Chapter Three The Call at 3:44 A.M.
Section One Don’t Look Back
The scream from Room 401 lasted less than a second.
Then—
It was brutally cut off, as if by an invisible hand.
The entire floor fell silent.
The electronic clock on the wall was frozen at 03:44.
The red digits did not blink.
The seconds no longer advanced.
Ethan Lin was the first to charge toward Room 401.
His throat was still injured from the blow, leaving him unable to speak normally. He could only raise a hand, signaling the others to spread out and take position.
Two officers moved to either side of the doorframe.
Another raised the breaching tool.
Claire Su stood in the middle of the hallway, but her eyes were not on the door to Room 401.
She was staring at the floor.
The fourth floor of Evergreen Apartments had originally been laid with dark gray tiles.
At that moment, a thin layer of water was slowly seeping from the gaps between the tiles in front of Room 401.
Clear.
Odorless.
It didn't look like a burst pipe.
The water spread along the cracks, deliberately avoiding everyone's feet. In the end, it formed a narrow path down the center of the hallway.
It extended all the way to the stairs.
As if guiding them out.
Jason Huang saw it too.
“Is it... telling us to go downstairs?”
Claire didn't answer.
She crouched down.
Without touching the puddle directly, she angled her phone's light across the floor.
The water's surface reflected the hallway.
Room 401.
Room 402.
And the door that had already lost its number plate.
But in the reflection—
There weren't a few people standing in the hallway.
There were thirteen children dressed in patient uniforms.
Their backs were turned to everyone.
They stood in a neat line.
The child at the front was walking along the watery path toward the stairs.
Claire immediately shut off the light.
The reflection vanished.
“Don't look at the floor,” she said.
“And don't step in the water.”
The officer tightened his grip on the breaching tool.
“What about the person inside 401?”
“First, confirm whether the call has ended.”
One of the officers pulled out his phone and dialed the registered number for Room 401.
The hallway remained quiet for two seconds.
Then a phone began ringing inside the room.
Ring—
Ring—
It wasn't a cellphone ringtone.
It was the mechanical ring of an old-fashioned landline.
Sharp and monotonous.
Each time it rang, the door to Room 401 trembled faintly.
The officer lowered his eyes to the screen.
“It went through.”
“But no one's answering.”
Claire asked, “Was that call just now made to this number?”
“Not sure.”
“Tenant information.”
The officer quickly checked.
“The registered tenant in 401 is Zheng Jiawen, thirty-eight years old, a nurse, living alone.”
Jason looked toward the door.
“That was a woman's voice just now.”
“She asked how the other person knew her name.”
The officer kept the call connected.
The ringing inside continued.
After the seventh ring—
Someone answered.
Click.
All the ringing stopped.
The officer's phone showed that the call was connected.
But he didn't raise it to his ear.
Following Ethan's signal, he turned on speakerphone instead.
A faint electrical hiss came from the speaker.
Bzz.
Bzz-bzz.
Then—
A woman began to breathe.
Rapidly.
As if her mouth were covered and she could only suck in air desperately through her nose.
“Zheng Jiawen?” the officer asked instinctively.
Ethan suddenly grabbed his wrist.
But the name was already out.
The woman's breathing on the phone stopped immediately.
One second later, she answered in an extremely soft voice:
“I'm here.”
Claire's expression changed drastically.
“Hang up!”
The officer immediately pressed End Call.
But the phone screen didn't respond.
The call timer continued counting.
00:13.
00:14.
00:15.
The woman in the speaker spoke again:
“You called me.”
“You're in the phone now too.”
The officer's hand began to tremble.
“What does that mean?”
Ethan snatched the phone away.
He slammed the entire device against the wall.
Bang!
The screen shattered.
The phone fell to the floor.
But the call wasn't disconnected.
The broken speaker continued to speak.
“You heard me.”
“I heard you too.”
“So now—”
The woman's voice suddenly became that of the officer himself.
“Don't look back.”
The officer's pupils contracted violently.
Because those words hadn't come from the phone on the floor.
They had sounded from behind him.
At extremely close range.
As if someone had pressed their lips to his ear.
His shoulders instantly locked up.
Everyone saw it.
A woman's hand.
