The phone rang while Lu Yan was taking a shower. She had gotten off work late, arriving home close to ten. Exhausted and sleepy, all she could think about was her bed. The moment she got home, she headed straight for the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to quickly shower and get to sleep.
Her phone lay on the bedroom bed, some distance from the bathroom door. With the heavy shower curtain drawn, creating a barrier to the outside world, the ringtone had to sound several times before it penetrated through to reach Lu Yan’s ears.
Lu Yan knew better than anyone what a phone call after ten o’clock meant. Her heart jumped, and she didn’t even mind the shampoo still in her hair. Hastily wrapping herself in a towel, she rushed out to answer the phone.
But before she could reach the bed, the ringing stopped.
She wiped her eyes with the towel and picked up the phone, sliding open the lock screen.
The screen showed a long string of unfamiliar numbers—neither her department’s landline nor the number of any colleague on duty tonight. The timing of the hangup was too perfect; it was a scammer’s trick.
“What nonsense,” she muttered, immediately blacklisting the number before tossing the phone back onto the bed.
Last night had been the same. At nearly eleven o’clock, just as she was about to sleep, a phone call came in.
Thinking it might be an emergency from the department, she answered urgently, but the caller hung up before she could speak.
She silently cursed the scammer on the other end and returned to finish her shower.
With thoughts weighing on her mind, this shower was quicker than usual. When she emerged, the sudden absence of warm steam made her shiver. She hurried to her wardrobe, pulled out a set of thick pajamas, put them on, and dove under the covers.
Winter had come unusually early to S City this year. It wasn’t even December, yet the cold was extraordinary. Last week’s consecutive rainy days had pushed temperatures close to freezing.
Many pedestrians on the streets had already switched to winter clothing, and those who were slightly thin or frail had even wrapped themselves in thick-down jackets.
Tonight, even she, who had always prided herself on her good constitution, was finding it hard to bear.
Pulling the covers higher, she yawned and closed her eyes. As usual, sleep came quickly—in her profession, one couldn’t afford the luxury of insomnia.
Her consciousness was sliding into the abyss when she was once again awakened by the ring of her phone.
She was so tired that at first, she only registered it as an irritating noise by her ear, making her furrow her brows. As it continued, the ringtone became like thunder.
As if someone had pulled her from the mud of sleep, her eyes suddenly snapped open.
On the other end was her colleague working the night shift, their voice slightly anxious: “Xiao Lu, you need to come to the department. We’ve got another epidural hematoma case, and we’re overwhelmed.”
Somehow, she felt relieved. It reminded her of that famous joke about the person downstairs waiting all night for the other shoe to drop from above, unable to sleep until it did. For her, this call was that “other shoe.”
Now that it had come, she felt at ease.
“Alright, I’m coming,” she jumped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom to hastily wash her face, threw on her coat, and headed out.
She was on backup duty tonight, and according to hospital regulations, she needed to be on-site within ten minutes if the department needed her.
Wrapping her coat tightly around herself, she strode out of the apartment building.
After passing through a long narrow alley, just as she was about to turn the corner toward the hospital’s east gate, someone suddenly appeared before her.
It was 1 AM, the air was freezing, and besides her, there wasn’t even a cat in the alley.
The person’s appearance was abrupt, silent yet aggressive, heading straight for a collision with her.
Lu Yan reacted quickly, dodging to the side, and heard a loud clatter as something fell to the ground.
The person lost their balance and stumbled forward.
“Bang—” Something—either their head or shoulder—hit the wall hard, making a dull sound.
In the chaos, Lu Yan steadied herself against the wall, wondering why someone would be walking so urgently in the middle of the night.
Remembering various crime news stories, she became alert and quickly took a step forward.
This movement brought her completely out of the narrow alley. With a turn of her head to the right, she could see the security booth at the hospital’s east gate. It was only a few hundred meters away—just one shout and the security guards would hear and come running.
After positioning herself safely, she cautiously looked back, only to discover that the person was a young girl.
She had been ready to leave, but now she stopped.
The girl’s collision with the wall had been both urgent and forceful; from what she could tell, it seemed serious. If she had unfortunately hit her head, she might need hospital treatment.
“Are you alright?” she asked, looking the girl up and down.
The alley was narrow, half-filled with dim, scattered shadows of buildings. The girl stood pressed against the wall, completely motionless.
