Section Four The Tenant Under the Bed
Jason Huang did not move.
He didn't even dare to breathe.
The pair of feet beneath the bed protruded silently from beyond the bedsheet.
The birthmark on the right ankle was shaped like a crescent moon scorched by fire.
He had had it since birth.
Almost no one knew about it besides his family and a few close friends.
But now.
Another identical pair of feet was less than ten feet away from him.
“So.”
The voice beneath the bed spoke again.
“You're outside.”
The voice was exactly the same as Jason Huang's.
But its tone was strange.
There was a subtle pause between every word, as though someone were learning to use a tongue for the first time.
Jason's back was still pressed against the door.
The thing outside, imitating the old woman, had not left either.
It no longer asked for his name.
It only occasionally dragged its fingernails lightly across the door.
Crrk.
Crrk.
Crrk.
There was one thing inside the door and another outside it.
And he was trapped between them.
Two more rules had appeared on the notice on the table.
Rule Six told him to leave the apartment.
Rule Seven told him to make sure there wasn't a second pair of feet beneath the bed.
The problem was, he could no longer do either one.
The thing outside the main entrance was still there.
And there really was a pair of feet beneath the bed.
The notice didn't say what to do when the rules had already been violated.
Perhaps that notice had never been meant to save anyone.
It merely recorded things.
Recorded what each tenant had done wrong before they died.
Jason's gaze swept across the room.
The window.
The fourth floor.
Jumping might not kill him, but he would definitely be injured.
And the window had old-fashioned metal bars installed outside it.
He had noticed them while tidying the room that afternoon. There was a small emergency exit in the outer side of the bars, but it had a rusted lock hanging from it.
There was no exit in the bathroom.
The closet was too narrow.
The only things he could use for self-defense were the utility knife and the metal desk lamp on the table.
He couldn't keep standing there forever.
The thing outside the door was waiting.
The thing beneath the bed was waiting too.
They both seemed to need him to make some kind of response first.
Acknowledge his name.
Look down and check.
Answer the voice.
Or…
Let them determine which one was the real Jason Huang.
The sound of fabric rubbing against the wooden floor suddenly came from beneath the bed.
Rustle, rustle.
The pair of feet began to move.
The toes slowly edged outward.
As though the person beneath the bed were turning around.
Jason's heartbeat nearly stopped.
The bedsheet bulged slightly.
A hand reached out from beneath the bed.
The palm faced upward, all five fingers spread wide.
A black digital watch was strapped around the wrist.
Jason instinctively looked at his own left hand.
The same model of watch.
The same scratch left by years of use.
Even the missing chip in the lower-right corner of the screen was identical.
The person beneath the bed felt around on the floor.
It touched the bed leg first.
Then it felt its way to the bottle of water that had rolled beside it.
It gripped the bottle.
And paused for several seconds.
“This isn't mine.”
Jason's pupils contracted sharply.
Rule One.
On the day you move in, make sure there are no personal belongings in the room that don't belong to you.
That bottle of water had originally been in the refrigerator.
Jason had taken it out once, then put it back because of the old woman's warning.
Now the thing beneath the bed was saying—
This isn't mine.
So was it imitating Jason Huang, or did it really believe it was Jason Huang?
The bottle was slowly pushed out.
It rolled all the way to the center of the room.
The bottle spun.
The transparent plastic reflected the light overhead.
Jason immediately closed his eyes.
Rule Three said that if he saw a mirrored reflection anywhere outside the bathroom, he had to close his eyes and leave the spot immediately.
Did the bottle's reflection count as a mirrored surface?
He didn't know.
But he wasn't willing to take the risk.
The instant he closed his eyes.
Every sound in the room stopped.
There was no more scraping beneath the bed.
The thing outside no longer scratched at the door.
It was so quiet that it felt as though he had suddenly lost his hearing.
Jason slowly moved left along the door.
He needed to leave the spot.
One step.
Two steps.
When his third step landed, the sole of his shoe came down on a sheet of paper.
