6:03 a.m.
Lin Wanqing stood at the entrance of the apartment building's first floor. She hadn't left.
She was still holding the photograph.
There was only one sentence on the back:
Don't trust Officer Zhou next time.
Dawn was approaching.
The rain had stopped, but the streets were still wet. The dim yellow streetlights shone over the puddles like a layer of glass that hadn't been wiped dry.
Wanqing stared at the photograph for a long time.
She didn't want to believe it.
Not because she trusted Officer Zhou.
But because she suddenly realized she no longer knew who she could trust.
Her mother had told her not to trust the police.
The strange woman had told her not to trust the photograph.
And that mysterious person had now told her not to trust Officer Zhou.
If everyone was telling her not to trust someone else...
Then who was telling the truth?
She slipped the photograph into her bag.
Her phone suddenly rang.
This time, it was a normal incoming call.
A name appeared on the screen.
Officer Zhou.
Wanqing stared at the three characters.
She didn't answer.
The phone rang for a long time.
At last, the call ended automatically.
Less than ten seconds later, it rang again.
She still didn't answer.
The third time, her phone rang again.
Wanqing finally picked up.
"Hello?"
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
"Where are you?"
Officer Zhou's voice sounded exhausted.
Wanqing didn't answer.
"Are you still at that apartment building?"
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw you on the security footage."
Wanqing's heart sank.
"What security footage?"
"The first floor."
She turned to look at the lobby.
"You've been watching me this whole time?"
"It wasn't me."
"Then who was it?"
The other end of the line fell silent for several seconds.
"Wanqing, leave there right now."
"Why?"
"Because that building doesn't have a thirteenth floor."
Wanqing froze.
"What?"
"The elevator you took last night couldn't possibly have gone to the thirteenth floor."
She said nothing.
"I checked the elevator records."
Officer Zhou's voice grew lower and lower.
"From 3:58 to 4:12 last night, the elevator stayed on the first floor the entire time."
Wanqing tightened her grip on the phone.
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"I really did go to the basement."
"I know."
"I even saw Room 301."
"I know that too."
Wanqing went completely rigid.
"How do you know?"
Officer Zhou didn't answer.
"Officer Zhou."
Her voice began to turn cold.
"Did you know about Room 301 all along?"
A long silence.
Then the woman on the phone finally heard him say:
"Yes."
Wanqing closed her eyes.
Of course.
He knew.
She was about to press him for more when Officer Zhou suddenly said, "Don't go home."
"Why?"
"Because someone has already gone there."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I only know one thing."
His voice suddenly became extremely serious.
"There's a pair of white shoes beside your window."
Wanqing froze.
"What did you say?"
"I just received a photograph."
"It shows the window of your home."
"Someone is standing beside it."
"But I can't see that person's face."
"All I can see is a pair of white shoes."
The call ended.
Wanqing stood where she was.
Her heartbeat grew faster with every beat.
She immediately opened the map on her phone.
Her home was only fifteen minutes away by car.
She didn't know why.
The first thought that came to her wasn't fear.
It was—
Her mother.
If someone really had gone to her home...
What were they looking for?
Or...
Were they waiting for her to come back?
6:31 a.m.
Wanqing returned to the area near her home.
She didn't go straight inside.
She parked on the corner and sat in the car, watching the apartment building where she lived.
First floor.
Second floor.
Third floor.
Fourth floor.
Her room was on the fifth floor.
The curtains were drawn.
There was nothing unusual.
She took out her phone, opened the camera, and zoomed in on her window.
No white shoes.
No one, either.
She let out a small breath of relief.
Then the curtain on the fifth floor moved.
Wanqing sat up straight.
She stared at the window.
The curtain moved again.
It wasn't the wind.
There wasn't any wind today.
Someone was inside.
She picked up her phone and called Officer Zhou.
He didn't answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
She got out of the car.
She entered the apartment building.
The elevator rose all the way up.
Fifth floor.
Ding.
The doors opened.
There was no one in the hallway.
Wanqing took out her key and stood at the door.
She didn't open it right away.
Because beneath the crack in the door...
was a small patch of white.
She crouched down and pulled it out with her fingers.
It was a piece of paper.
Written on it were the words:
You finally came back.
Her heart sank.
She inserted the key into the lock.
The door wasn't locked.
Wanqing slowly pushed it open.
The room was quiet.
The curtains were still drawn.
The living room looked exactly as it had when she left.
The table.
The couch.
The television.
Nothing had been disturbed.
She stood in the entryway, suddenly overcome by a strange feeling.
Someone had been inside.
But they hadn't taken anything.
They hadn't even left a trace.
Then...
Why had they come?
Wanqing walked into the room.
She checked the living room first.
Nothing.
The kitchen.
Nothing.
The bathroom.
Nothing there, either.
