C2 People Who Read Their Fortunes

The whole situation left me feeling unnerved, as if I'd encountered something sinister. I was too apprehensive to confide in Ms. Liu, fearing she might reprimand me for not shutting down the elevator on time and causing a delay in work. The following day, I went to work with a jade amulet from the temple on me, mulling over whether I had come into contact with something impure. I saw it as a psychological comfort. Growing up in the countryside, I was regaled with bizarre tales by the elders, and despite being fearless by nature, these unexplainable odd occurrences in the dead of night were truly unsettling.

Around eleven that night, I was dozing off in the surveillance room when the phone's ring jolted me awake. It was the first time I'd heard it ring, and it took me a while to answer. Unexpectedly, it was a resident calling to complain. He said he was on the seventh floor and his security door had malfunctioned, trapping him inside. He asked for my assistance. Without hesitation, I agreed to help and headed up with my tools. Upon arrival, I encountered the caller, Wang Tao. He was a dark-complexioned man, dressed casually in a vest and cap, who apologized for the inconvenience, as he had managed to fix the door himself. I told him I was glad to hear it and was about to head back when he suggested we leave together since he was on his way out.

During our time in the elevator, we struck up a casual conversation. Wang Tao, a man in his thirties, owned a renovation company in the southern part of the city. He had purchased this apartment during his early entrepreneurial days and mentioned it had been a while since his last visit. His easygoing nature led me to inquire about the building's eeriness at night and whether it was due to a low number of residents.

Glancing at his watch, Wang Tao chuckled and remarked, "You've got about ten minutes left before you need to shut down the elevator, right?"

I let out a surprised yelp. Wang Tao gave a sly grin, claiming there was nothing he didn't know. He told me that the building had once been the site of a devastating fire, claiming the lives of over a hundred people. He warned that if the elevator wasn't shut down by midnight, you might run into something unpleasant. A chill ran down my spine; I was already on edge from last night's events, and his words only heightened my fear. "Come on, man, don't mess with me," I said. "I've been working here for over half a month and haven't seen anything out of the ordinary."

Wang Tao's smile was reminiscent of a benevolent Maitreya Buddha. "My friend, you must believe in fate," he advised. "It's not always a matter of not encountering things; sometimes, you just don't realize you have."

Somehow, after Wang Tao's remarks, the air around us seemed to grow colder. He went on, "Before you started, did anyone mention that you need to be mindful of three specific things? First, don't open the main door at night. Second, the elevator shuts down promptly at midnight. And third, never go to the 14th floor."

I felt a jolt of alarm. "That all sounds pretty standard," I responded. "For the safety of the building, it makes sense to close the elevator at night and keep the main door locked. But nobody mentioned anything about the 14th floor to me, not even Ms. Liu."

Wang Tao yawned, "Well, of course she couldn't tell you. If she did, you might have bolted. From what I know, three office staff have died before you, none lasting more than a month."

I shot him a skeptical look. "You should watch it with the jokes. If so many people have really died here, why hasn't the building been condemned and demolished by the police? And about these deaths before me, there's been no news on TV or online. Something that serious wouldn't just be ignored."

Wang Tao shrugged. "Believe it or not, that's your choice. But we're destined acquaintances, so how about I read your palm for you?"

Despite Wang Tao's friendly demeanor and disarming conversation, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him. He insisted it was out of kindness, explaining that a person's palm lines are a map of their life's journey, offering more nuance than facial features. Hesitantly, I spread out my left hand for him to examine. He scrutinized it intently, furrowing his brow for a minute or two. We stood there like statues by the elevator doors. "Did you suffer from tuberculosis as a child?" he asked suddenly. I was taken aback. "How could you possibly know that?" I asked. Wang Tao simply replied, "Nonsense. Let me study it a bit more."

Wang Tao shared a few trivial matters, but none struck a chord with me. I was about to inquire about his perspective when he abruptly looked up and asked my age. I promptly replied that I was twenty-one. He nodded, asking if I was born in April according to the lunar calendar. Surprised, I confirmed that indeed, it was the fourth day of the fourth lunar month. Wang Tao smiled knowingly and warned me, no matter what, to avoid the 14th floor at all costs. He cautioned that it could be a matter of life or death!

Wasn't the 14th floor where that beautiful woman went up last night?

His words startled me, yet Wang Tao's demeanor was far from jesting. We conversed a bit more, and I tried to find out why the 14th floor was off-limits, but he was evasive and changed the subject, reminding me that it was nearly midnight. Before leaving, he reiterated his warning to steer clear of the 14th floor under any circumstances.

