To save money, Shen Kui rented a place in the suburbs about an hour’s commute from her company. It was a small one-bedroom apartment of a little over forty square meters, with a monthly rent of 1,500. The downsides were inconvenient transportation, few nearby facilities, and a high turnover of residents with a mixed crowd.
After her parents passed away, and with no other relatives at home, Shen Kui had been taken in by an orphanage for several years. It wasn’t until middle school, when she began living on campus, that she gradually separated from the orphanage. After graduating from university and starting work, she began living alone. Having struggled on her own for years and suffered a few setbacks, she had gradually figured out some self-protection tricks.
Before leaving home each time, she would stick a short strip of transparent tape over the keyhole. Most people wouldn’t notice it, but if someone tampered with the lock, even if they removed the tape and stuck it back on, it would still leave marks.
So when she returned and saw clear signs that the transparent tape on the lock had been reused, she immediately realized that a thief had very likely entered her home.
She didn’t open the door. Instead, she tore off a small piece of sticky note from her bag, wedged it into the crack of the door, and then turned to head downstairs.
*** ***
Because she lived alone, Shen Kui always made a point of building a good relationship with the property management whenever she moved. The security guards at the entrance were already quite familiar with her. After she explained the situation at the guardroom, a warmhearted older security guard promptly accompanied her upstairs to check the apartment.
After inspecting the place inside and out twice, Shen Kui finally let out a long breath. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Uncle Shen. It looks like I was just overthinking.”
After closing the door, Shen Kui sank to the floor, all her strength gone.
Heaven knew how nervous she had been when she discovered the lock had been tampered with. What she had gone through in this past day and night was more thrilling than the past ten years of her life combined. For a split second just now, she had even absurdly suspected that the original poster from last night had traced her down through the internet.
She rested for a while, steadied her emotions, then patted her cheeks to encourage herself. “Hang in there, Shen Kui.”
She carefully checked the entire apartment again, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. Only then did her taut nerves finally begin to relax.
The moment she relaxed, the accumulated exhaustion swept over her like an avalanche. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The bed before her looked so soft and inviting that she unconsciously fell onto it and quickly drifted into sleep.
Naturally, in her exhaustion, Shen Kui did not notice that at some unknown moment, a tiny red light had lit up inside the smoke detector above her head, like a hidden eye watching in the dark, quietly emitting a cold gleam.
*** ***
She slept until eight in the evening, finally recovering the energy she had drained from staying up late these past few days.
As the fatigue faded, her headache eased considerably. Shen Kui felt refreshed and clear-headed, and her mood was much more positive.
She took the initiative to contact her best friend and told her about receiving the leather jacket. Tian Ke’s reaction was far more intense than hers.
Sweet K: “Call the police! You have to call the police! If you won’t, I will! They’ve already mailed something to you. What’s next, showing up at your door?!”
Kui: “Calm down. I’ve thought it through carefully. So far, the other party hasn’t shown any malicious intent. So is there a possibility, just like some people in the thread speculated, that someone uncovered the truth about what happened back then and is trying to use this method to warn survivors like me?”
“Take a close look at 412L’s reply.” Shen Kui sent over a screenshot and continued typing. “Their response reveals three pieces of information. First, they’re one of the survivors. Second, one of the people in the photo is their family member, most likely also someone who died in that accident. Third, they learned about this thread through a third party.”
Kui: “Setting aside the second point for now, the other two match my situation exactly.”
Kui: “There were seven survivors, and there are also seven people in the photo. So, can I make a bold assumption that the people in the photo correspond one-to-one with the survivors?”
It was quite a while before Tian Ke replied.
Sweet K: “Your speculation is honestly too terrifying…”
Shen Kui gave a bitter smile. “Which part of this whole thing isn’t terrifying? Since it’s already come to this, we might as well be bold. I’m going to contact 412L directly and tell them I’m one of the survivors.”
Sweet K: “How can you… I feel like your attitude has changed so much. Just last night you were frightened out of your wits…”
Shen Kui didn’t know why either. Before going home, fear had clearly been overwhelming her. Yet after one night’s sleep, her thinking had suddenly become much clearer.
“Maybe after getting enough sleep, my mind cleared up, too,” she said at last, unable to come up with any other explanation.
Sweet K: “…Alright then. What are you going to do about the leather jacket?”
Kui: “I know the police officer who handled that accident back then. I’m going to contact him tomorrow. I think he should be able to help me confirm where this jacket came from.”
After finishing the chat with Tian Ke, Shen Kui logged into the forum again.
User 412L’s account hadn’t logged in since posting that reply last night. Shen Kui sent them a private message. Although she had no idea when the other party would see it, taking this step still gave her a sense of relief.
She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Sleep really was important. A stretch of sufficient, restful sleep could solve seventy percent of emotional problems. She remembered reading in a psychology book that people who suffered from long-term insomnia often experienced symptoms of anxiety. Her earlier agitation, aside from fear of the unknown events themselves, had probably also been in large part due to her lack of proper rest.
