Among all the gossip, the one topic that came up most often was still that classroom on the first floor. Because the number plate on the door read “104” in golden lettering, everyone simply called it Room 104 whenever they mentioned it.

Room 104 had once been the room where Shi Yutong and Yan Qin had deliberately locked Yan Qing inside, hoping to frighten her. Because a female student had once hanged herself there, it had become known as a haunted room, and since no one dared go near it, it had been left perfectly preserved all this time.

“A ghost shadow?” Yan Qing listened as Jing Lan rambled on animatedly, and slowly turned her head. “Really?”

“Yes, yes — so many people have seen it with their own eyes.” Even as Jing Lan brought it up, she couldn’t conceal the pallor creeping across her face. “I saw it too.”

“What did the ghost shadow look like?”

“A red shape, drifting through the air, right inside Room 104. The shadow was pressed against the window — Xiao Chen and I both saw it.” Jing Lan lightly brushed at the cold sweat on the tip of her nose. “The door to Room 104 has been locked from the outside all along, so a shadow suddenly appearing inside — it’s almost certainly the ghost of that girl who hanged herself. They say she was wearing a red dress when she died, so she could become a vengeful spirit.”

“Stop talking, it’s terrifying.” Xiao Chen and Jing Lan instinctively threw their arms around each other, seeking mutual comfort.

Yan Qing had never believed in ghosts or spirits. So-called supernatural phenomena were nothing but tricks and theatrics.

But that evening after class, she really did see the ghost shadow Jing Lan had described — swaying and brazen, hanging in plain sight against the weathered old window.

\~

That day, Murong came as usual to pick Yan Qing up after school. It wasn’t until most of the other students had gone that Yan Qing and Jing Lan finally appeared together at the entrance.

Just as the three of them were about to leave the school grounds, Murong turned to glance back without thinking — and that single glance nearly sent this bold and practiced martial artist crumpling to the ground in fright.

Room 104 sat at the corner of the teaching building, partly concealed by several tall scholar trees. Outside the windows stood a row of green leafy shrubs, and beside them sat a concrete flower bed. The few rose bushes planted in the bed had no one to tend to them and drooped listlessly, left to their own fate.

And there, on the middle window of Room 104 — the old, worn one — hung a shadow. It was slender and slight, its outline vaguely human in shape. Long black hair obscured whatever face it had, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female. In the thin, fading light, the clothing it wore appeared red as blood.

That ghost shadow gave Murong quite a fright. Even after returning to the Yan Mansion, she still felt her hair standing on end, her heart uneasy.

After preparing hot water for Yan Qing to wash up, Murong couldn’t help asking: “Miss, you don’t look frightened at all. Do you think that shadow wasn’t a ghost?”

Yan Qing took the towel she handed over and smiled lightly. “Ghosts and spirits — believe in them and they exist; don’t believe, and they don’t.”

“Does Miss not believe?”

Yan Qing said nothing. She raised both hands and pressed the warm, damp towel against her face, closing her eyes. Behind her eyelids, that pale and ghastly shadow surfaced again.

She had once been inside Room 104 herself, had investigated the scene firsthand. That hanged girl had indeed died by her own hand.

Now this classroom was seeing the frequent appearance of ghost shadows, and various ghost stories spun from that fact had become vivid and colorful, spreading widely throughout the school.

She was certain this was no ghost — it was man-made. And the person pulling the strings behind it all — what was their purpose? Were they merely seeking attention, or did they have some other agenda?

It was probably out of professional habit that Yan Qing always liked to complicate simple things.

The following day, Yan Qing was still turning the matter of the ghost shadow over in her mind when Jing Zhi came bounding into the courtyard in high spirits. Her voice could be heard long before she arrived: “Miss, Miss!”

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