It emerged from the wall behind him.
Five fingers, pale and bloodless.
Her fingernails were tinged dark purple.
The hand did not touch him.
It merely hovered behind his right shoulder.
The index finger slowly curled.
As if waiting for him to turn around.
The officer's entire body shook.
“Captain Lin...”
Ethan couldn't answer.
He raised his palm, signaling everyone to remain silent.
Then he slowly walked to a position directly in front of the officer.
The two men faced each other.
Ethan mouthed the words:
Look at me.
The officer nodded.
Cold sweat slid down his temple.
The hand in the wall moved forward.
Its fingertips were less than a centimeter from the back of his neck.
Ethan drew his service weapon.
He aimed at the hand.
Claire suddenly pressed down on the barrel.
“Don't attack it.”
Ethan looked at her.
“It hasn't touched anyone yet.”
She lowered her voice.
“‘Don't look back’ might not be a warning.”
“It might be a condition.”
“Only if he turns around will whatever is on the other end of the phone gain a location.”
The woman's palm in the wall slowly opened.
The next second—
A tiny mouth appeared on every finger.
All five mouths spoke in the voices of the officer's family members.
“Bo-Hsun.”
“Look at Mom.”
“Bro, it's me.”
“Son.”
“Turn around.”
Zhang Bo-Hsun's eyes instantly reddened.
He knew those voices were fake.
But his body still reacted on instinct.
The muscles in his neck tightened faintly.
His head turned less than a degree to the right.
The hand on the wall immediately moved closer.
Claire slapped him across the left side of the face.
Smack!
The sudden impact sent Zhang Bo-Hsun stumbling hard to the left.
He did not turn around.
The hand grabbed at empty air.
All five little mouths shrieked at once.
The arm violently withdrew into the wall.
The concrete surface became smooth again.
Zhang Bo-Hsun collapsed onto the floor.
He gasped for breath.
“Than—”
He had barely begun to speak when Claire covered his mouth.
“Don't say anyone's name right now.”
She looked at the other officers.
“And don't address one another.”
“The phone has already memorized our voices.”
“It may use any name we've spoken to confirm its target.”
The shattered phone on the floor spoke again.
This time, it was an unfamiliar man.
“Zheng Jiawen.”
Then the woman answered:
“I'm here.”
The man spoke again:
“Zheng Jiawen.”
“I'm here.”
The same exchange began to loop.
Each time it repeated, more water flowed from beneath the door to Room 401.
The color of the water gradually changed as well.
Clear.
Pale red.
Dark red.
Finally, it looked like diluted blood.
Jason stared at the gap beneath the door.
“Is she still alive?”
Claire didn't answer.
She looked at the peephole.
The inside of it was pitch-black.
It wasn't as if the hallway light were being blocked.
It was more like the room no longer existed on the other side of the lens.
Ethan walked up to the door.
He pressed his ear against it.
There was no crying inside.
No movement.
Only the phone conversation repeating endlessly.
“Zheng Jiawen.”
“I'm here.”
“Zheng Jiawen.”
“I'm here.”
With every answer, the woman's voice sounded farther away than before.
Until the thirteenth time.
The words “I'm here” sounded as if they had come from the end of a long tunnel.
The fourteenth time—
The man still called out:
“Zheng Jiawen.”
This time, there was no answer.
Every sound stopped.
The red digits on the wall clock flickered once.
03:44.
03:45.
The seconds began advancing again.
The bloody water beneath the door stopped spreading as well.
Ethan signaled for them to breach the door.
The officer swung the tool.
The first impact.
Bang!
The lock didn't budge.
The second.
Bang!
A crack appeared in the doorframe.
The third.
Bang!
The door flew inward.
An unusually cold current of air surged out of the room.
The living room lights were off.
The curtains were tightly drawn.
The furniture was neatly arranged.
There were no signs of a struggle.
No blood either.
The red stains outside the door all vanished once it opened.
As if they had never existed.
Ethan entered first.
Claire followed close behind.
Jason was told to stay in the hallway.
But he didn't back away very far.
The room's furnishings were ordinary.
A gray sofa.
A wooden coffee table.
A TV stand.
Several travel photos hung on the wall.