It should have been the notice.
He did not open his eyes. He only crouched and felt around.
His fingertips touched cold laminating film.
He picked up the notice.
The back of the card no longer seemed smooth.
There were raised and indented marks.
As though an additional line of embossed text had appeared.
Jason slowly ran his thumb across it.
He couldn't make it out.
He needed light.
He needed to see.
But he didn't know whether he could open his eyes now.
There was still no sound in the room.
He tried opening his eyes a sliver.
The first thing he saw was the floor.
The bottle of water had stopped rolling.
There was no obvious reflection.
Then he saw the desk.
The chair.
The wall.
Only at the end did he look toward the bed.
The pair of feet was gone.
The bedsheet hung naturally.
The darkness beneath the bed had returned.
Jason did not relax.
Because the blanket on the bed was bulging.
As though someone were lying beneath it.
The pillow was slightly indented.
The person beneath the blanket lay on their side with their back to him, a small lock of short black hair exposed.
This was Jason Huang's bed.
And his blanket.
The person beneath it was wearing the gray T-shirt he had worn while moving in that day.
The person on the bed turned over.
Slowly facing Jason.
The face was exactly the same as his.
The eyebrows.
The eyes.
The bridge of the nose.
The tiny, nearly invisible mole at the corner of the mouth.
There was no distortion.
No rot.
Nothing inhuman about it.
It was a complete Jason Huang.
The “Jason” on the bed opened his eyes.
They were filled with terror.
“Who are you?”
It shrank toward the wall, clutching the blanket.
“Why are you in my room?”
Jason couldn't say a word.
The other person's fear did not look feigned.
Its breathing was ragged.
Sweat had appeared on its forehead.
Even the hand clutching the blanket was trembling.
Just like an ordinary person waking up in the middle of the night to find a stranger standing in their room.
“Get out.”
The Jason on the bed lowered his voice.
“Or I'm calling the police.”
The real Jason Huang still did not answer.
He had no way to prove he was real.
The other one had no way to prove it was fake.
Even more terrifying was the question of who the room belonged to now.
Rule One required the tenant to make sure there were no belongings in the room that didn't belong to them.
But if another “self” appeared in the room, which one was the thing that didn't belong there?
The person on the bed reached toward the nightstand.
Jason's phone had originally been there.
But after he had tossed it onto the bed, it had fallen beside it.
Now it was sitting safely on the nightstand.
The person on the bed picked up the phone.
The screen immediately unlocked with facial recognition.
Jason felt cold all over.
The other one opened the contacts and dialed the emergency number.
“Hello?”
The call actually connected.
“Someone broke into my home.”
It stared at Jason.
“The address is No. 44, Section 4, Heping Road, fourth floor of Evergreen Apartments, Room 404.”
The person on the other end seemed to ask something.
The one on the bed answered:
“My name is Jason Huang.”
The instant those four words left its mouth.
The lights in the room suddenly flickered.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
A burst of excited scratching came from outside the door.
But the Jason on the bed did not notice at all.
It continued speaking into the phone:
“Yes, I'm the tenant.”
“That person looks exactly like me.”
“I don't know how he got in.”
The notice in the real Jason Huang's hand began to heat up.
It grew so hot it nearly burned his palm.
He looked down.
New words seeped out at the very bottom of the laminated card.
Eight: When another person voluntarily acknowledges your name, do not correct them.
There was another line beneath it.
The name will belong only to the person who responds last.
Jason understood.
The thing on the bed had said his name.
And it had acknowledged that it was the tenant.
By some kind of rule, it was taking over Jason Huang's identity.
If the real Jason Huang argued now—
“I am Jason Huang.”
Then the name would return to him.
Perhaps that was the answer the thing outside had been waiting for.
Jason had to remain silent.
Even if the other one was stealing his life.
The person on the bed ended the call.
“The police will be here any minute.”
There was a little more confidence in its voice.
“You'd better leave now.”
Jason looked at the face identical to his own.
An idea slowly took shape.
