The timing of that text message hit me like a ton of bricks.
Damn it. I had gone to the wrong person. The old man's note said "Old Liu," but it turned out to be Liu Yunbo, not Liu Qingzhu like Old Tang had told me!
Just as I turned to leave, the rotten wooden door in front of me creaked open.
Before I could even see who was behind it, a hand shot out from the darkness and clamped tightly around my wrist.
It was a withered, bloodless hand, thin and brittle like a dead branch. It looked as though it could snap at any moment, yet its grip was terrifyingly strong. I struggled to pull away, but instead, I was dragged a few inches closer.
Panicking, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
"Old Tang sent me! He needs your help!"
Whoever was inside froze at my words and loosened their grip. But in just those few seconds, my wrist was already bruised black and blue.
I rubbed it painfully and was about to bolt when a raspy voice drifted out from the darkness.
"Young as you are, you've already got plenty of filth clinging to you."
The words made me hesitate. I froze mid-step, slowly pulling my foot back.
The door creaked wider, revealing a gaunt old man in tattered clothes. He leaned on a cane, his hollow eyes locked on me. Most of his hair had already fallen out, leaving only two tufts of snow-white at his temples.
What truly made my stomach tighten, though, was his right eye—an eerie, glowing green. It was like a jade gem embedded in a piece of dead wood.
"Cough… cough…" He bent forward hacking, then slowly lifted his gaze.
"The Old Tang you mentioned… is that Tang Xiansheng?"
For some reason, my body suddenly felt bound by an invisible force. I couldn't move a muscle, couldn't even twitch.
I forced myself to nod. "Yes. He told me to find you. Said you could save him."
Of course, I was lying through my teeth. Tang wasn't even human, and if he was introducing someone to me, that person definitely couldn't be trusted. If I admitted I came on Tang's behalf, I was afraid this old man might chew me up on the spot.
"Heh… heh heh…" The old man covered his mouth with one hand and chuckled. The sound echoed up and down the dim stairwell, chilling me to the bone.
"Foolish brat. You're already knee-deep in disaster, yet you still have time to send him messages?"
My mind raced. Was that a threat? Was he about to make a move?
I instinctively stepped back, but he continued: "You've been running into a string of strange people lately, haven't you?"
I almost laughed out loud. Seriously? You've got a glowing green eyeball and you're asking me if I've seen weird people?
But of course, I didn't dare say that. I simply gave a quick "Mm" in response, palms sweating, my mind only on how to get the hell out of there.
Then an idea struck me. I sighed dramatically and said:
"Sir, Old Tang ran into a powerful enemy. He told me to warn you. From now on, any messages between you two will go through me."
The old man stiffened. His green eye flickered slightly.
"Come inside. I'll show you something."
As he turned to go back in, I cursed silently and bolted. By the time I hit the stairwell corner, I heard him shout behind me:
"Don't trust too man—"
The rest was lost in the echo as I sprinted down eight flights of stairs like my life depended on it.
The pitch-black hallway clawed at my clothes, ripping them in several places, but I didn't dare slow down.
Bursting out of the building felt like being reborn. I bent over, gasping for air.
Suddenly—two heavy hands slapped down on my shoulders.
"Ahhh!" I screamed and jumped away, heart hammering.
But when I turned, it wasn't the old man. It was a short, stocky uncle in his fifties. Under the weak glow of the doorway lamp, I could just make out his round face and thick brows. A long scar stretched between his eyes.
He gave me an awkward smile. "Sorry, lad. I saw you bent over and thought you were puking from too much drinking."
Relief washed over me. "It's fine. I just… went to the wrong place. Nearly scared myself to death."
"Oh?" He tilted his head. "I've lived here over ten years. Who were you looking for? Maybe I know them."
Still catching my breath, I said, "I'm looking for a ghost hunter named Liu Yunbo."
The man chuckled. "Well, isn't that fate. I'm Liu Yunbo. But you're wrong about one thing—I'm not old, and I don't hunt ghosts."
