There was a person hidden in this perpetually locked room—and this realization sent a shiver down Yu Sheng's spine. Immediately following this shock, a torrent of uncontrollable thoughts surged through his mind.

Who could it be? When had that voice’s owner entered the room? Was it someone who snuck in while he was asleep, or had they already been there when he arrived two months ago?

If it were the latter, then he could be certain that during his long periods of staying indoors, that room on the second floor had never been opened. Did that mean the person had been hiding in there all along? Was there a hidden passage inside the room, or...

Was that faint laughter truly coming from a "person"?

Chaotic thoughts churned wildly in his mind, but Yu Sheng’s expression gradually grew calm—as if his encounter with that “frog” earlier had changed something within him, or perhaps it was the impact of “dying and coming back to life.” He felt that his mindset... had become somewhat strange.

The voice hadn’t revealed any clear malice or goodwill, but it undeniably carried an eerie undertone. Yet, Yu Sheng realized that after the initial shiver, all fear and hesitation vanished from his heart. What remained was... an intense curiosity.

He wanted to figure out what was inside that room.

He wanted to uncover the secrets of this house he’d claimed as his refuge.

This was his safe house, his only "home" in this vast city—and a safe house couldn't have anything unsafe inside it.

Slowly, he leaned closer, pressing his ear against the door. He thought he could still hear that faint laughter, but it might have just been his imagination, or perhaps it was simply the hollow sound of wind echoing in his ears.

He curled his fingers and knocked on the door.

“Open up. I know you’re in there.”

The door, of course, didn’t open, but that hollow, faint laughter did go silent.

As expected, nothing happened. Yu Sheng said nothing, merely turned around and left—heading to the storage room next door, where he grabbed an axe.

Returning to the locked door, he silently raised the axe high and swung down with all his strength.

The sharp blade struck the thin wooden door, producing a piercing metallic sound. Sparks flew, but the door, which looked like it could be kicked open with a single blow, didn’t have a scratch.

That faint laughter drifted back again, but Yu Sheng paid it no mind. His face remained calm as he lifted the axe once more, like he was engaged in a meticulous, patient task, and continued to hack at the door, one swing after another.

He knew this door wouldn't open—neither a power drill nor an electric saw had managed to breach it before. But despite knowing this, for the past two months, he had tried almost every day to force it open. Today, hearing that eerie voice from within had only intensified his determination to open it now.

With each fruitless swing, his resolve grew even stronger. Each strike of the axe became more forceful, more fluid, even… more in tune with his own intentions.

As his mind began to drift, strange associations surfaced out of nowhere—he imagined himself as Wu Gang, the man chopping down the tree on the moon. If he could just cut down that damned osmanthus tree, Chang'e, the Jade Rabbit, a cartoon character from his childhood, and even Sisyphus would gather around to applaud him…

He had no idea why Sisyphus appeared in his imagination.

Meanwhile, the faint laughter behind the door grew sharper, louder, and closer, as if the voice’s owner had stepped right up to the other side of the door. It was as if she knew the door's invincibility and was mocking Yu Sheng’s futile efforts from behind this wall of sighs.

But suddenly, another voice joined the eerie giggles, this one tense and irritated: “Could you stop laughing already? If he really breaks in, I’m the first one getting chopped!”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The laughter ceased instantly.

Yu Sheng, mid-swing, froze. A moment later, he heard a cracking sound from his lower back.

As the crack resounded, his grip on the axe faltered, and it dropped, striking a completely unintended spot.

A crisp sound, entirely different from the sharp metallic clash from before, echoed from the door. The axe slipped from Yu Sheng’s grasp and hit the floor, and in the same moment, he clutched at his back.

A sharp pain shot through him—his back had seized up badly, and it hurt like hell.

He hobbled closer to the door, supporting himself as he went, and after a couple of seconds, he focused on where his last axe blow had landed.

A “spark” hovered just two to three centimeters from the door’s surface, near the hinges. It looked like the spark from his axe strike, but it was frozen in mid-air, suspended in that split second of brightness.

Using this tiny glimmer of light, Yu Sheng vaguely saw something on the door’s surface nearby.

