Section Three: The Person Outside the Door
Jason Huang stood rooted to the spot.
It felt as if something invisible had slammed into his chest.
The voice sounded too much like her.
It wasn't merely a similar timbre.
The slightly drawn-out endings of her words, the habitual pause whenever she called his name, even the way she deliberately pretended to sound calm when she was clearly worried—all of it was exactly the same as in his memories.
"Zihao."
The woman outside called again.
"It's cold out here."
"Let Mom come in first, okay?"
Jason's fingers slowly tightened.
His mother had been dead for three years.
Lung cancer.
She had spent almost the entire last six months in the hospital.
It had been raining the day she died, too.
That night, he stood at the end of the hospital corridor and watched through the glass as the medical staff pulled a white sheet over her face.
He hadn't cried.
At least, not then.
Three days later, while sorting through his mother's belongings, he found an unsent voice message on his phone.
"Zihao, it's cold out there. Remember to wear an extra layer."
That was all it said.
He cried alone in his empty room for the entire night.
And now.
That voice was right outside his door.
Separated from him by a single wooden panel.
Repeating the tone from his memory, word for word.
"It's cold out here."
Jason's expression wavered for an instant.
His phone vibrated again.
A message from the landlord appeared.
It will use the voice you're most familiar with.
The next line appeared immediately afterward.
Don't think about whose voice it is.
Don't remember.
Every time you remember, it will become more like them.
Jason reached the last sentence, and his breath caught sharply.
The woman outside suddenly began to cough.
At first, it was only two light coughs.
Then they grew more violent, as if her lungs were being torn apart and she couldn't catch her breath.
It was exactly how his mother had sounded when her illness had worsened.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
"Zihao..."
"Mom feels awful..."
Jason's eyes instantly reddened.
He knew it was fake.
He knew there was no way his mother could be outside that door.
But his body still instinctively took one step forward.
Just one.
The coughing outside stopped at once.
As if it were listening.
Jason stopped too.
Separated by the door, both sides fell silent.
A few seconds later, the woman asked softly,
"Did you come over here?"
A chill ran through Jason's entire body.
It could hear him.
No.
It wasn't just hearing him.
It seemed able to sense where he was.
He slowly backed away.
When his first step landed, there was no reaction outside.
The second step.
Still quiet.
The third step.
A faint scraping sound suddenly came from the door.
Scrape...
Scrape...
As if something were pressed against the door, following his movements.
Jason moved left.
The scraping moved left.
He moved right.
The sound slowly slid toward the right as well.
Whatever was outside remained directly in front of him, always separated by the wooden panel.
No matter where he went.
It knew.
Jason didn't dare move again.
The woman outside gave a little laugh.
"Found you."
The next second,
the entire door jolted violently inward.
Bam!
Jason stumbled backward in fright.
Bam!
The second impact was even harder.
Fine dust fell from above the doorframe.
The deadbolt began to shake.
The thing outside was no longer knocking.
It was ramming the door.
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
Every impact was far too powerful to be human.
Jason rushed to the desk and tried to drag it in front of the door.
But the instant he grabbed the corner, the pounding abruptly stopped.
The entire world fell silent again.
He didn't dare let go.
His eyes remained fixed on the door.
One second.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
There wasn't a sound outside.
His phone showed 9:04 p.m.
Rule Five of the landlord's notice—
The landlord will not contact tenants after 9:00 p.m.
Jason lowered his head to look at his phone.
The last message from the landlord had been sent at 9:03 p.m.
It was already 9:04.
He stared at the chat window.
At the top, it said the other person was typing.
Jason's face slowly drained of color.
Rule Five didn't merely mean that the landlord wouldn't initiate contact after 9:00 p.m.
It meant that after 9:00, no message appearing under the landlord's name could be trusted.
"Typing" continued for a long time.
At last, a new message appeared.
It left.
You're safe now.
Jason didn't reply.
A second message appeared right after it.
You can open the door now.
He slowly raised his head.
There was still no sound outside the door.
A third message appeared.
Open the door. I'm right outside.
The hand holding Jason's phone began to sweat.
That wasn't the landlord.
The thing outside hadn't merely learned the landlord's voice.
It could also send messages through the landlord's account.
Or rather,
starting at 9:00, nothing that appeared on this phone was necessarily real.
The phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn't a message.
It was an incoming call.
The screen displayed—
Mom.
Jason stopped breathing.
His mother's number had been disconnected shortly after the funeral.
But he had kept the contact in his phone all this time.
He had never been able to delete it.
The ringtone continued.
It was the phone's ordinary default ringtone.
Yet it frightened him more than any sobbing could have.
He tapped Decline.
The screen went quiet for two seconds.
Then the call came again.
Mom.
He declined it again.
The third time.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The calls came one after another.
There was no interval between them.
At last, Jason powered off the phone.
The screen went dark.
The room sank into gloom.
Only the red glow from the sign outside the window kept flickering on and off.
He finally let out a breath of relief.
However.
A few seconds later,
the phone, already powered off, lit up by itself.
There was no startup animation.
No passcode screen.
Only a completely black background.
A line of white text appeared in the center.
Why didn't you answer Mom's call?
Jason abruptly flung the phone onto the bed.
It landed among the blankets.
The screen faced upward.
New lines of text appeared one after another.
You never used to act like this.
When you were little and scared, you always went looking for Mom.
Have you forgotten?
Jason clenched his teeth.
Don't remember.
The landlord had just said so.
Every time you remember, it will become more like them.
He forced himself to look away.
Not at the phone.
Not at his mother.
But the more the human brain tries to avoid something, the clearer that memory becomes.
In third grade, he had a fever in the middle of the night.
His mother had carried him two blocks to the emergency room.
The first time he got into a fight with a classmate in middle school, his mother had scolded him, then secretly left an ice pack outside his bedroom that night.
After he went away to college, his mother called every week to ask if he had eaten.
Those images surged up beyond his control.
The phone on the bed suddenly began playing a recording.
"Zihao, it's cold out there. Remember to wear an extra layer."
Jason froze.
That was the last voice message his mother had left.
It wasn't similar.
It was the original recording.
Even the faint beeps of the hospital equipment in the background, and the muffled cough at the end, were exactly the same.
The recording finished.
After a two-second pause,
an additional sentence appeared—one that hadn't been there before.
"And..."
His mother's voice grew softer.
"Don't let the person outside the door in."
Jason jerked his head up.
The voice in the phone continued:
"That's not Mom."
Outside the door.
At the same time, his mother's voice sounded.
"The voice in the phone isn't Mom."
Two voices.
Exactly alike.
One came from inside the room.
The other came from outside the door.
"Zihao," the phone said.
"Believe me."
"Zihao," the voice outside said.
"Believe me."
Jason stood between the two voices, his scalp prickling.
This was no longer a simple deception.
It was creating a contradiction.
Making it impossible for him to determine which one was the source of danger.
Maybe both were.
Or maybe the notice itself was a trap.
He suddenly remembered what the old woman had said.
"That wasn't left by the landlord."
If the notice hadn't been left by the landlord, who had put it in the refrigerator?
Why did the rules it listed seem to actually be saving him?
An idea surfaced in his mind.
Maybe there was more than one thing in this room.
One wanted to get in.
Another didn't want it to.
But he couldn't determine whether the side helping him was truly benevolent.
The phone's screen changed again.
All the previous text disappeared.
In its place was the camera view.
The camera seemed to have opened by itself.
The image showed the room.
The angle was very low,
as if it were filming outward from the bed.
Jason stood in the center of the frame, his back to the phone.
There was nothing behind him.
He stared at the screen for two seconds.
Then he suddenly noticed a small, unnatural patch of shadow in the upper-right corner, near the bathroom door.
He didn't turn around.
Holding his breath, he enlarged the image.
The shadow gradually came into focus.
It was a face.
A woman's face.
Long hair hung down.
Her face was deathly pale.
Only half her face showed as she peered out from behind the bathroom door.
She wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking at Jason.
His body instantly went rigid.
Rule Three of the notice.
There is only one mirror in the room, and it is in the bathroom. If you see a reflective surface anywhere else, close your eyes immediately and leave the spot.
The phone's camera was also a kind of mirror.
He was looking through the screen at something he shouldn't have been able to see behind him.
Jason immediately closed his eyes.
At the same time, he took several steps to the side.
Faint footsteps sounded in the room.
Tap.
