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Song Buxian knew all too well how spoiled his younger brother, Song Bunan, could be. He felt at ease leaving his partner, Xin Yi, who had never been one to indulge in such antics, by Song Bunan's side. He thought that if these two were to sit together, they might create some wonderful chemistry. After all, he had endured Song Bunan's occasional whiny behavior for many years; it was time for someone else to bear the brunt of it.
However, upon seeing Xin Yi display a rare tenderness and joy in response to Song Bunan's antics, he couldn't help but feel a bit smug. He decided that he would go to the hospital soon to buy a couple of doses of heart medicine to cope with this situation. Either he had misread the script, or the two of them had gotten their roles mixed up.
After cleaning and bandaging Song Bunan's wounds, he looked up to find it was already past two in the morning. Thankfully, working late had become a habit for both of them; even pulling an all-nighter wouldn’t hinder their tasks. But Song Bunan, who was still slumped on the sofa, clearly couldn’t hold on any longer. He mumbled incoherently in response to questions, his eyes barely open. Xin Yi was equally exhausted; his bandaging technique was both skillful and gentle. If it weren't for Song Bunan's notorious behavior that Song Buxian knew all too well, one might think he was treating a treasured possession with such care.
After tucking the lazy boy on the sofa under a blanket, they skillfully divided the rooms and decided it was time for bed. Just before turning off the lights and entering the bedroom, Song Buxian couldn't help but ask, “Are you interested in my brother?”
The answer he received kept him awake all night, staring at the ceiling. His partner of over ten years replied with utmost seriousness, “Yes.”
After two nights filled with both fear and surprise, Song Bunan found himself feeling more grown-up and no longer afraid of such things. After all, what was a ghost? It wasn’t going to eat him! So when he woke up abruptly to his phone blaring with loud singing, he merely felt annoyed rather than scared.
The caller was Xiao Mei. On the other end of the line came her accented greetings; after exchanging pleasantries and arranging their next meeting, she hung up. It took him a moment to realize what time it was when he glanced at his phone screen displaying eleven o'clock.
He lay sprawled on the sofa, the aroma of food wafting through the air. Looking towards the kitchen, he spotted an unfamiliar figure bustling about. Not knowing where his glasses had gone, he lay there like a caterpillar for a while before finally wiping his drool and sitting up to call for his brother.
Song Buxian, working in his study, was infuriated by the pig-like wailing coming from his younger brother. He rushed over without saying a word and twisted Song Bunan's ear until he quieted down before scolding him: “Are you an idiot? Why are you screaming like a pig? It’s late at night! Look at what time it is! If I leave you alone at home, will you cause trouble?”
Song Bunan tried to save his ear from being yanked off but found no valid rebuttal against these baseless accusations. Instead, he whimpered and grabbed his brother's wrist: “I’m sorry! Can you let go? My ear is going to fall off! Besides, this was an accident; I’ve been fine alone at home before!”
Reluctantly releasing him, Song Buxian shoved a cup of water into his arms: “Drink this and wash your face. Sleeping until noon is disgraceful.” Not daring to add fuel to the fire, Song Bunan nodded obediently but refrained from asking where his glasses were.
The mint-flavored toothpaste helped clear his mind completely as memories from last night flooded back. The most puzzling part was that old man—how could a ghost open his front door and come in to touch his wounds? What were those dark gray things? Who was ringing bells in his dreams? A multitude of questions piled up into a great mystery. Discussing these matters at home would only lead to accusations of overthinking; apart from newly acquainted Xiao Mei, there seemed to be no one else he could talk to.
Having lived over twenty years without encountering anything supernatural suddenly felt exhilarating yet anxiety-inducing for Song Bunan. After all, everything he knew about such matters came from storybooks and forums; before experiencing it firsthand, he had merely held an attitude of belief while watching from the sidelines. Now that it was real, he felt utterly unprepared. Should he buy a book on related topics? Lost in thought as he hummed a tune, he decided that since there seemed to be no effective solution at hand, perhaps believing that everything would work out in due time would suffice.
