As dusk fell, the hallway gradually bustled with people coming and going.
In the ground-floor security booth, the television blared—a young man on-screen holding forth. Several grandmothers gathered downstairs enjoying the cool air, commenting on the young men and women passing by. Children home from school raced back and forth, trailed by the scolding of parents.
Today's mortal world was as lively as ever.
Lian Xia returned to 404. Just as she was about to unlock the door, a young man in a red T-shirt and black helmet came toward her, hauling two large wooden crates.
"Excuse me... could I have those shipping pallets?"
"Huh? What for?"
"My bed board's broken. I want to make a new one."
"Oh, sure..."
The delivery guy was a kind soul, swiftly knocking the wooden slats free from the packaging and thoughtfully removing the nails. "I'll have more big deliveries in a few days. Want me to bring you some more?"
"That'd be great, thanks!"
Not wanting to take charity for nothing, she enthusiastically offered him a slice of cake that was sickeningly sweet.
Perhaps mistaking her gesture, the delivery guy deliberately left behind a waybill with his name and number before leaving.
Lian Xia didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She glanced at it once and tucked the paper into her pocket.
Starving, she dashed into the kitchen the moment she was inside and cooked herself a bowl of egg noodles, not forgetting to toss in those few thin mushrooms.
Minutes later, the steaming bowl of soup noodles emerged, glistening with oil, the aroma alone mouthwatering. She lowered her head to sip the broth—fresh and savory, a sweet aftertaste lingering on her tongue. The finest flavors of this world, nothing more!
Right now, Lian Xia was lost in the bliss of her mushroom noodle soup, completely unaware that two long legs were dangling directly above her head.
That "person" looked down, scrutinizing her with cold, dark eyes.
During the daytime, he had driven that aggressive woman onto the bed board, and made her jump and scramble. Only, the old man's eyes were too dim to see him, which was how the girl had been allowed to move in at all.
From dawn until the rooster crowed, his strength gradually waned, only returning when night fell.
So this temporary ceasefire didn't mean he was showing mercy—it was merely the prelude to the next eruption.
Inside the room, there was no breeze, yet an inexplicable chill hung in the air.
The girl shivered and glanced behind her, looking somewhat afraid.
Naturally, there was nothing there.
Uneasy, she set down her bowl and stood up.
The ghostly man watched as she dumped out a tangled cluster of fairy lights from a plastic bag, a handful of incense sticks, and something shaped like an overturned little pot, covered in what appeared to be a thick layer of patina.
Judging by sight alone, the patina alone must have weighed a solid half-pound.
He gave a cold snort, and his form descended from the ceiling, gradually solidifying behind her...
"Dah!"
Lian Xia gave a mighty shout, startling the man back up to the ceiling.
That wasn't all—she then struck a stance resembling a horse stance, as though about to unleash a special move, but after holding the pose for a long time with no follow-through, her expression grew confused.
"...What was that ritual the shopkeeper said to ward off evil?"
He: "..."
"I'm so stupid, really. I can't believe I actually fell for the idea that ghosts exist... Never mind, let me just have a bowl of noodles to calm my nerves."
The girl shook her head, her mood seesawing between skepticism and hope.
But just to be safe, she turned over the object on the table. It had symmetrical handles, sat four-square and stable, and was covered inside and out with verdigris that nearly obscured the faintly incised talismanic patterns. It had an unmistakable air of antiquity.
This wasn't some piece of junk—it was an incense burner!
She pinched three sticks of incense, lit them, and carefully inserted them into the base of the burner.
"I know the rules. From now on, you're my sublandlord. As long as I have a bite to eat, I'll keep you supplied with incense every day."
Say this for her—she was a master of both the stick and the carrot. When hard methods failed, she switched to bribery.
Ha! Did she really think that would make him yield?
And yet, as a few wisps of incense smoke drifted into his senses, he froze.
A soul-body was a peculiar existence, belonging to the realm of "I think, therefore I am"—if a vengeful ghost had to describe it, perhaps something like an electromagnetic or quantum phantom. Without a physical vessel, many perceptual abilities were simply absent.
Since becoming a ghost, this was the first time he'd ever "smelled" anything—truly and clearly, both fragrant and foul.
For a moment, he was intrigued.
While he stood stunned, the girl had already picked up her bowl again and sat down at the table.
And he, inexplicably, drifted down from the ceiling and sat silently across from her.
Incense smoke curled upward, ashes mixed with noodles, like the casual greetings common in life, and she offered a simple self-introduction.
"By the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Lian Xia."
He paused, rummaging through the depths of his memory.
"...Gu Xichen."
In his daze, he'd nearly materialized fully, but she'd already lowered her head and was slurping her noodles.
Right now, the girl was bare-faced, with twin patches of flush on her cheeks, and lips grown red from rushing to drink hot soup. She gave him an inexplicable sense of raw vitality, an enjoyment of watching the simple pleasures of mortal life.
So, should he make an exception and let her stay...
After all, she seemed quite polite.
After finishing her noodles, Lian Xia cleaned the table briefly, then climbed onto a stool and hung the gray dreamcatcher from the central lamp in the living room...
Gu Xichen, now back in position, stared at the plastic beads swinging against his chest, his previously decent mood steadily cracking.
He decided—he'd kick her out in a couple of days!
...
...
Before bed, Lian Xia wound the string of fairy lights around the bedposts.
With the lights off, the aesthetic climbed another notch.
Look at this tiny room, awash in twinkling star-like INS-style lights, accessorized with a décor of shed feathers and a cheap plastic dreamcatcher, plus a vengeful ghost landlord swinging stiffly overhead...
This dark and terrifying rental house somehow became wildly comical!
Resentful that his home had been remodeled, Gu Xichen munched on incense and ground his teeth, but managed to hold back from lashing out.
