The sound of voices.
The team walked to an apartment building and heard a man speaking to an empty room on the third floor.
It was an old six-story walk-up on the street, most of the exterior tiles fallen off, the upper half yellowed, the lower half gray concrete.
The entrance was an old-fashioned green painted iron security door, half open. The yellowed couplets on the door were only half left, still showing the words “Safe Travels.”
Su Shuang’er stopped downstairs and looked up at the window on the east side of the third floor.
The window frame was crooked, the glass full of cracks, no different from the surrounding dilapidated windows.
Only in that window, a warm yellow desk lamp shone steadily, very conspicuous in the quiet ruins.
The man’s muttering drifted down intermittently from the third floor.
“It rained again today.”
“There’s still leftover rice in the fridge for one more meal.”
“Xiao Hong, how was school today?”
“No one. I forgot again, no one.”
Mu Yingying frowned: “Is this dangerous?”
“Other weirdnesses are repeating obsessions, repeating actions, but he seems to be living an ordinary life. Not a harmful weirdness, just a pitiful person talking to himself.”
White Peace explained.
This kind of too-ordinary muttering was more depressing than loud shouting.
White Peace walked to the building entrance, looked at the lit window, and spoke slowly: “This household is special. The weirdness is not a person, but the room itself. The male owner died three years ago. He lived alone all his life, no wife, no children, friends and relatives long passed. He worked as a translator at home for years, talking to himself in the empty room for thirty years, speaking to imaginary family, his deceased mother, a fictional daughter. This room listened to his muttering for thirty years and recorded every word. After the man died, the room awakened on its own and began replaying his words in a loop. This is not an ordinary resentful spirit; it’s the room continuing to live out his days for him.”
Su Shuang’er asked softly: “Will it hurt people?”
“By itself, no malice, no self-awareness, just mechanical repetition. But the more cycles, the heavier the room’s resentment and presence. Once the presence is full, it will actively attract living people passing by. Those who enter will be trapped, take over the male owner’s role, and talk to themselves in the room for life, becoming the next host. In recent years, no living person has passed by. The room waits for a replacement, and its presence begins to spread outward. If left alone, the entire ruins district will become its echo.”
“How do we resolve it?”
“Can’t kill it; the room has no concept of life or death. Its owner was lonely all his life. Before dying, he left a wish: if someone passes by in the future, please say ‘hello’ to him. As long as someone speaks that word to the room, the obsession will be fulfilled.”
Mu Yingying was surprised: “That simple?”
“Simple for us. But for him, he waited who knows how many years.”
Su Shuang’er was silent for a moment, then said: “Let’s go upstairs.”
Everyone entered the dark stairwell.
The concrete stairs were old, the iron handrails rusty.
With each floor climbed, the man’s muttering became clearer.
The doors on the second floor were all open; the rooms had long been looted.
Only the door on the east side of the third floor was closed.
At the end of the third-floor corridor, a doorplate hung on the dark brown security door.
On the yellowed plastic nameplate, there was only the character “Zhou,” no other decoration, looking very desolate.
Su Shuang’er reached out and pushed lightly. The door was unlocked, made a creaking sound, and slowly opened.
Inside, the warm yellow desk lamp was still on.
It was a small room of about ten square meters, simple in layout.
The folding bed against the wall was neatly made, the gray-white bedsheets washed faded.
On the wooden desk were an enamel mug, an old desk lamp, and a stack of books.
Against the wall stood an old single-door refrigerator with a kettle and thermos on top.
An old TV was covered with a thin layer of dust.
A wardrobe held a few simple men’s clothes.
The whole room was very clean, as if carefully tended for years.
No one was inside, but echoes came from the walls, ceiling, floor, and furniture, chaotically mixed together, like an old radio constantly changing channels, replaying the man’s words from his lifetime.
“It rained again today.”
“There’s still leftover rice in the fridge for one more meal.”
“Xiao Hong, how was school today?”
“No one. I forgot again, no one.”
“I’ll go buy some groceries tomorrow.”
“Mom, I miss you.”
“Another day like this.”
“I wish someone could hear me.”
The folding chair at the desk was empty, but it felt like the owner had just stood up and would come back at any moment.
There was half a cup of water in the enamel mug, still a little warm.
It felt like the lonely man was still here.
Mu Yingying looked at the tidy items in the room, feeling distressed: “Before the apocalypse, I saw too many people like this, living alone, keeping their rooms clean, but never cared for by anyone. They live quietly by themselves, not making a fuss, but in fact, they have long become ‘oddities’ in others’ eyes, but no one ever cared.”
Su Shuang’er walked slowly into the room and stopped next to the folding chair.
This was the spot where the man sat and talked to himself for years.
She didn’t sit down, just gently touched the back of the chair. It still had a bit of warmth, as if the owner had just stepped away.
She took a deep breath and spoke softly to the quiet room: “Hello.”
As soon as she said it, the chaotic echoes in the room instantly stopped.
Not fading slowly, but like someone pressed pause, suddenly silent.
This silence was special, with a feeling of an obsession being touched.
A few seconds later, the desk lamp flickered once.
Then, a gentle, hoarse elderly male voice came from the empty folding chair.
“Hello.”
“Thank you.”
The man’s voice slowly spoke: “I’ve waited a long time.”
His tone sounded very relaxed: “I thought talking to myself was just talking to the air. Now that someone is willing to say hello to me, that’s enough.”
“What is your name?”
“Zhou Qiang. Zhou for thorough, Qiang for strong. My mother gave it to me, hoping I would have a smooth and strong life. But I have been solitary all my life, living alone, not really strong, just staying in this room, doing translations, reading books, talking to myself, living quietly.”
“Mr. Zhou, you’ve done well. Not resenting others, not harming anyone, staying in your place, that’s already not easy.”
“Young Lady, what is your name?”
“Su Shuang’er.”
“Miss Su. No one has ever formally called me Mr. Zhou. Thank you.”
After a long moment, the man said softly: “Your greeting has fulfilled my lifelong wish. I can leave peacefully now, and this room can finally be quiet.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find my mother. I called out to her every day facing the empty room. She must have heard me and has been waiting for me.”
Su Shuang’er nodded silently.
“Let me say one last thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“The weather is really nice today.”
Su Shuang’er looked up at the window.
Outside was a red sky, a wasteland, wind and sand blowing.
But she understood that for Zhou Qiang, who had been lonely for most of his life, having someone respond and greet him was the best weather.
She softly echoed: “Yes, Mr. Zhou. The weather is really nice today.”
As her voice fell, the warmth on the folding chair slowly faded, turning completely cold, as if the lonely figure had finally gotten up and walked away.
The desk lamp flickered once more and slowly went out.
The room became pitch black, and the heavy presence was gone.
No more echoes, no more obsession, just an ordinary empty room.
On the wooden desk, in the enamel mug, a ghost crystal slowly condensed.
This ghost crystal had no special pattern, no glow, looked very ordinary.
Su Shuang’er stepped forward and picked it up, not putting it into the eerie crystal pouch.
Everyone turned and left the room, gently closing the security door.
As the door closed, White Night drifted over, raised a hand to wipe the dust off the doorplate, leaving the lonely character “Zhou” clearly and cleanly in place.
The group slowly walked down the apartment building.
Outside, the wind and sand were still strong, the red sky covering everything.
Only that window no longer had the warm yellow light, just like all the ruins.
Su Shuang’er pushed the bicycle, and everyone continued on their way.