In the photos, Zheng Jiawen wore a hospital uniform and smiled naturally.
In the corner of the living room sat a cream-colored vintage telephone.
Its cord ran into the wall.
The receiver wasn't properly hung up.
It dangled over the edge of the table, swaying faintly.
Claire stopped.
“Where did this phone come from?”
An officer checked the registration records.
“The apartment doesn't have a landline.”
“At least, not according to the phone company's records.”
Ethan put on his gloves.
Without touching the receiver directly, he inspected the base of the phone.
A faded label was affixed to it.
Property of Ren'an Sanatorium.
Designation:
13-344.
Claire's eyes darkened when she saw the designation.
“Three forty-four in the morning.”
“That might not be a time,” she said.
“It might be an equipment designation.”
Ethan looked up at her.
Claire continued analyzing.
“Room 404 may be the same.”
“We've always treated 404 as a room number.”
“But it could originally have been a ward number, a laboratory number, or a specimen designation.”
“The numbers in the incident may have been mistaken by later people for an address and a time.”
“If this phone's designation is 344...”
“Then what we call 3:44 A.M. might simply be the form in which it's easiest to identify.”
Ethan pointed to the outlet on the wall.
The telephone cord wasn't plugged into anything.
It went straight into the concrete wall.
There were no drill marks around the joint.
It looked as if the entire cord had grown inside the wall from the beginning.
An officer asked, “Should we unplug it?”
Claire shook her head.
“Find the tenant first.”
Everyone split up to search.
The kitchen was empty.
There was nothing unusual in the bathroom.
The bedroom door was closed tight.
Ethan stood beside it.
He knocked twice.
There was no response.
He gripped the handle.
Locked.
An officer brought over the breaching tool.
After the lock broke, the bedroom door slowly swung inward.
A bedside lamp was on inside.
Zheng Jiawen sat on the edge of the bed.
Her back was to the doorway.
She was still wearing her pajamas.
Her bare feet rested on the floor.
Her hands lay naturally on her knees.
There were no visible injuries from behind.
“Ms. Zheng?” the officer began.
Claire immediately turned and glared at him.
The name had been spoken again.
The woman's shoulders moved faintly.
“I'm here,” she answered.
Her voice sounded perfectly normal.
It was no longer distant.
And there was no fear in it.
Ethan moved to the side.
At last, he saw her face.
Zheng Jiawen's eyes were open.
Her expression was calm.
There was even a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.
But her eyes had no focus.
Her pupils were unnaturally dilated.
Two bloodstained wads of tissue were stuffed into her ears.
Claire crouched in front of her.
She didn't call her by name. She only asked:
“Do you know where you are?”
Zheng Jiawen looked at her.
“Home.”
“Who called you just now?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they say?”
“They told me not to look back.”
“Did you turn around?”
Zheng Jiawen's smile deepened.
“No.”
“Then why did you plug your ears?”
She lowered her head and looked at her knees.
“Because after the call ended...”
“He kept talking.”
“From where?”
“Behind me.”
Everyone in the bedroom looked behind her at the same time.
The bed was pressed against the wall.
The wall was spotless.
There was no one there.
But Zheng Jiawen continued:
“He kept asking me...”
“Do you remember thirteen years ago?”
Claire asked, “What happened thirteen years ago?”
The smile disappeared from Zheng Jiawen's lips.
“I killed someone.”
The room fell silent.
The officers immediately began recording.
“Who?”
“A patient.”
“Where?”
“A hospital.”
“What hospital?”
Zheng Jiawen didn't answer.
Her gaze slowly shifted toward the living room.
As if she were looking at the vintage telephone.
Claire changed her approach.
“Where did you used to work?”
“Ren'an.”
Everyone's expression changed at once.
Zheng Jiawen was thirty-eight.
Thirteen years ago, she had been twenty-five.
If she had already been a nurse then, it was entirely possible that she had worked at a medical institution.
But according to official records, Ren'an Sanatorium had ceased to exist after a fire in 1998.
Thirteen years ago was 2015.
“When did Ren'an Sanatorium stop operating?” Claire asked.
Zheng Jiawen looked at her in confusion.
“It never stopped.”
“It's still there.”
