A red dress?
I looked at Fatty—170cm tall and 85kg—and a suspicion formed in my mind:
"Did she take the initiative to talk to you?"
Fatty nodded. "Yeah, that rich beauty didn't put on any airs at all."
I pressed further:
"When you talked to her, did you mention me? Mention where we live?"
Fatty looked surprised. "Yeah, how'd you know? She asked, so I told her the truth. She didn't mind that we're just workers at all. She even said I'm a nice guy."
Well, there's the problem. No doubt about it—the female neighbor Fatty met every morning was that red-clothed fierce ghost!
But why didn't she harm Fatty? Yet she came after me? And last night, why did I keep running into supernatural things? Was I just having a streak of bad luck?
After all this, I had no mood to go to work. I messaged my boss to ask for leave, then headed to the bathroom to shower—I'd been through a whole night of chaos, and my body was covered in sweat and dirt.
When I took off my clothes, I was stunned. On my chest, there was a bluish-black human face! To be precise, a ghost's face! The red-clothed ghost's face, like a blurry copy, was stuck to my chest. Staring in the mirror, the ghost face on my chest had empty eye sockets, as if it wanted to devour me.
When I walked out of the bathroom, my limbs felt weak. I forced myself to calm down and think of a plan. This thing was definitely left by that red-clothed ghost. She'd completely set her sights on me.
Last night, the old lady risked her life to save me, and I was sheltered by the security guy—only then did I escape. What would I do tonight??
In desperation, I thought of a relative back home and called him right away. This relative knew a local feng shui master. I'd heard the master was very capable; people from all around—adults and kids alike—went to him for problems like being startled or possessed. But he was old and didn't travel far, only working in his hometown area.
I was just an ordinary person, facing something so supernatural. I had no choice but to ask the feng shui master for help.
After getting his number, I called the old master immediately. The master was in his seventies but still in good health, with a booming voice. On the phone, after listening to my story, he thought for a while and said:
"All living people have three flames of yang energy on their bodies. As long as these flames burn, evil things dare not approach. The fact that you keep seeing them means your yang energy is too weak. Young man, lust harms yang energy the most. You must have overindulged at night, damaging your yang."
I wanted to cry but had no tears. I swore I'd never "reward myself" casually at night again.
The master continued: "That ghost face on your chest is a 'ghost brand.' It's a mark left by that red-clothed fierce ghost. She'll definitely come for you again tonight. Young man, ghosts in red clothes are extremely malicious. I don't have the ability to deal with her, but I can teach you a method. It'll at least keep you alive for tonight."
The master then told me his method. He told me to find a mentally disabled child under twelve, then use snacks or money to trade for a piece of clothing the child was wearing. I'd need to know the child's full name. During the trade, I had to call the child by their full name and ask, "[Name], are you willing to trade with me?" Once the child said yes, it would work.
At night, I just needed to cover my head with the child's clothes, and the red-clothed ghost wouldn't be able to find me. But this trick would only fool her once—it wouldn't work again.
By the time I hung up, it was already 10 a.m. Finding a mentally disabled child became my biggest problem.
After thinking for a long time, I remembered the lady who sold jianbing guozi (Chinese crepes) outside Zhongjin Primary School. She had a mentally disabled son, around ten years old. Sometimes she brought him to the stall, sometimes not. I decided to go try my luck.
When I got to Zhongjin Primary School, I found I was lucky. The lady was making crepes for some passers-by, and her disabled son was with her at the stall today. The child looked about seven or eight, playing alone under a tree by the wall. The lady was busy and didn't have time to watch her son.
I walked over right away to chat with the little boy. "Little friend, what's your name?"
The mentally disabled child smiled naively at me. "My name is Ma Xiaohu."
"Your clothes look nice. Can big brother trade snacks with you for them?"
Ma Xiaohu stared at the spicy strips in my hand, salivating. "Okay." He took off his old jacket and handed it to me. I took the jacket with one hand and gave him the snacks with the other, then took a deep breath. "Ma Xiaohu, are you willing to trade with me?"
Ma Xiaohu smiled and said, "I am willing!"
It worked! I grabbed his little jacket and ran, afraid his mom would notice.
I'd asked—the method wouldn't harm the disabled child. Simply because disabled children are born with incomplete souls, lonely ghosts mistake them for their own kind. I was just borrowing the identity of a disabled child for one night.
With the clothes in hand, I felt much more at ease and returned to the rental room. Fatty had already gone out.
I lay on the bed and searched online with my phone for things like "what to do if you encounter a ghost." Remembering Ye Manman still suffering, I searched for news about fraud in northern Myanmar, then for information about Xinbei Pharmaceutical Factory No. 2.
I vaguely felt that the security guy was my only way to escape the red-clothed ghost. After all, Ye Manman's mother had risked her life to get me to him. Putting the red-clothed ghost aside for now, I at least had to fulfill the old lady's last wish—first, deliver the gauze and hemostatic medicine.
As soon as night fell, I bought the supplies and waited at that crossroads. The later it got, the fewer cars and pedestrians there were. By around 1 a.m., the crossroads was completely empty.
I clutched the plastic bag with the medicine tightly, straining my ears for any sound around me. Suddenly, a series of "tap-tap-tap" footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around nervously.
There, at the intersection behind me, stood a woman in revealing clothes. But no matter how provocative her outfit was, I recognized her face at a glance—those clear eyes and gentle expression, just like in my memories. It was Ye Manman!
Her face was pale, and she looked at me in surprise with her beautiful eyes. "Zhou Yi? What are you doing here?"
My throat felt tight. Everything from three years ago flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern.
"Auntie asked me to bring you medicine," I said, summoning the courage to walk toward her—even though she was no longer alive.
As I approached, panic appeared on Ye Manman's face. She stepped back two paces, subconsciously raising her hand to cover her overly exposed chest. This was probably the clothes she'd worn in northern Myanmar before she died.
I simply lowered my eyes, avoiding looking at her. "I came in a hurry this time… next time, I'll bring you a dress, your favorite white dress."
Ye Manman didn't reply. After a while, I couldn't help but look up and saw she was already in tears.
"Zhou Yi, thank you. Why didn't my mom come?"
Mentioning the old lady, guilt overwhelmed me, and my throat tightened. "Auntie… to save me…" I told her everything that had happened the night before. The more I talked, The more I talked, the more upset I felt, and I even wanted to punch myself twice.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, my eyes red.
Ye Manman sobbed. "It's all my fault. I was too trusting back then, so I got tricked. It was all Yang Lei's plan— that agency is connected to the Yang family! Zhou Yi, if my mom was willing to save you, then you must live well. Don't come back again."
As she spoke, she took the medicine from my hand, a relieved smile appearing on her face. She muttered to herself, "Finally, medicine. Thank you."
She looked so pale and fragile. Her overly revealing clothes felt completely out of place on her.