Bare feet against the wooden floor.
Very close to him.
He didn't dare open his eyes.
He could only navigate by memory.
The desk should be ahead.
The wall was to his right.
To his left was the open space leading to the entryway.
The landlord's notice only said to close his eyes and leave the spot.
It didn't say how far he had to go.
Nor did it say when he could open his eyes.
The footsteps sounded again.
Tap.
This time, behind him.
Then a third step.
Tap.
It had moved to his left.
The thing was walking around him.
Very slowly.
As if observing him.
Jason reached out and touched the cold wall.
He moved along it.
His fingers brushed the light switch.
He pressed it hard.
Nothing happened.
The footsteps suddenly stopped.
A cold breath drew close to the back of his neck.
The woman inhaled softly,
as if smelling him.
Jason clenched his teeth and refused to make a sound.
Just then,
there was another knock from outside the door.
Knock.
Knock.
The thing in the bathroom seemed to be startled.
Jason heard a rush of frantic crawling, darting past him.
Scritch-scritch-scritch-scritch—
The sound retreated all the way to the bathroom.
Then.
The bathroom door slammed shut.
Jason still didn't dare open his eyes.
Someone spoke outside the door.
This time, it wasn't the landlord.
And it wasn't his mother.
It was the old woman from the hallway.
"Young man."
"Are you still in there?"
The old woman from Room 402.
Jason almost answered.
But at the last moment, he stopped himself.
The old woman had warned him during the day: if someone called to him at night, he absolutely must not answer.
Now, someone outside was using her own voice to ask him a question.
This was probably an imitation too.
"Don't make a sound."
The old woman outside seemed to know what he was worried about.
"Just listen to me."
"Are your eyes closed right now?"
Jason didn't react.
"Don't open them."
"That thing is still by the bathroom door."
His heart sank.
The crawling sounds had clearly retreated into the bathroom.
The bathroom door had closed too.
But the old woman said it was still by the door.
"Now slowly make your way to the front door."
"I'll knock."
"Follow the sound."
The old woman tapped the door once with her finger.
Knock.
"Forward."
Jason hesitated for a moment.
Then he took one step toward the sound.
Knock.
"Keep going."
He took another step.
His foot kicked something.
It felt like the bottle of bottled water.
The bottle rolled and struck the corner of the wall.
The sound of fingernails scraping at the bathroom door immediately came from that direction.
Screee—
"Don't stop."
The old woman's tone grew urgent.
"Keep moving."
Knock.
Jason continued toward the front door.
Knock.
Another step.
The knocking outside was the only coordinate in the darkness.
He raised his hand and finally touched the door.
"Have you reached the door?"
the old woman asked.
Jason didn't answer.
"If you have, unlock the deadbolt."
His hand stopped before the lock.
All it would take was a light twist.
The door would open.
But just then,
from the direction of the bathroom behind him,
another old woman's voice said:
"Don't open it."
Jason's hand instantly froze.
The voice came from inside the room.
Very close.
"The one outside isn't me."
the old woman in the bathroom whispered.
The voice outside immediately turned shrill.
"Don't listen to her!"
"She's lying to you!"
"Open the door!"
The voice inside the bathroom replied urgently:
"You can't open it!"
"It's been outside the whole time!"
The two old women began speaking at once.
Their voices had the same timbre.
The same tone.
Even their breathing was identical.
"Open the door!"
"Don't open it!"
"Open the door!"
"Don't open it!"
The voices grew faster and faster.
At last, they overlapped into a single piercing shriek.
Jason covered his ears and leaned against the door, nearly unable to think.
He didn't know which one was real.
He didn't even know if either one was real.
In the middle of the chaos,
a very soft voice came from above his head.
"You got it right."
It wasn't the old woman.
And it wasn't his mother.
It was the voice of an unfamiliar little girl.
Jason's entire body went rigid.
The voice was on the ceiling.
"They're both fake."
His eyes remained tightly shut.
Yet he could feel it.
Something was hanging upside down above him.
Long hair fell down.
The ends lightly brushed his forehead.
The little girl giggled above his head.
"But now."
"You have to guess."
"Which me is the real one?"
The next second.
From outside the door, the bathroom, and the ceiling—
three directions at once—
came Jason's own voice.
"My name is Jason Huang."