“Address?”
“The next stop.”
“What next stop?”
Zheng Jiawen raised her right hand.
She pointed toward the bedroom window.
Outside should have been the street view along Heping Road.
But beneath the gap in the curtains, white light swept past at regular intervals.
It was accompanied by a roar like a train pulling into a station.
Rumble—
The floor trembled faintly.
A subway announcement sounded inside the room.
“The train is approaching the station.”
“Please stand behind the yellow warning line.”
The officers instinctively looked at the floor.
A yellow warning line had appeared across the center of the wooden floor.
Beyond the line—
The floor gradually changed into gray platform stone.
The walls peeled away, revealing dark green tiles.
The bedroom was slowly turning into a subway platform.
Zheng Jiawen was still sitting on the edge of the bed.
But beneath her feet was no longer a floor.
It was the edge of a platform.
The bed behind her gradually became a pitch-black set of tracks.
Two headlights lit up in the distant tunnel.
“Everyone, get back!” an officer shouted.
Everyone quickly stepped across the yellow warning line.
Only Zheng Jiawen didn't move.
She remained seated at the platform's edge, her feet dangling above the tracks.
Claire grabbed her arm.
“Stand up.”
Zheng Jiawen shook her head.
“I'm waiting for a call.”
“The call is over.”
“No.”
She looked at Claire.
“The first call was just a notification.”
“The next call...”
“That one will tell me which station to go to.”
The train's roar drew closer and closer.
A powerful wind swept through the room.
The curtains, bedsheets, and papers were pulled toward the tunnel.
Ethan grabbed Zheng Jiawen's other hand.
The two of them pulled at the same time.
But her body seemed fused to the platform.
No matter how hard they pulled, she didn't move an inch.
Ethan looked down.
Beneath Zheng Jiawen's feet—
Countless black telephone cords were wrapped around her ankles.
The cords extended deep into the tracks.
Cards hung from them, one after another.
Each had a name written on it.
Some were blurred.
Others were still clear.
Chen Liwei.
Li Peishan.
Zhou Mingde.
Zhang Bo-Hsun.
Jason Huang.
And the final card—
Ethan Lin.
The train was about to enter the station.
Its headlights illuminated the tunnel.
It wasn't a modern subway train.
It was an old, dark-green train.
People in patient uniforms stood behind every window.
Each held a phone.
The receivers were pressed to their ears.
Their mouths moved nonstop.
They were all saying the same thing at once.
“Don't look back.”
The train was less than fifty meters from the platform.
Claire pulled out a folding knife.
She slashed at the telephone cords wrapped around Zheng Jiawen's ankles.
The first cut—
The cord didn't break.
Instead, bright red blood flowed from the material.
The second cut—
The cords began to scream.
Hundreds of voices rose from deep within the tracks.
“She answered the call!”
“She already agreed!”
“She can't leave the station!”
Ethan took the knife.
He aimed at the thickest bundle of cords.
But Claire grabbed his hand.
“Don't cut them all.”
“Her name is on the cords too.”
“If you sever them, she might lose her identity like the others.”
The train was only thirty meters away.
Jason stood behind the yellow warning line, staring at the cards.
Suddenly, he realized something.
“No.”
He shouted, “That's not right!”
Everyone looked at him.
“The cords run from the tracks to her feet.”
“But all the name cards are facing the train.”
“What does that mean?”
“It isn't the train pulling her.”
Jason pointed at the cords.
“She is pulling the train in.”
Claire understood instantly.
“The phone isn't taking the victim away.”
“It uses the person who answers to connect another space to reality.”
Zheng Jiawen wasn't a passenger.
She was a connection point.
As long as she remained seated there, the train could truly enter Evergreen Apartments.
Ethan immediately changed tactics.
He stopped trying to pull Zheng Jiawen away and turned to sprint toward the living room.
The vintage telephone still hung beside the table.
The receiver swayed faintly.
He grabbed the phone base and yanked.
The cord wouldn't come out of the wall at all.
Claire followed him into the living room.
“It has two ends,” she said.
“One end is the person who answers.”
“The other end has to be the person who dialed.”
“Unplugging this won't help.”
“We have to make the other side hang up first.”
