jiafu Supermarket near Seasons Cloud Heights tonight. I recognize his voice."
Stumbling through the words, Guan Xia heard the detective’s tone shift instantly. "Are you safe right now?" he asked urgently.
Guan Xia instinctively looked at Pang Le, who was still bracing against the furniture, giving her a reassuring smile.
It steadied her slightly. "For now," she answered tersely. "But I don’t know if he’s outside."
"Don’t hang up," the detective said before the sound of rapid footsteps followed—likely him rushing to gather backup.
After a few seconds, silence returned. Guan Xia guessed he’d muted the line.
Pang Le seized the moment. "If he tries to break in, I’ll hold him off. You run—hit the fire alarm in the hallway, wake up the whole building. That’s how you help me. Got it?"
It was the first time Pang Le had ever spoken to her so gravely. Guan Xia’s mind flashed to the image of Pang Le fighting for her life, and tears threatened to spill.
Pang Le’s voice sharpened. "Got it?"
Guan Xia took a deep breath, wiped her face roughly, and nodded hard.
Only then did Pang Le relax slightly, slipping back into her usual confident tone. "Relax. Who am I? Trained in martial arts since I was three, world champion in women’s 50kg boxing at 21. No way some amateur’s taking me down. Hell, maybe I’ll even bag a Good Samaritan award tonight."
Guan Xia was already on edge, and Pang Le’s words—sounding like a jinx—made her panic worse. She glared. "Don’t say things like that!"
Pang Le seemed to realize her mistake too late. Before she could respond, the sound of the elevator rising echoed from outside.
They locked eyes. Guan Xia immediately spoke into the phone, still on speaker: "The elevator just stopped. Officer—he’s in the hallway."