Xiao Mei never expected that someone so formidable lived in the building where Song Bunan resided. Upon arriving at the community entrance, she noticed that the entire unit building she needed to enter was enveloped in a faint white mist. At around noon, only sporadic lights shone through various windows; after counting floors where Song Bunan lived, she noticed that the orange glow from his apartment was entirely different from others’ incandescent lights. Zhang Long pulled out a baton from the car and handed it to her while signaling that he would stay behind as she went to check on Song Bunan.
The elevator got stuck on the seventeenth floor; glancing at it briefly made Xiao Mei rush into the stairwell instead. She sprinted up three flights at a time until she looked up and saw a sign indicating she had reached the fifth floor. The hallway carried an indistinct scent reminiscent of burnt paper mixed with something uniquely fragrant—an increasingly intense aroma that made her feel inexplicably anxious as she ascended further.
Upon reaching the fifteenth floor door, she discovered that something blocked the fire exit door from opening. Fortunately, there were two glass panels on the door; peering through them revealed a white ghost standing outside Song Bunan's apartment—motionless yet knocking loudly on the door.
Fearing that Song Bunan might mistake her for someone else and open up for her instead of keeping safe inside, she quickly dialed her phone and shouted not to open the door just as the ghost stepped inside without hesitation. Almost simultaneously, there came a click from the fire exit lock—the previously closed door swung open as if guiding her onward.
Without time for contemplation about how this door had opened for her, she dashed into Song Bunan's home only to see that ghost examining the back of someone who had already fainted. Unable to assess what was happening closely enough, she pulled out her baton intending to disperse the ghost; however, this spirit seemed protected—despite being struck by her talisman-imbued baton without any effect—it simply passed through her into the living room.
Turning back around revealed an elderly person hunched over with a cane standing in the living room—his back turned so she couldn’t see his face clearly. Xiao Mei noticed that as soon as this ghost stood beside him, before she could take a step closer herself—the old man swiftly began knocking things around with his cane at lightning speed alongside the ghost as they rushed toward the exit.
“Someone’s gone upstairs! Retreat!” Zhang Long’s voice crackled through her earpiece; Xiao Mei could only ascertain that while Song Bunan was unconscious without life-threatening injuries—he would be alright for now. Returning once more to find an elevator that had previously refused to move now awaited her on ground level—the man and ghost had vanished without leaving any trace behind—she could only head back up through the stairwell.
Song Bunan had mentioned earlier that someone upstairs might have passed away while holding funeral rites—perhaps this spirit was being manipulated by that person.
However, as she ascended further past sixteen floors—she discovered every fire exit door locked tightly with heavy chains—allowing only narrow gaps through which she could barely push open each one as she tried every locked door on each floor without success until returning from atop only to find herself enveloped by thick smoke on eighteen floors.
The acrid scent made her head spin; before her eyes blurred into focus—a funeral hall appeared featuring an old man whose face bore an uncanny resemblance to that elderly figure seen earlier in Song Bunan’s apartment.
Seated before an altar on meditation cushions sat an elderly woman beside whom rested a cane adorned with peculiar decorations atop her hairpin—was this perhaps that grandmother whom Song Bunan mentioned? As dizziness intensified making standing upright increasingly difficult along with rising nausea threatening her consciousness—Xiao Mei prepared herself for bloodletting when suddenly ringing bells echoed nearby.
The crisp and orderly sound helped him calm down; the dizziness quickly faded, and the thick smoke dispersed. However, the ringing was distant, not coming from within the building. Realizing that someone had come to help him, Xiao Mei didn’t linger. As he descended the stairs, he paused at the Fifteenth Floor, intending to check the situation inside, but found the door once again unyielding. Looking through the glass, he saw a person who bore a slight resemblance to Song Bunan standing outside, tearing at a piece of paper.
Avoiding eye contact, he continued down the stairs. Zhang Long stood at the entrance of the building, shaking his head. "Only two men rushed in one after another; no one has come out since."
After tucking his baton into his pocket, Xiao Mei looked back at the building. The white mist had dissipated, leaving only the light from Song Bunan's home still shining. He said to Zhang Long, "There’s someone formidable inside that building. I’m not sure what they want to do, but their target is definitely Song Bunan. I almost fell victim to it in the hallway as well. But for tonight, we’re safe; let’s retreat."
Sitting in the car, Xiao Mei pondered where the bell sound that had awakened him had come from when his phone vibrated. He opened it to find an unknown message:
"Beware of the Eighteenth Floor."
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