After the three returned to their dorm, Zheng Pang was still a bit shaken.
That door opening so suddenly was really scary, as if the thing from that campus legend had actually come out.
After taking turns showering, the more Zheng Pang thought about it, the more uneasy he felt.
Sitting on the bed, he muttered to himself,
“Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony…”
Luo Danqing leaned in to listen — to his surprise, this chubby guy was quietly reciting the Core Socialist Values.
Rummaging through the books he brought, Luo Danqing pulled out a copy of Mao Zedong Thought and waved it.
“Wanna stick this under your pillow?”
He meant it as a joke, but Zheng Pang’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed it without hesitation, stuffing it under his pillow.
“Bro, no need to say thanks — breakfast’s on me tomorrow.”
Luo Danqing: ………………
The dorm’s power went off at 11 p.m., and the three chatted for a bit in the dark before going to sleep.
The whole dorm building went dark, with only the emergency lights in the hallway emitting a faint glow.
As time passed, the once noisy dorm gradually quieted down until only silence remained.
The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, its soft silver light gently spilling over the treetops.
In dorm 510, Zheng Pang sat up and climbed out of bed in the dark.
His movements were slow and stiff, like a robot lacking oil — unusually clumsy.
He quietly opened the door and staggered downstairs.
It was deep into the night.
Not just students, even the dorm manager was sound asleep.
The front door of the dormitory was tightly locked.
Zheng Pang wandered around the entrance a few times, reached out and pushed the door — it didn’t budge.
Only the iron chain on the lock gave a faint rattle.
He stood there blankly for a while before awkwardly heading back to the dorm.
The other two were fast asleep.
After a full day of training, they were too exhausted to notice Zheng Pang quietly sneaking downstairs and returning.
Zheng Pang climbed back into bed, sat stiffly for a long moment before finally lying down and closing his eyes.
The next day of military training, Zheng Pang was the last to get up.
He yawned, still extremely sleepy.
“Hurry up and wash up. Eat your buns — only fifteen minutes left.”
Zhang Xianyu had woken up early and brought back breakfast from the cafeteria.
Zheng Pang and Luo Danqing rushed to finish washing up, grabbed the buns from the table, and began stuffing them into their mouths while running.
Zheng Pang ended up burning his mouth with the steaming hot buns, yelping all the way.
The three took a shortcut through the bomb shelter.
Along the way, they noticed other students in military training uniforms doing the same.
Everyone exchanged knowing glances and quickened their pace.
Instructor Lao Zhao was a strict man.
As soon as the three returned to the lineup, he began a headcount, and then the relentless day of training resumed.
After the evening singing contest, Zheng Pang flatly refused to take the shortcut through the bomb shelter again.
That morning had been out of desperation — the fear of being punished had outweighed his fear of ghosts.
But now, no way he was going back.
Zhang Xianyu had actually wanted to check that iron gate again.
Though he hadn’t noticed anything strange passing by the day before, the place had given him an eerie feeling, so he had planned to take another look on the way back.
But with Zheng Pang unwilling to go, he had no choice but to abandon the idea and return to the dorm via the main path.
Each day, the training got more intense.
The exhausted freshmen slept like the dead.
No one noticed Zheng Pang sneaking out and returning in the middle of the night.
Military Training — Day 3
Under the desperate prayers of thousands of freshmen, it finally rained.
Summer downpours always come without warning — large raindrops the size of soybeans hit the ground, quickly forming shallow puddles.
Before Zhang Xianyu even opened his eyes, he heard a ruckus outside.
People were yelling nonsense at the top of their lungs, banging metal basins, clanging stainless steel lunchboxes — the chaotic noise sounded like a grand symphony, only stopping when the instructor arrived.
The instructors went dorm to dorm checking in, their faces dark as they announced: No training this morning.
Wait for notice about the afternoon session.
With the rain pouring down outside, going out was inconvenient.
Zheng Pang wandered to another dorm to hang out and came back with a deck of cards.
The three started playing Dou Dizhu (Fight the Landlord).
By lunchtime, the rain had gradually stopped.
The sun, hidden all morning, reclaimed its place in the sky and began shining with full force.
Within just over an hour, the puddles had dried up — only the damp ground proved there had been a downpour.
Instructor Lao Zhao returned, his smiling face looking more like a grimace, and announced that training would resume as usual in the afternoon.