Before sleeping, not knowing that the man was hanging right nearby, Lian Xia leaned against the wall and did a few decidedly unattractive stretching exercises.
After that, she gazed at the broken bed board, looking forlorn.
"Sigh, if only I had a mattress to sleep on."
Some people roll in their parents' laps, demanding the latest laptop or tablet, while others weather the elements, grateful just for an old mattress to call their own.
Happiness is never about constant possession, but about the steep climb from nothing to something.
In this moment, Gu Xichen suddenly felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he shouldn't have tormented that woman—at least then she wouldn't have ended up...
The instant the thought crossed his mind, he rebuked himself.
Pah!
I'm a vengeful ghost!
Vengeful ghosts don't have consciences!
On her side, the girl had already wrapped herself in her bedsheet and carefully lain down at the very edge of the bed, whimpering softly.
"Ahhhh, how am I supposed to sleep on this!"
She mumbled a few complaints, then rolled over to face the wall. Within five seconds, soft snores filled the room.
In the darkness, the dreamcatcher moved without any breeze.
Someone whispered softly: "Good night."
The next morning.
Before leaving for work, Lian Xia polished the incense burner until it gleamed.
"Great One, I'll light your incense first every day."
She pinched a few incense sticks from the bag, counted them, and then reluctantly put a few back.
"But the blanket-sealing rule is absolute—you need to follow it too. Remember, our world is a materialist one, where matter comes first. You must constantly reflect on the nature of your existence, trust in science, and reject superstition. Got it?"
"Here are some books for you. Read them when you're free."
With that, she slung her bag and hurried out.
Three hefty volumes were stacked neatly beside the incense burner, from top to bottom:
*Marxist Materialist Philosophy*
*Historical Materialism*
*Dialectics of Nature*
Gu Xichen: "..."
The moment she left, he drifted over the incense burner and inhaled deeply, instantly feeling his little soul ascend through the crown of his head!
The scent was both fragrant and foul—like durian, like snail noodle soup, like stinky tofu. It reeked going in, but was addictive to partake in.
Wave after wave crashed into his very essence, making him feel as though his ghostly soul was scattering and yet craving more!
Damn. Addictive.
How could it be this good?
It got to the point where he spent the entire day lounging on the windowsill, waiting for her to come home from work.
Munching on offerings, he simultaneously reflected upon his own form of existence—what exactly was he, anyway?
...
...
Around four in the afternoon, the lock finally turned.
It looked like the delivery guy had been by—her doorway was piled high with wooden slats, making it hard to even get inside.
With these slats, though, she'd have a bed to sleep on instead of curling up at the edge like last night.
Before diving into her big construction project, she didn't forget her promise—she lit incense for her invisible sublandlord first.
Exactly three sticks, no more, no less.
The incense caught, and he felt a little dazed.
Sure enough, there was a difference between a wild ghost and a household ghost. The incense smoke seemed to know the way, chasing straight into his nostrils, and every pore on his body felt as if it'd been ironed—warm and comfortable.
The drafts created by living people, which to a lone ghost like him were akin to blades slicing the skin, an agony of a thousand cuts—thanks to the incense offerings, even her movements and the air currents they stirred no longer bothered him.
The question was: with such a considerate roommate who provided three meals of incense a day, should he really kick her out?
Pah, what roommate—she should be called Sugar Momma!
If Lian Xia knew her status had been upgraded from "roommate tolerated by a vengeful ghost" to "the ghost's Sugar Momma," she'd probably go back to the old man and try to haggle another 200 off the rent.
Meanwhile, while Gu Xichen was getting his incense fix, Lian Xia had already hauled all the wood slats inside and borrowed a hammer and nails from across the hall, rolling up her sleeves for serious work.
But after just a few strikes, she noticed something wrong with her fingers.
She'd been temporarily reassigned to a pure manual red date eight-treasure rice production line, spending the whole afternoon cutting red dates with a pair of dull scissors.
Now, the joints of her fingers had blistered.
She hissed through her teeth, bit down hard, and popped each blister one by one. Not a single tear fell.
Gu Xichen watched from the side, wincing on her behalf.
This work session lasted until the next morning.
She'd spent an entire night hammering together a sturdy bed board, plus a properly sized bed canopy frame, several storage shelves, two balcony planters, and three or four wall decorations.
After using up every last piece, she dug into her backpack and carefully hung a few photographs on the decorative backdrop.
The girl gazed at the photos for a long time before staring blankly at the light outside the window.
"Ah, it's already light out?"
Fortunately it was the weekend, so she could lie down on her new bed board and get some proper rest.
Where she couldn't see, Gu Xichen slipped over quietly.
His approach brought a wave of cold. Lian Xia suddenly shivered. "Whoa, why is it so cold in here?"
In truth, this room had always been very cold—after all, it housed a vengeful ghost (Gu Xichen?)—but she'd been too busy and heated up to notice.
Now, she finally remembered the terrifying rumors.
"Blanket-sealing, blanket-sealing..." She shivered as she burrowed under the covers, still muttering.
But unlike other people who prayed to gods and buddhas, she chanted Marxist-Leninist-Maoist theory, scientific materialism, and dialectical materialism. Before long, her head drooped and she fell fast asleep, as usual.
At this moment, Gu Xichen was examining those photographs.
They were very old but kept perfectly flat, the backgrounds nothing but drainage ditches crisscrossed with furrows, sorghum fields, and cornfields.
In one, she leaned against an older man with similar features, both smiling broadly.
It was evident she came from a small family, their income mainly from farming and livestock. A typical girl from the countryside, drifting alone in Shanghai.
On the back, there was a line written in wobbly, childish strokes, the ink already faded:
"Someday I'll become a petrel, soaring over the dark, turbulent sea."