I nearly jumped for joy. I grabbed his hand tightly. "Master Liu! Please, you have to save me. Uncle Liu from Tangwa Village sent me to you!"
Yunbo raised a brow, then nodded. "Oh, Six-Uncle recommended you? In that case, come inside. We'll talk."
He didn't look anything like the ghost-hunting master I'd imagined. Just a chubby, middle-aged man. But with all the horrors piling up lately, I had no choice but to trust him.
I cast a wary glance back toward the doorway I had just fled from. Yunbo must have noticed my hesitation, because he gave me a reassuring smile.
"With me here, you've got nothing to fear."
I followed him back into the dark stairwell, trembling. But watching his broad shoulders and steady steps, a strange calm settled over me.
He lived on the third floor. His apartment was bare—just old furniture and a single black-and-white photo on the wall.
As soon as I sat down, I couldn't hold back.
"Master Liu, I know you're a man of skill. I've been tainted by something foul. Please, you must save me!"
I recounted everything from the last few days: Old Tang, the cursed bus, even the mix-up with Liu Qingzhu.
Yunbo studied me quietly, then asked, "Have you heard of the tale of the water ghost seeking a substitute?"
Of course I had. When I was a kid, there was a river near my village. A young woman drowned there, and after that, someone died in the river every year. Folks said the spirit of the drowned was trapped in the water, unable to reincarnate unless it pulled another soul down as its replacement.
Yunbo nodded. "Ten years ago, the first bus driver lost control and plunged into the reservoir. I thought it was an accident. But the second driver and his passengers were dragged down by the first. Then the third by the second. And now… you're the fourth."
My stomach dropped. "So if I quit now, would that save me?"
He shook his head slowly, not answering. My heart nearly stopped.
"What? Is it too late? Am I already doomed?"
He heaved himself out of the chair with effort. "No. You can't quit. You still have to drive that bus."
I felt like a boulder had been set on my chest. More than money, more than anything, all I wanted was to return to my safe, ordinary life—far, far away from the cursed Route 13 night bus.
"Listen carefully," he said. "You drove the first trip of this new cycle ten years later. That bound you to the bus. Until this is resolved, you can't just walk away."
Bound to the bus? My head spun. So all those drowned souls… they've pinned their hopes on me?
Desperate, I asked, "Isn't there any other way?"
He disappeared into the bedroom, then returned with a simple black-bead bracelet. He pressed it into my hand.
"This will keep you safe for now. Never forget to wear it whenever you drive. On the fifteenth night of this lunar month, after your shift, come find me again."
Before I could reply, he waved me off. "Go. It's not good for you to stay here too long."
I bowed deeply, clutching the bracelet as if it were my lifeline, and left.
Outside, I examined it under the dim light. Ten or so black beads strung together. Not wood, not jade—just an unremarkable little thing.
By the time I reached the dorm, it was already half past nine. I wanted to skip my shift, but Yunbo's words echoed in my mind. Reluctantly, I went back down.
I strapped the bracelet to my wrist, checking it every few minutes like a nervous child.
At eleven sharp, I drove the bus out of the station. Passengers boarded as usual, chatting and laughing. I half expected to see Uncle Liu from the village, but he didn't show that night.
After dropping the last passengers off at the paper mill, I hurried into the roadside weeds to relieve myself. On my way back to the bus, I stumbled hard on the uneven dirt road, nearly eating dirt.
Guess it's true. Some people's luck is just rotten.
Back on the road, my mind kept replaying Yunbo's words. Before I knew it, the reservoir loomed ahead. The headlights illuminated a figure standing right in the middle of the road.
Cold sweat drenched my back. I slammed the brakes to the floor.
The bus screeched to a halt, barely missing him. I panted heavily, ready to curse—when I noticed something horrifying.
My wrist was bare.
The black bracelet was gone.
I slapped my forehead. "Shit! Must've fallen when I tripped earlier!"
And then I looked up.
The figure in front of the bus wasn't a stranger.
It was Old Tang.
The very first driver of Route 13—the one who had been dead for ten years.