He reached out to touch it.

A suppressed, high-pitched yelp came from behind the door: “Eek—!”

Yu Sheng’s eyes snapped open. The living room’s bright lights seemed glaring, and sleeping on the couch had left his whole body aching. The wall clock ticked away in the distance, its hands indicating he’d only been asleep for about forty minutes.

He lay there for a moment, dazed, before the hazy memories gradually became clear.

He had fallen asleep… Was it all just a dream?

He sat there in a daze, but suddenly, something felt off.

That “dream” had been far too vivid, the details too clear and complete. He could distinctly remember the feel of the axe handle in his hand, the way the sparks froze on the door, and...

Abruptly, he sat up from the couch, and in one swift motion, reached for his back.

Pain flared—sharp and intense, just like in the dream.

“Ow… dammit…” Yu Sheng couldn't help but mutter a few choice words. The sudden movement combined with his strained back and the soreness from sleeping on the couch created an excruciating mix, making him feel that getting stabbed by that frog might have been preferable—at least that pain had only lasted two seconds. After taking a moment to steady himself, one hand still clutching his lower back, he struggled to stand up, becoming increasingly certain that this wasn’t just an ordinary “dream.”

A back injury in a dream shouldn’t hurt in real life. Something truly bizarre had occurred.

Whatever it was, it had invaded his "safe house."

He adjusted his posture, trying to minimize the pain, and after briefly collecting his thoughts, he grimaced and headed up to the second floor.

With his baton in hand, he entered the cluttered storage room and found the axe he had used in the dream. He gripped it with his right hand—the feel of the axe handle was exactly the same as in the dream, even retaining the warmth of his own palm.

He approached the locked door. It remained intact, unmarked, and there was no trace of the "light scar" from his dream.

The room beyond was silent, as if nothing had ever happened.

But Yu Sheng still clearly remembered the location of that light scar.

He hooked his baton onto his belt, transferred the axe to his left hand, and reached out with his right, feeling along the door’s surface for the spot he had struck in his dream. He remembered it was near the hinge, where he had glimpsed something faint…

The next moment, his hand found a handle—one that was invisible to the naked eye.

But he was sure this handle hadn’t been there before. He had thoroughly inspected every inch of this door on his very first day here and could confirm that he’d never encountered any “invisible handle”!

Why was it there now? Was it because he had seen it in his dream? Because he had somehow “cut through” a disguise with the axe? Because he had confirmed its existence, and thus, it became real?

Yu Sheng’s mind raced through all the movies, TV shows, games, and novels he’d ever consumed, instantly coming up with countless possible explanations. Yet, without a moment’s hesitation, he grasped the invisible handle and gently twisted it.

The impenetrable, locked door opened effortlessly, swinging in from the side of the hinge.

It revealed an empty room. As he cautiously peered through the widening gap, he could see only the floor and the walls. The light from the doorway slowly crept into the dark space, illuminating it bit by bit, but even when he had fully opened the door, there was no sign of the one who had been laughing inside.

Gripping the axe tightly, Yu Sheng carefully scanned the room, only to find that it was completely bare—not even a bed or a chair.

Only the cool moonlight, seeping through the gaps in the old curtains, left a patch of mottled light on the floor.

Suddenly, something caught his eye.

There *was* something in the room. On the wall directly opposite the door hung a painting.

It was framed exquisitely, with intricate, classical vine patterns decorating the edges. The center of the painting depicted a chair draped in a soft red carpet as the background.

But aside from that, there was nothing else—no cursed, mocking spirit sitting in the painting, staring at him.

Frowning, Yu Sheng stared intently at the frame, which stood about half a meter tall. Without breaking his gaze, he reached out to find the light switch next to the door and turned on the room's lights.

Under the glow of the lamp, the painting’s details became even clearer.

Cautiously, he approached the painting, observing it for a long while.

And then he noticed something—very faint and barely noticeable—the edge of a skirt in the corner of the frame.

“...”

After a moment's thought, he spoke, his expression somewhat odd: “Are you there?”

“No, I’m not!”

A nervous voice answered from within the painting.