He raised the notice in his hand and turned Rule Eight toward the other person.
The person on the bed saw the words at a glance.
Its expression froze.
It stared at the notice.
Then looked back at Jason.
“What is that?”
Jason remained silent.
“Where did you get it?”
The other person threw off the blanket and got out of bed.
It stepped barefoot onto the wooden floor.
There really was an identical birthmark on its right ankle.
One step.
Another step.
It walked toward Jason.
“Give it to me.”
Jason backed away.
The other person kept advancing.
“That belongs to me.”
Its tone began to change.
It was no longer afraid.
Instead, it carried a kind of self-righteous fury.
“This room is mine.”
“The phone is mine.”
“The name is mine too.”
Jason's back hit the wall.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
The other person was only one step away.
At close range, Jason finally noticed one subtle difference.
The other person breathed.
It blinked.
Its skin even had pores.
Everything about it was indistinguishable from a real person.
But in its pupils, Jason Huang was not reflected.
There was only an empty room.
As if the Jason Huang standing in front of it did not exist at all.
It reached for the notice.
Jason immediately hid the card behind his back.
The two of them made physical contact for the first time.
When the other's hand touched his wrist, a bone-chilling cold instantly burrowed into his skin.
At the same time.
A flood of memories that did not belong to him surged into his mind.
A dim hospital room.
A row of patients strapped to iron-framed beds.
“Ren'an Sanatorium, Ward Four” was written on the wall.
Someone kept repeating names beside his ear.
“Chen Liwei.”
“Li Peishan.”
“Zhou Mingde.”
“Jason Huang.”
Each time a name was spoken.
The person on the hospital bed would open their eyes.
Then answer in the same voice:
“I am.”
Jason saw a doctor in a white coat standing behind glass.
The doctor's face was hidden by the light.
He held a document in his hand.
A black number was printed on the cover.
13.
The image lasted only an instant.
Jason violently shook the other person off.
They both stumbled backward.
The “Jason Huang” from the bed also looked bewildered.
It lowered its head and stared at its own hand.
As if the same memory had just appeared in its mind.
“What did you see?”
It asked.
Jason did not answer.
“Ren'an…”
The other person murmured the two words.
The laminated notice on the table suddenly split apart.
Snap!
A crack appeared down the center of the plastic film.
As if some rule had been triggered.
The scratching outside the room stopped abruptly.
The next moment.
A heavy impact thundered through the hallway.
Boom!
The door buckled inward.
The Jason on the bed's expression changed.
“What is that outside?”
Boom!
A second blow.
The doorframe shook violently.
Jason looked at the notice.
All the words on it were rapidly fading.
The first rule.
The second rule.
The third rule.
They vanished one after another.
As if someone were withdrawing the protection they had provided.
The person on the bed rushed toward the window.
It pulled open the curtains.
Outside the window was not Heping Road.
There were no streetlights.
No cars.
And no rain.
Beyond the glass was a narrow hospital corridor.
The green walls were badly peeling.
The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling flickered nonstop.
A row of iron doors lined both sides of the corridor.
The same designation was written on every door.
404.
The other Jason Huang stood frozen before the window.
“Where is this?”
Another impact came from outside the door.
Boom!
The locked bolt had already bent.
Only the final rule remained on the notice.
If all the rules disappear at once, decide who the tenant is before the door opens.
Both Jason Huangs saw the sentence.
The room fell into a brief, deathly silence.
They looked at each other.
The question was no longer which one was real and which one was fake.
The rules demanded—
There could only be one tenant.
The other person had to be left here.
The Jason on the bed spoke first.
“You're the one who brought it here.”
It pointed at the door.
“You're the thing from outside.”
The real Jason Huang tightened his grip on the notice.
The other person continued:
“I woke up in the bed.”
“The phone recognizes me.”
“Everything in the room belongs to me.”
“Even the police have already received my call.”
It stared at Jason.
“What can you prove?”
Jason couldn't answer.
Because if he said his name, he might lose.