Zheng Pang cried out,
“If it doesn’t rain heavily, it’s an eternal night of suffering!”
That afternoon, heading to the training field, Zheng Pang looked utterly deflated — like he was walking to an execution rather than to training.
Just as the group lined up, they heard a commotion from another squad not far away.
The wilted Zheng Pang immediately perked up, his tiny eyes squished by his chubby face shining with curiosity.
“Looks like it’s the History Department…”
Sometimes, Zhang Xianyu really admired him.
They had enrolled at the same time, yet Zheng Pang seemed to know people everywhere.
He could walk down the street with his arm around someone, shouting “bro.”
When it came to gossip, wherever the drama was, there he was too.
If there were awards for gossiping, Zheng Pang would probably win Best Spectator of Drama.
Sure enough, at lunchtime, Zheng Pang brought his meal over to the History Department to catch up on the drama.
He returned shortly after, looking thrilled and animated.
“Two students from the History Department went missing — a guy and a girl.Heard they never came back last night.”
A guy and a girl — a couple.
If they didn’t return to the dorm all night, what else could they be doing?
Obviously, they were responding to the call and contributing to the glorious cause of population growth in the New China.
Everyone chuckled at the gossip and went their separate ways.
The next morning, the entire History Department was punished with twenty laps.
Zheng Pang went snooping again and heard the couple had been found, but their instructor had been scolded by higher-ups and, still holding a grudge, pushed the whole group through a harsh round of training.
As Zheng Pang relayed the story, he sounded gleeful, his tone dripping with that sour single-dog energy: “Serves them right! You leave the group, you get punished!”
Late at night.
Moonlight spilled like water.
Downstairs in the silent dorm building, a figure stood at the entrance.
The person tilted their head back to look up, their neck bent at a right angle to the head.
In the darkness, their face was indistinct, but their eyes were deep and intense — like a lovestruck girl waiting for her date.
In dorm 510, Zheng Pang sat up and climbed out of bed, clumsily but hurriedly putting on his shoes.
He staggered to the door.
“Fatty? Where are you going?”
Luo Danqing had just returned from the bathroom and caught sight of Zheng Pang opening the door to leave.
But Zheng Pang didn’t respond.
Like a puppet, he mechanically opened the door and stepped outside.
“Fatty?”
Luo Danqing felt something was off.
He reached out to grab him but missed, so he quickly woke up Zhang Xianyu.
“Zheng Pang’s acting weird!”
Zhang Xianyu immediately got up and followed him downstairs with Luo Danqing.
Zheng Pang was slow and stiff, so they caught up with him on the third floor — only to see him walking with wide, glazed-over eyes, completely unaware of his surroundings.
“Is he sleepwalking?”
Luo Danqing blocked his path, lowering his voice in case sudden noise would startle him — people said you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker directly.
Zheng Pang grew visibly anxious at being stopped.
He reached out and shoved Luo Danqing aside, staggering forward again — as if something downstairs was calling to him.
Zhang Xianyu grabbed him and didn’t hesitate anymore.
Ignoring Luo Danqing’s presence, he pinched a hand seal and pointed at Zheng Pang’s forehead.
“Clear and pure, return to true self. Three souls, return to the body. Seven spirits, rest in peace. Spirit of the platform, ghost of light, attach swiftly. By decree of law — return!”
Zheng Pang, still struggling a moment ago, suddenly went limp and collapsed to the ground.
“Watch him.”
Zhang Xianyu left that instruction behind and dashed downstairs, but when he reached the door, there was nothing there.
“Whoever it was ran fast.”
He looked at the firmly locked door, then turned back.
Together, he and Luo Danqing carried the unconscious Zheng Pang back upstairs.
Zheng Pang was big and heavy — at least 200 pounds.
It took a lot of effort for the two of them to haul him back up to the fifth floor.
Panting, Luo Danqing looked down at the unconscious Zheng Pang, then turned to Zhang Xianyu.
“He wasn’t sleepwalking, right?”
Zhang Xianyu had been wondering how to cover it up, but seeing the “don’t lie to me” look on Luo Danqing’s face, he sighed, scratched his head, and nodded.
Luo Danqing’s expression shifted subtly.
His gaze grew complicated.
“So…ghosts really exist?”