As Lu Yan looked at her, a strange feeling gradually welled up inside her.
The girl wore twin ponytails and a short A-line coat with dark red and black plaid—a particularly restrictive style. Such an outfit might have been fashionable eight or ten years ago, but now it seemed distinctly outdated.
Even stranger was that the moment her eyes fell on the girl, it was as if something flickered across her vision, giving her the feeling she had seen this person somewhere before.
Could she be a colleague from the hospital? She couldn’t help wanting to look more carefully, but unfortunately, the street lamp overhead was too dim to illuminate the girl’s downturned face.
Just then, the girl suddenly moved. One arm still braced against the wall, she slowly raised the other arm. As if dusting herself off, she patted her shoulder.
Lu Yan was startled for a moment, then relaxed. It didn’t seem like she had injured her head or face.
She was in a hurry, and since the other person seemed fine, she didn’t plan to linger any longer.
Just as she was about to turn and leave, the girl suddenly shook her head slowly, as if checking for neck injuries. With this movement, her ponytail’s hair clip caught the streetlight’s glow, its outline becoming strikingly clear.
Blood rushed through Lu Yan’s brain, and her heart began to beat violently, so hard and fast it felt like it might burst from her chest.
It was a crystal butterfly hair clip, gaudy and outdated, probably extinct from today’s market, but just a few years ago, they had been everywhere on the streets.
She clearly remembered how the butterfly’s wings spread gracefully to either side, how they were densely covered with rhinestones, and how they would emit scattered starlight whenever they caught the light.
At seventeen, she had bought three pairs of such clips. She kept one pair for herself and gave the other two to her then-best friends. One of those girls had worn hers every day as a symbol of their friendship.
The night wind cut against her face like a knife. Her mind went blank as she stared ahead, feeling as if something in the darkness was pressing heavily around her, surrounding her.
She finally understood where that strange feeling had come from—everything about this girl, from her accessories to her walking stance, aligned perfectly with the person in her memories.
But—no, this was impossible.
She felt unprecedented confusion, and simultaneously, a long-sealed wound in her heart seemed to be struck by a merciless shovel, showing signs of breaking through to the surface.
The girl seemed to notice Lu Yan’s strange reaction and became completely still in the darkness.
An unsettling silence crept through the alley.
Though they were only a few meters apart, there seemed to be a boundary line between them—if Lu Yan took one more step forward, she would step into an unknown world.
Imperceptibly, in the murky darkness, the girl moved, turning her body. As she turned, her red coat brushed against the wall, making a “sha sha sha” sound.
By the time Lu Yan realized the other person had turned to face her, her breathing had become heavy.
Reason told her this girl couldn’t possibly be that person, but watching the girl approach her with quiet steps, her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
Just then, a sharp ringtone cut through the alley’s silence.
Lu Yan was stunned for a moment, then realized it was a call from her department. Like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, she immediately lowered her head to look for her phone without thinking.
But the more anxious she became, the harder it was to find.
While she desperately searched for her phone, the girl stopped walking, as if quietly waiting for something.
The ringtone rang out loudly, one call after another, stubbornly vibrating the surrounding air.
Lu Yan held her breath as she searched, finally finding her phone after what seemed like ages.
Before she could pick it up, her colleague’s voice came through at double volume, carrying a hint of amusement: “Xiao Lu, that emergency case isn’t coming anymore. If you haven’t left yet, there’s no rush to come over.”
She had been so flustered that she had accidentally hit the speaker button.
Her heart jumped at first, but then, strangely, she became calm. Her colleague’s voice was familiar and real, clearly distinct from the world in the alley.
Rationality instantly returned. She collected herself, turned off the speaker, and switched to earphone mode.
“It’s fine, I’m already downstairs. I’ll be there soon.”
Only when she spoke did she realize her voice had become incredibly hoarse as if scraped with sandpaper.
While she was on the phone, the girl had silently turned around and was walking toward the depths of the alley.
Lu Yan naturally noticed this and quickly lowered her phone.
The alley was long and narrow, with street lamps placed every few meters to light the path for pedestrians.
The girl walked through the alley, her red coat illuminated by one lamp after another, light and shadow alternating, sometimes bright, sometimes dim. From a distance, she looked like a red flower floating on black waves.
Lu Yan stared intently at the girl’s receding figure. Even after she had walked very far away, that red dot in the alley still wouldn’t fade.