A ringing sound suddenly came from the receiver.
It wasn't the phone ringing.
Someone on the other end was waiting for an answer.
Ethan picked up the receiver.
Claire immediately pressed down on his hand.
“If you answer, you'll become the new connection point.”
Ethan didn't put it down.
He pointed at his injured throat.
He couldn't respond normally.
Claire understood what he meant.
But she still shook her head.
“It may not need language.”
“Answering itself might be confirmation.”
An officer shouted from the bedroom:
“The train's entering the station!”
The wind grew stronger and stronger.
The entire apartment building trembled.
The phone continued ringing.
Ethan stared at the receiver.
Then—
He handed it to Claire.
She frowned.
Ethan quickly typed on his phone:
Don't answer.
Dial back.
Claire understood.
The phone had a rotary dial.
There was no screen, and no incoming number was visible.
But the bottom of the unit was marked with the equipment designation 13-344.
If 344 wasn't a time but an extension number—
Then perhaps the other end had a fixed designation too.
She looked at the back of the phone.
A line of tiny text, almost completely worn away, emerged:
Call back: 13.
Claire picked up the receiver.
She didn't hold it to her ear.
With her other hand, she turned the dial.
1.
The dial snapped back.
Click-click-click-click.
3.
Click-click-click-click-click-click.
The dialing was complete.
The ringing in the receiver stopped.
In its place came the sound of a distant phone ringing.
Ring—
Ring—
Inside the tunnel in the bedroom, the approaching train suddenly slowed.
Every patient in the cars turned their heads at once.
All the phones in their hands began to ring.
No one answered.
The ringing echoed through every car.
The train was only ten meters from the platform.
Yet it seemed to be blocked by some force.
The wheels scraped against the tracks, producing a piercing screech.
Screeech—
Claire held the receiver.
She waited.
After the thirteenth ring, someone finally answered on the other end.
Click.
There was no voice.
Only heavy breathing.
Claire set the receiver on the table.
She turned on the recording device.
Ethan pressed the speaker button.
A man's voice came through the phone.
“This is the Ren'an Sanatorium switchboard.”
“Who would you like to speak to?”
Claire didn't give a name.
She asked, “Who placed this call?”
The switchboard operator was silent for several seconds.
“You have the wrong number.”
“This line doesn't connect to the outside.”
“A call just came through to this line.”
“Impossible.”
“Equipment designation 13-344.”
The breathing on the other end stopped.
At the exact same moment, the train came to a complete halt.
Its front was less than two meters from Zheng Jiawen.
There was no one in the driver's cabin.
Only a phone hung suspended in midair.
The man spoke again.
This time, his voice was very low.
“Who told you that designation?”
“The label on the equipment.”
“That phone should have burned up already.”
“What year?”
The other end didn't answer.
Claire continued:
“1998?”
The man abruptly hung up.
Beep—
The train began moving backward.
It wasn't reversing.
The entire scene was rewinding like a videotape.
The wheels spun in reverse.
The wind flowed back.
The tunnel lights went out one by one.
The telephone cords wrapped around Zheng Jiawen's ankles rapidly retracted.
They all withdrew into the tracks.
The platform gradually changed back into the wooden bedroom floor.
The yellow warning line vanished.
The bed reappeared.
Zheng Jiawen lost her support and fell from the edge of the bed.
The officers immediately caught her.
The electronic clock on the wall returned to 9:36 P.M.
The entire anomaly—
In real time, it had lasted only two minutes.
A wisp of black smoke rose from the receiver of the vintage telephone.
The body cracked open.
Inside, there was no circuit board.
No bell.
Only an extremely thin strip of magnetic tape.
Thirteen human teeth were wrapped around it.
Each tooth—
Had a number carved into it.
01 through 13.
Claire stared at the remains of the phone.
“This isn't a communications device.”
Ethan typed on his phone:
What is it?
“A recorder,” she answered.
“It doesn't transmit voices.”
“It records who responds to the call.”
Jason walked out of the bedroom.
“Just like the Room 404 Rules.”
“Every time someone breaks a rule, another one gets added.”
“Every time someone answers the phone...”
“This thing remembers one more name.”
Claire nodded.
“And the switchboard manages them.”