After all, anyone would grow irritable after half a month of insufficient sleep.
As this thought crossed her mind, Shen Kui suddenly felt something very strange.
She realized something she never should have overlooked.
Over the past half month, she had been jolted awake at three in the morning by unusual noises time and time again. Was that really just a coincidence?
Shen Kui had been both bold and meticulous since childhood. When she was twelve, a donation of one hundred thousand yuan in cash went missing from the orphanage. She was the first to notice something amiss and took the initiative to provide clues, assisting the police in successfully catching the culprit.
She still remembered that during that period, she heard the calls of cuckoos outside the dormitory window every night. She had learned about the habits of this bird from books. Cuckoos are migratory birds, arriving each spring in April and May and leaving in September or October. At the time, however, it was November. City A had already entered winter. How could there still be courting cuckoos calling outside the window?
She reported the matter to the director. Combined with the police investigation, it was ultimately confirmed that the theft had been carried out through collusion between insiders and outsiders, and the criminals had used birdcalls to signal and communicate with each other.
At twelve, Shen Kui had been alert because of birdcalls that were out of season. Now, at twenty-seven, she had been woken up at exactly three in the morning for half a month straight. So, why hadn’t she sensed anything unusual?
Had comfortable days dulled her vigilance?
Shen Kui did not answer her own question. She found a notebook and listed out everything that had happened recently, one by one.
This was her habit. Whenever faced with a complicated problem, breaking it down into smaller parts made it easier to think through.
She wrote down the elements one by one: three a.m., Huaixihe Station, the photo of seven people, the leather jacket, the survivors, and the unknown “classmate”.
She checked off the leather jacket, the survivors, and the unknown “classmate”. For now, at least, these three seemed to have a rough direction for investigation.
The situation at Huaixihe Station could be inquired about when she investigated the leather jacket. She might not get much information, but it was at least a lead. She thought for a moment and drew a circle next to this item.
The photo of the seven people was closely tied to 412L, one of the survivors. If she could get in contact with 412L, she might make some progress, so she drew a circle next to this item as well.
That left only “three a.m”.
Although she wasn’t sure whether this matter was connected to the others, now that she had noticed something unusual, she needed to figure it out. This was actually quite simple. Since she had been consistently awakened in her sleep at this exact time for half a month, Shen Kui decided she wouldn’t sleep tonight. She would stay up and see if anything happened at three a.m.
Two fifty-eight a.m.
With a large cup of coffee down her throat, Shen Kui felt not a trace of sleepiness. She chatted intermittently with the overly anxious Tian Ke while keeping an occasional watch on the window outside.
City A was rugged and hilly, with many tall mountains, and most buildings were constructed along the slopes. It was not uncommon for someone to step out from the tenth floor and still be at ground level, which led outsiders to jokingly call it a “naked-eye 3D city”.
Shen Kui lived in a youth apartment built on a hillside. The building had twelve floors in total. Although she lived on the sixth floor, the side of her bedroom overlooked a stretch of flat ground.
Beneath her eaves, a row of low shrubs had been planted. At night, wild cats often came to play there. Half a month ago, it had been the meow of a wild cat outside her window that startled her awake, starting the vicious cycle of waking every night at three a.m.
Shen Kui gazed out the window and whispered, “Two more minutes.”
“Are you scared, Huahua?” Tian Ke’s voice on the phone softened unconsciously, as if afraid of disturbing something.
“Based on what’s happened before, it’s probably just some random minor incident. Shouldn’t… be anything too scary, right?” Shen Kui said uncertainly.
“If something really happens…” Tian Ke began, then stopped herself.
“If something really happens, you’ll still be there, won’t you?” Shen Kui joked lightly. “You can call the police right away; maybe I could even be rescued.”
Just then, Shen Kui suddenly heard a strange rustling coming from the shrubs below the windowsill.
The sound was faint and drawn out, unlike the noises made by a passing wild cat. It sounded more like…
Shen Kui frowned and thought for a moment, then a sudden flash of insight struck her: it sounded like a crawling animal moving across the grass!
The thought sent goosebumps racing down her spine. For some reason, the snake-shaped tattoo on Uncle Xu’s wrist flashed through her mind.
Before she could think further, there was a sudden, thunderous “bang”!
A dark figure fell straight from above with the force of a lightning strike. The transparent glass window instantly splattered with a sticky mixture of red and white.
At the same time, the alarm she had set in advance rang out sharply, piercing the silence like a sword through the night.
In this quiet, terrifying night, a predator that had been lurking in the darkness finally revealed its ferocious claws and fangs.
Trembling, she glanced at her phone. The hour hand pointed unmistakably to three a.m.
Moonlit: I wonder what the predator is.
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Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152