Finally, she walked to the bedroom door.
It was half open.
She pushed it open slowly.
A paper box sat on the bed.
It was white.
It looked exactly like the cake box she'd seen at the entrance of the apartment building.
She stood beside the bed.
She didn't touch it.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Another photograph.
It showed her bedroom.
The angle it had been taken from...
was exactly where she was standing now.
Wanqing looked up at the ceiling.
There was no camera.
She checked beneath the bed.
Nothing.
The closet.
Nothing.
The window.
She walked over.
The window was closed.
But on the floor beside it...
was a footprint.
It was white.
Not mud.
It looked like the mark left by some kind of powder.
There was only one shoeprint.
The toe pointed toward the room.
Which meant—
Someone had stood outside the window.
Then entered the room.
Wanqing walked to the window and looked down.
The fifth floor.
The people on the street below looked tiny.
If someone had come in from here...
it would have been nearly impossible.
Unless...
She suddenly stopped.
A very narrow metal framework ran along the outside of the window, extending all the way to the neighboring building.
Wanqing's heartbeat quickened.
She suddenly remembered what Officer Zhou had said.
The photograph only showed a pair of white shoes.
She looked down.
There was a fresh scratch on the window frame.
As if a shoe had stepped on it.
She didn't move any closer.
Instead, she took out her phone and snapped a picture.
The moment the picture was taken, a message appeared on her phone.
Don't stand by the window.
Wanqing spun around.
There was no one behind her.
Her heart raced as if it were about to burst out of her chest.
"Who is it?"
No one answered.
She stared around the room, then looked at the paper box on the bed.
This time, she opened it.
There was no cake inside.
Only a pair of white shoes.
Women's shoes.
They were spotless.
There was no brand logo and no shoebox.
Only a small note stuck to the soles.
Wanqing picked it up.
Written on it were the words:
Your mother wore these.
The strength drained from her hands.
The shoes fell to the floor.
She stared at them.
A scene suddenly flashed through her mind.
She was sixteen.
It was nighttime.
She sat in her room.
Footsteps came from outside the door.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Someone walked down the hallway.
She crouched and looked through the crack in the door.
A pair of white shoes.
Her mother stood outside the door, holding a cake.
But the next second...
someone else walked past behind her.
That person was wearing white shoes too.
Two people.
Identical pairs.
Wanqing jolted back to reality.
She began to gasp for breath.
"No..."
She had always believed that her mother was the only one there that night.
But now she finally remembered.
That night,
there had been two pairs of white shoes passing outside her door.
7:09 a.m.
Officer Zhou finally arrived.
He stood in the doorway. The moment he saw the shoes on the floor, he fell silent.
Wanqing looked at him.
"You recognize these shoes."
It wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
Officer Zhou didn't deny it.
"Whose are they?"
He looked at the shoes.
After a long time, he said, "Your mother's."
Wanqing's heart sank.
"Are you sure?"
"I've seen them before."
"Where?"
"Ten years ago."
"Then where is she?"
Officer Zhou didn't answer.
Wanqing took a step closer.
"How much have you been hiding from me?"
"A lot."
She froze.
She hadn't expected him to admit it so directly.
"Why?"
Officer Zhou looked at her.
"Because I promised your mother."
"Promised her what?"
"That I wouldn't tell you the truth."
Wanqing gave a small laugh, but there was no warmth in it.
"All of you love deciding what I'm allowed to know."
Officer Zhou didn't argue.
"She said that if you ever started investigating this..."
"it would mean she'd already failed."
Wanqing frowned.
"Failed?"
"She wanted you to forget forever."
"Forget what?"
Officer Zhou looked at her.
"That night ten years ago."
The room fell silent.
Wanqing slowly sat down.
"I've remembered part of it."
"What?"
"There were two pairs of white shoes."
Officer Zhou's expression changed instantly.
"Are you sure?"
"I saw my mother."
"And someone else."
"I couldn't see his face."
Officer Zhou lowered his head.
"That's a problem."
"Why?"
"Because in the photograph we found back then..."
He paused.
"There was only one pair of white shoes."
Wanqing froze.
"What does that mean?"
"The person's body was in the photograph."
"But his face had been cropped out."
"Only the shoes remained."
Wanqing looked at the shoes on the floor.
"So you always knew there was a second person?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who he is?"
Officer Zhou fell silent.
"I know."
Wanqing stood up.
"Tell me."
"I can't yet."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you, you might start trusting the wrong person."
Wanqing stared at him coldly.
"Then at least tell me his name."
Officer Zhou looked at her.
At last, he said three words.
"Gu Yan."
Wanqing stopped breathing.
Him again.
The seventh person.
The one whose face had been erased from the photograph.
The one who had appeared in the recording her mother left behind.
She had thought Gu Yan was simply some stranger from ten years ago.