"My name is Jason Huang."
"My name is Jason Huang."
Again.
And again.
They repeated his name over and over.
Their speeds gradually synchronized.
Their pitches gradually became identical.
At last,
the three voices completely overlapped.
As if another version of him were whispering directly against his ear inside the room.
"My name is Jason Huang."
Jason bit down on his lip.
Blood seeped into his mouth.
Don't answer.
Don't acknowledge it.
Don't let it know that this name belonged to him.
However.
The voice outside suddenly asked:
"Then who are you?"
Every sound in the room vanished instantly.
Only that question remained.
Then who are you?
Jason's mind went blank.
He couldn't say his name.
But if he said nothing, would it keep going?
The notice had no answer.
The landlord had no answer either.
This was a question that hadn't been written into the rules.
He suddenly understood something.
The rules on the notice weren't complete.
The words only recorded the situations previous tenants had encountered—and survived.
Every new tenant might face new questions.
And the first person to encounter them
had no rules to rely on.
They could only guess for themselves.
Guess wrong,
and perhaps they would become the next rule.
"Then who are you?"
the voice asked again.
This time, it was closer.
As if it were coming from inside his throat.
Jason felt his lips being pulled open by some force.
His tongue pressed uncontrollably against the roof of his mouth.
A name was about to escape.
He abruptly raised his hand
and punched himself in the mouth.
Bam!
His lip split open.
His teeth went numb from the impact.
The control broke instantly.
He collapsed onto the floor.
At the same time,
an enraged scream rang out in the room.
It sounded like nothing human.
It was so shrill it nearly pierced his eardrums.
The fluorescent light overhead suddenly blazed on.
Click!
White light flooded the room.
Jason's eyes remained closed.
But even through his eyelids, he could feel the intense brightness.
There was no sound outside the door.
No sound in the bathroom.
The ceiling had gone quiet too.
A few seconds later,
the phone played the normal startup chime.
Jason didn't open his eyes right away.
He sat on the floor for a long time.
Only after confirming that there was no further abnormality around him did he slowly open one eye a sliver.
The room was empty.
The bathroom door stood open.
There was no one inside.
The front door was still locked from the inside.
The ceiling held nothing but an ordinary fluorescent tube.
Everything seemed to have returned to normal.
If not for the three words scratched into the floor,
Jason Huang,
he almost would have believed the whole thing had been a hallucination.
The phone rebooted.
The time displayed 9:13 p.m.
From the first knock until now,
only nine minutes had passed.
Jason picked up the phone.
The chat history with the landlord was still there.
But every message sent after 9:00 had disappeared.
The call log also had no record of the call imitating the landlord.
There was only the move-in notice the landlord had sent at 6:23 p.m.
After that,
nothing.
He immediately called the landlord.
It rang for a long time.
No one answered.
He called a second time.
Still no answer.
He sent another message.
Please reply as soon as you see this.
The message showed as sent.
Jason had no intention of staying here any longer.
Whether the notice was real or not.
Whatever had happened just now.
All he wanted was to leave.
He grabbed his wallet and keys and hurried toward the front door.
When his hand closed around the deadbolt, he paused.
There was no knocking.
No footsteps.
There was no change in the light or shadows beyond the peephole.
Jason didn't look through it.
He simply unlocked the deadbolt.
Click.
The door opened.
Outside was the familiar fourth-floor hallway.
The motion-sensor light was on.
The walls were mottled and peeling.
The door to Room 402 was shut tight.
Everything was normal.
He stepped out.
The instant his shoe touched the hallway tile,
a click sounded behind him.
The door to Room 404 had closed by itself.
Jason turned around.
The key was still in his hand.
Yet the door was already locked.
He ignored it.
Turning away, he headed for the stairs.
As he passed Room 402, he thought of the old woman.
If she hadn't warned him during the day, he might never have put those things back.
He hesitated.
Then he raised his hand and knocked.
Knock.
Knock.
There was no answer.
"Ma'am?"
The instant he spoke, he realized his mistake.
The old woman had said that if someone called to him at night, he must not answer.
By the same logic, perhaps he shouldn't call out to anyone in the hallway at night either.
He immediately fell silent.
But movement had already begun inside.
The sound of slippers scraping across the floor slowly approached.