But silence couldn't prove his identity either.
Boom!
A crack split down the center of the door.
A deathly pale hand reached through the gap.
Its five fingers slowly spread open.
Feeling around along the inside of the door.
The other Jason Huang began to retreat.
“We can leave together.”
It said.
“There’s a way out beyond the window.”
Jason looked at the hospital corridor outside.
That was not an exit.
It was somewhere deeper.
Perhaps it was the space Room 404 truly connected to.
The other Jason Huang moved closer to the window.
“You stay here.”
“I'll find someone to help.”
It reached out, preparing to push open the metal bars.
Just then.
Jason noticed that the window glass reflected both of them.
Rule Three.
There is only one mirror in the room, and it is in the bathroom.
If you see a mirrored reflection anywhere else, close your eyes immediately and leave the spot.
He immediately closed his eyes.
But the other Jason Huang continued staring at the glass.
“There’s someone outside.”
It whispered.
Jason did not open his eyes.
“It’s a doctor in a white coat.”
“He’s waving at me.”
The glass made a faint tapping sound.
Knock.
Knock.
Someone outside the window said:
“Jason Huang.”
The other Jason Huang instinctively answered:
“I am.”
Every sound in the room abruptly vanished.
The hand outside the door stopped feeling around.
The hospital lights beyond the glass stopped flickering as well.
Then.
Jason heard an almost inaudible sigh.
As if someone had finally completed the confirmation.
“We found the tenant.”
The voice came from outside the window.
The other Jason Huang let out a short, startled cry.
Jason kept his eyes tightly shut.
He heard only the sound of glass shattering.
A great many fragments fell to the floor.
Then came a violent struggle.
“Let go of me!”
“I am Jason Huang!”
“Help me!”
The voices gradually receded.
As if someone were dragging him down a hallway with no end.
A few seconds later.
Everything returned to silence.
Jason slowly opened his eyes.
He was the only one left in the room.
The window was completely intact.
Outside was still the rainy street.
There was no crack in the door.
The bolt wasn't bent either.
It was as if none of it had ever happened.
The phone on the table lit up.
The screen showed 9:14 p.m.
Only one minute had passed.
Jason lowered his head and looked at the notice in his hand.
All the rules had disappeared.
The card had become a completely blank sheet of plastic.
Until he flipped it over.
A new line of black text had appeared there.
Move-in confirmation complete.
Beneath it was his name.
Jason Huang.
After the name was a date.
April 4, 2028.
Jason froze.
Today was clearly April 1.
He picked up his phone to check.
The date on the screen did indeed read April 1.
But the notice said April 4.
Before he could figure it out.
Hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.
Not an imitation.
Not a slow approach.
Several people were charging upstairs together.
“Police!”
“Can the person inside hear us?”
Jason stood frozen in place.
The other him really had called the police.
A knock came from outside the door.
“Mr. Jason Huang?”
“We received your report that someone broke into your room.”
“Please respond immediately.”
Jason opened his mouth.
But no sound came out.
The notice was gone.
He didn't know whether he could answer now.
The police outside called out again:
“Mr. Huang?”
Then a deeper male voice cut in.
“Don't call his name.”
The hallway fell silent for a moment.
The man continued:
“Everyone, move back.”
“Don't stand directly in front of the door.”
His voice was calm and precise, carrying the unmistakable force of an order.
Jason moved closer to the door.
Through the door, he heard someone ask:
“Captain Lin, the caller is inside. Why can't we call his name?”
The man did not answer immediately.
After several seconds.
He said:
“Because the person who called to report the break-in.”
“Walked out of this apartment building three minutes ago.”
All the blood in Jason's body instantly turned to ice.
The man outside continued:
“The security footage is crystal clear.”
“He looks exactly like Jason Huang.”
“He's sitting in the patrol car right now.”
Inside the room.
Jason slowly lowered his head.
His face was reflected on the blank plastic surface of the notice.
But the corners of the reflection's mouth.
Were smiling.