But now...
he seemed to have been part of her life all along.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
"Is he dead?"
"I don't know."
"Have you seen him?"
Officer Zhou didn't answer.
Wanqing stared at him.
"You have."
He finally nodded.
"Three months ago."
"Where?"
"At the hospital."
Wanqing froze.
"What was he doing there?"
"Visiting someone."
"Who?"
Officer Zhou looked up.
"You."
The air seemed to freeze.
Wanqing's face slowly went pale.
"Me?"
"Three months ago, you were hospitalized because you were overworked."
"You didn't know it at the time."
"But someone stood outside your hospital room for an entire night."
Wanqing tried to remember.
Three months ago.
She had been hospitalized once, that was true.
Only because she hadn't been feeling well.
She had always thought it was an ordinary hospital stay.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because that person never went inside."
"He just stood outside the door."
Wanqing looked at him.
"You saw his face?"
Officer Zhou was silent for several seconds.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he was wearing a mask."
"Then how do you know it was Gu Yan?"
Officer Zhou said nothing.
Wanqing suddenly understood.
"You aren't sure at all."
He looked at her.
"No."
"You're just guessing."
"Yes."
Wanqing slowly smiled.
Now she finally understood what those words really meant.
Don't trust Officer Zhou.
Not because he was definitely lying.
But because—
he didn't know the truth either.
He had only been guessing all along.
12:00 p.m.
Wanqing sat alone in her room.
The pair of white shoes sat on the table.
She stared at them for a long time.
Then she suddenly noticed the soles.
There was a thin red mark.
Not blood.
It looked like red paint.
She took out her phone and photographed it.
She zoomed in.
Beside the mark...
was a string of tiny numbers.
0714.
July 14.
That day, ten years ago.
She took out the letter her mother had left behind and cross-referenced every date.
July 14, 2016.
The first photograph.
The first recording.
The first forgotten person.
And these white shoes.
Everything pointed to the same day.
Then she suddenly thought of something.
The cake she'd eaten that night.
The birthday cake her mother had prepared for her.
The candles on the cake.
Seventeen of them.
One of them...
represented the seventh person.
Gu Yan.
But if Gu Yan had really been there...
why had her mother wanted her to forget?
Wanqing reopened her phone.
She pulled up the picture she'd just taken of the shoes.
There was something tiny in the background.
She zoomed in.
Beside the window was a table.
A picture frame sat on it.
Inside the frame...
was a family photograph from when she was sixteen.
Wanqing stared at the picture.
Then she suddenly noticed a problem.
There had originally been only three people in the photograph.
Her.
Her father.
Her mother.
But in the enlarged image now...
there was a reflection of a fourth person in the glass window behind her mother.
A man.
He was wearing white shoes.
Wanqing's hands began to tremble.
She enlarged the image as far as it would go.
The man's face was obscured by the reflection on the window.
But around his wrist...
was a silver bracelet.
She froze.
It didn't belong to the man.
It belonged to her mother.
Which meant—
that person had taken her mother's bracelet.
And that pointed to something she had never dared to consider.
Gu Yan might not have been her mother's enemy.
He might have been the last person her mother trusted.
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Wanqing looked up.
"Who is it?"
No one answered.
She walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
But on the floor...
there was an envelope.
It was white.
There was no name on it.
She opened the door and picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Written on it were the words:
If you want to know who your mother saw last...
Go to 17 South Street at midnight tonight.
There was one more line beneath it.
Remember to bring the shoes.
Wanqing stared at the paper.
For the first time, she didn't hesitate.
She put the white shoes in a bag, then picked up her coat.
She knew she was walking, step by step, into a story someone else had arranged for her.
But she could no longer stop.
Because that night ten years ago—the night she had forgotten...
was finally returning to her, piece by piece.
What she didn't know was that, at that very moment,
less than two hundred meters from her home, a man was standing beneath a tree on a street corner.
He wore a black coat.
On his feet...
was a pair of white shoes.
The man looked down at his phone.
On the screen was a photograph of Wanqing.
He hadn't deleted it.
He simply stared at it for a long time.
Finally, he dialed a number.
"She has the shoes."
There was no sound from the other end of the line.
The man continued, "She's going to 17 South Street tonight."
After several seconds of silence, the other person finally answered:
"Then let her go."
The man lifted his head and looked toward the window of Wanqing's home.
"What if she really remembers?"
The person on the other end laughed.
"Then let her know."
"The person who truly died ten years ago—"
"was never her mother."
The call ended.
The man stood on the street washed clean by the rain.
Slowly, he lifted one foot.
Beneath the white sole,
the numbers were perfectly clear.
0714.
And right beside his foot,
an old photograph blown there by the wind lay on the ground.
Written on the back was:
The Fifth Way to Die: Dying in Someone Else's Memories.