Someone behind the door asked:
"Who is it?"
It was the old woman's voice.
Jason didn't answer.
Silence filled the room for several seconds.
"Are you the new tenant in 404?"
Jason remained silent.
The old woman seemed to lean against the door.
She didn't open it.
She only lowered her voice and asked:
"You've seen the notice?"
After hesitating, Jason lightly knocked once.
A confirmation.
A long sigh came from inside.
"Don't leave the fourth floor tonight."
Jason frowned.
The landlord had just told him to leave.
Now the old woman was telling him to stay on the fourth floor.
"You can't use the stairs right now," she said.
"And you can't take the elevator either."
Jason froze.
This building didn't even have an elevator.
The old woman continued:
"Go back to 404."
"Lock the door."
"Wait until dawn."
Jason finally couldn't hold back.
"Why?"
There was sudden silence behind the door.
He regretted speaking the instant the word left his mouth.
The old woman didn't answer his question.
Instead, she asked:
"Did you say your name just now?"
"No."
"Did you acknowledge that the name written outside the door was yours?"
"No."
"Then there's still time."
The sound of the door chain sliding came from inside.
Clack.
The door opened a hairline.
The chain remained fastened.
There was only darkness beyond the gap.
The old woman revealed one eye.
She looked at Jason first.
Then her gaze slowly moved behind him.
That cloudy eye suddenly widened.
"Don't turn around," she whispered.
Jason's back went rigid.
"Go back to 404."
"Walk slowly."
"Don't run."
The old woman stared at something behind him.
Her lips began to pale.
"No matter what you hear, don't turn around."
Jason heard it.
At the stairwell.
Footsteps.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Someone was slowly coming up from the third floor.
The footsteps were the same as they had been at dusk.
Not fast.
Every step planted with perfect steadiness.
The old woman's eyes remained fixed on that direction.
"Go back. Quickly," she said.
Jason took a step backward.
Room 404 was only a few yards away.
The footsteps drew closer.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
It had reached the landing.
The motion-sensor light suddenly went out.
The entire hallway plunged into darkness.
Jason turned and walked quickly toward 404.
Don't run.
The old woman had told him not to run.
He didn't know why.
But after everything that had happened, he didn't dare disobey any warning.
The footsteps stepped onto the fourth floor behind him.
Clack.
Jason tightened his grip on the key.
Three steps to the door.
Clack.
Two steps.
Clack.
One step.
He inserted the key into the lock.
His hand was shaking so badly that he missed on the first try.
The footsteps behind him stopped.
Less than seven feet away.
Jason inserted the key again.
Turned it.
Clack.
The lock opened.
He quickly pushed inside.
Closed the door.
Locked it.
The entire motion was seamless.
Bam!
There was still no movement outside.
Jason leaned against the door, gasping for breath.
A few seconds later,
the old woman's voice came from outside.
"Very good."
Jason raised his head.
The voice was right outside the door.
But Room 402 was at least sixteen feet away.
There was no way the old woman could have reached Room 404 without making a sound.
The voice outside continued:
"Now."
"Just tell me."
"What is your name?"
Jason's face turned deathly pale.
He finally understood.
The thing that had spoken to him through the door of Room 402
hadn't been the old woman
from the very beginning.
He abruptly looked toward the desk.
The Room 404 Rules notice was still in its original place.
But beneath Rule Five, another line of ink had appeared.
The ink slowly seeped through,
as if someone had just written it.
Six. If the occupant of Room 402 tells you to return to your room, leave the apartment immediately.
Jason stared at the new rule.
Then his gaze slowly moved lower.
There was a Rule Seven below it.
Seven. If you have already returned to Room 404, confirm that there isn't a second pair of feet beneath the bed.
Inside the room,
a very faint breath sounded.
Not outside the door.
Under the bed.
Jason stiffly turned his head.
The bedsheet hung down to the floor,
covering the space beneath the bed.
But near the foot of the bed,
a pair of bare feet protruded.
The toes pointed inward.
As if someone
were lying backward beneath the bed.
On the right ankle of those feet
was a dark birthmark.
Jason lowered his gaze to his own right foot.
In the same spot,
he had an identical birthmark.
The person beneath the bed
let out a soft laugh in Jason's own voice.
"So."
"You were outside."