In a rush, I went to shut down the elevator. After turning off the power and heading back, I abruptly heard voices in the hallway. I paused to listen, but as quickly as they appeared, they vanished.

Back in the security room, with time to kill, I pulled out my phone to entertain myself and noticed several unread messages. Opening them, I discovered they were pranks from friends. However, reading the last line sent a shiver down my spine: "Just a friendly reminder: Today is the Ghost Festival. Don't wander around outside!"

I tossed my phone aside, annoyed at my friends for their insensitivity. They knew I was alone on duty in this eerie building and still chose to send such messages to frighten me. Shaking my head, I resolved to ignore the nonsense and refocused my attention on the surveillance screens.

Perhaps I had been watching too long, or the lack of activity was lulling me into drowsiness, but I found myself nodding off again. It was only the sound of knocking at the security room door that jolted me awake. Rubbing my eyes to ensure I wasn't mistaken, I quickly made my way to the door to open it.

The girl at the door was clutching a toy, seemingly around 15 or 16 years old. She was quite adorable, but her face was streaked with tears as she hesitantly said, "Brother, my parents are fighting. I'm scared. Can I stay here for a bit?"

I sighed inwardly, pondering why affluent folks seemed to enjoy bickering instead of living peacefully. I asked her if she was from the fourteenth floor. She looked surprised, then shook her head, saying she lived on the third floor.

I gave a sheepish grin and invited her in, thinking to myself that the woman from yesterday wasn't much older than me; how could she have a daughter this age? I must have been groggy.

She took a seat on the couch while I returned to my desk and resumed work. Her soft sobs tugged at my heartstrings, so I went over to comfort her, offering to call her parents to come get her. She adamantly shook her head no. I figured that even in the midst of an argument, parents wouldn't let it affect their child.

I reassured her that there couldn't be parents that cruel in the world and suggested that her parents might come looking for her soon.

She nodded and said, "I actually hope they don't."

Curious, I asked her why she felt that way.

She revealed that those weren't her biological parents; she was adopted.

I was taken aback, at a loss for words. After a brief pause, I encouraged her not to be upset and to make herself at home. If she felt sleepy, she could rest on the couch.

Lifting her head, she said, "Brother, I'm a bit cold. Could you get me a jacket?"

I smiled, ruffled her hair, and said, "Sure." I took off my jacket and draped it over her, then advised her not to worry too much.

Back at my seat, I yawned. The girl whispered, "Brother, if you're sleepy, go ahead and take a nap. I'll wake you if anything comes up."

I marveled at how well-behaved she was and how unfortunate it was that her adoptive parents didn't appreciate her. Another yawn escaped me as I replied wearily, "I appreciate it. I'll just rest my eyes for a little while."

When I woke up, the girl was nowhere to be seen. I figured she must have gone home or her parents picked her up. I searched around but couldn't find my jacket; I suspected the little girl might have taken it with her.

The next day, I got a call from Ms. Liu. She informed me that she had hired an office assistant who would be sharing shifts with me to prevent me from getting too exhausted and compromising my work. Ms. Liu then inquired if anything unusual had happened over the last few days. After pondering for a moment, I assured her that all was well. She said, "Okay, I'll come by to see you tonight."

Upon returning to the dorm, all my roommates were present, but their usual greetings were replaced by perplexed stares. Elder Zhang approached me, forcing a smile, and said, "Lee Fan, you've lost a lot of weight lately. Maybe you should take a break from work; it seems to be taking a toll on you."

With a bitter smile, I replied, "Old Zhang, night shifts are tough, but as you know, my family's going through a rough patch. My dad's been hospitalized and we've racked up quite a bit of debt to relatives."

Old Zhang's expression turned grave. Another roommate handed me a newspaper, urging in a hushed tone, "Take a look for yourself."

At first, I assumed they were concerned about my health, especially since I was exhausted upon arrival. However, the headline on the newspaper jolted me awake. Old Zhang whispered, "Lee Fan, is the place mentioned in the article where you work?"

I nodded, but my focus wasn't on the 'XX Building's severe fire causing 90 fatalities and over 100 injuries...' Instead, it was the paragraph below the headline that caught my attention: "Due to an argument between a couple living on the third floor, the woman, acting on impulse, turned on the gas and lit it, leading to a massive explosion, and... Eventually, the couple and their child perished in the fire, with the deceased child being only 17 years old..." I couldn't bring myself to read any further, but the photo of the young girl attached to the newspaper caused me to collapse onto my bed.

In a low voice, Old Zhang revealed, "We came across this report while selling scrap paper today. The incident occurred over a year ago. But that's not the most shocking part... it turns out that building was a Ghost Building!"