“The person who answered just now knew the equipment had burned down.”
“That means they once worked at Ren'an Sanatorium.”
“Or...”
She looked at the strip of tape.
“They still work there.”
Zheng Jiawen was helped into the living room.
She looked dazed but had regained basic awareness.
Claire crouched in front of her.
“You said you killed a patient thirteen years ago.”
Zheng Jiawen avoided her eyes.
“I didn't.”
“You said it yourself just now.”
“That wasn't me.”
“The phone made you say it?”
She shook her head.
“I heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“A recording.”
Zheng Jiawen clutched her head with both hands.
“Thirteen years ago...”
“I was working the night shift at a hospital.”
“At 3:44 A.M....”
“The nurses' station phone suddenly rang.”
“I answered it.”
“It was my own voice.”
“She told me...”
“The patient in Ward Thirteen would kill three people in five minutes.”
“If I wanted to stop him...”
“I had to make him stop breathing first.”
An officer asked, “Did you do it?”
Zheng Jiawen began to tremble.
“I didn't believe it.”
“But five minutes later, the patient really did break free of his restraints.”
“He grabbed an IV stand.”
“My coworker was the first person he struck.”
“I was terrified.”
“I pressed a pillow over him.”
“I only wanted to stop him from struggling.”
“But when I let go...”
She lowered her head and stared at her hands.
“He was already dead.”
Claire asked, “What was the hospital called?”
“Ren'an.”
“Address?”
Zheng Jiawen gave them a location.
The officer immediately entered it into the system.
The result showed that it was now a subway station.
New City Line—Anhe Station.
And the station after Anhe Station had never been opened to the public because of construction problems.
The route map showed only a gray area.
There was no station name.
Jason looked at Ethan.
“The next stop.”
That was exactly what Zheng Jiawen had said.
She had said Ren'an Sanatorium was at the next stop.
Claire continued questioning her:
“Did Ren'an Hospital really exist thirteen years ago?”
Zheng Jiawen nodded.
“But after I resigned...”
“All the records disappeared.”
“My coworkers said they had never worked there.”
“The hospital's address became a construction site.”
“Even the dead patient had no traceable identity.”
“What was his name?”
Zheng Jiawen's lips trembled.
“I don't know.”
“His medical records only had a designation.”
“Which one?”
She raised her head.
Fear had returned to her eyes.
“Thirteen.”
The living room fell silent.
The thirteenth patient in Room 404.
The Thirteen patient who had been killed in the phone incident.
The two might not be the same person.
But they clearly followed the same designation system.
Ethan's phone vibrated.
The hospital was calling.
The nameless man who had been taken away earlier—the one who had briefly possessed Jason's face—had become abnormal again.
The doctor sent over a surveillance screenshot.
The hospital bed was empty.
The restraints were intact.
The doors and windows hadn't been opened.
Yet the man was gone.
On the ward wall, a line had been written in black liquid:
See you on the last train at 3:44.
Beneath it was a crude subway route map.
The starting point was Anhe Station.
The destination had no name.
Only a black number.
13.
After looking at the photo, Claire said, “He didn't escape.”
“He was taken.”
Jason asked, “By whom?”
Ethan looked up.
He stared at the burned-out phone.
A hoarse sound forced its way from his throat.
“The switchboard.”
Everyone fell silent at once.
It was the first complete word Ethan had managed to force out since his injury.
And the instant the word fell, the magnetic tape inside the phone's remains began turning on its own.
The thirteen teeth knocked against one another.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Like someone laughing in the dark.
Then—
The disconnected phone carried the switchboard operator's voice.
“Line confirmed.”
“Next investigator...”
“Please proceed at 3:44 A.M...”
“To the nonexistent station.”
When the voice faded, a subway train without lights passed silently outside the bedroom window, four stories above the ground.
The same person stood behind every window.
The nameless man who had disappeared from the hospital.
They all turned their heads at the same time.
Through the glass, they looked toward Ethan Lin.
Then—
Everyone on the train raised a hand together.
They pointed behind themselves.
The last car contained thirteen empty seats.
A ringing phone sat on each seat.
And in front of one of the phones—
There was a nameplate.
Ethan Lin.