After Being Watched by My Paranoid and Gloomy Deceased Wife - Chapter 1

The nights in the suburbs are usually very quiet, especially since not many owners have moved into the Shengfan Huadu community I chose.

There are also no lively commercial streets or snack stalls nearby; once night falls, all that remains is the “chirp-chirp” of cicadas and the “whoosh-whoosh” of the wind rustling the leaves.

Many night-blooming jasmines are planted in the community, with yellow and white flowers nestled among the green leaves, and the streetlights are not very bright.

When the wind blows, it momentarily feels like countless tiny eyes are twinkling, flickering on and off, bringing with it an intoxicatingly rich and dizzying fragrance.

I watch my shadow change shapes on the concrete ground, sometimes stretching long, sometimes becoming small, and gradually, the shadow on the concrete has long hair reaching her waist.

I glanced at the sky—it happens to be a full moon again. The sixteenth-day moon is indeed exceptionally round.

I cut my hair short six months ago, very short, just grazing my ears. It hasn’t grown much now, barely reaching my chin.

I consulted a doctor a few days ago, but my psychological condition seems fine. Perhaps the problem lies in something that changed my long-held, stubbornly adhered-to worldview.

It’s fine, it’s not a big problem. As long as it doesn’t affect my life.

It is high summer now. The community pond is filled with noisy frog croaks, but that’s how summer should be.

I’m wearing cool shorts very suitable for summer, watching my shadow silently follow me, sometimes ahead of me, sometimes beside me, and sometimes falling behind me.

When the wind blows, the long skirt in the shadow also sways.

It looks quite beautiful, I thought. I should find a long skirt to wear tomorrow too.

My apartment building isn’t far from the community entrance. I soon reach the elevator, press the 13th-floor button, and I’m the only living person in the elevator.

The air conditioning in the community elevator is running very cold. I have to avoid the vent, using my palm to soothe the goosebumps raised by the excessive chill.

I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but the elevator light is a bit dim, though still acceptable. It’s just that I see a blurry figure reflected on the janitor’s newly polished, gleaming elevator door.

Long hair, white long dress, just missing a bright red lip.

Looking at this blurry figure, I know it must be a beautiful woman with great temperament, at least.

I sighed with admiration. Unlike me, who usually wears short-sleeved T-shirts with big shorts, I only look presentable when I occasionally dress up; otherwise, my fashion is hideous.

Out of certain suspicions, I specifically researched whether any accidental deaths had occurred in the community since its completion a while ago.

It turns out this community is surprisingly peaceful; there hasn’t even been a construction accident or a desperate person jumping off a building.

Although the elevator light is so dim it barely casts a silhouette, fortunately, I quickly reach my floor.

Based on my observation, I am currently the only resident on this floor. So, after the sound-activated light repeatedly broke down despite my repairs and the property management’s active replacements, I gave up.

The property management was quite proactive in telling me that they would send a repairman tomorrow to check the wiring and voltage in the hallway, striving to resolve the issue of the sound-activated light not turning on or being too dim as quickly as possible.

That’s good. The monthly property fee isn’t being paid for nothing.

As I walk, the sound-activated light flickers on unsteadily. The faint light seems to tell me that it truly tried its best.

I sighed. Perhaps the hallway was too empty and quiet, causing my sigh to echo. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms and told them to calm down.

Upon returning home, I turned on all the lights in the house, comfortably nestled on the sofa under the warm yellow light, contemplating whether to order takeout or make instant noodles tonight.

“Clang! Crash—”

I was startled, immediately sat upright, and looked toward the kitchen. Through the transparent glass door, I saw that the bowls and chopsticks I rarely use had slid out of the cabinet and shattered all over the floor.

Well, ‘Shattering brings peace and safety,’ I reassured myself while deciding on tonight’s dinner.

I’ll cook instant noodles with old hen soup, plus sausage and an egg.

Then, I slowly got up, preparing to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

Sigh, I didn’t expect that despite all my caution, I would still cut my hand on a shard.

Given that I’m a bit faint-hearted around bl00d, I quickly checked the wound for ceramic or glass debris and decided to leave it alone.

Anyway, it wasn’t a large wound; a quick rinse under the tap only made it drip a few drops of bl00d.

With a “bang,” the kitchen window was blown open by the wind, and the curtains danced with a “whoosh-whoosh” sound.

To avoid getting the curtains dirty, I had to find the medical kit in the bedroom after tying up the trash bag and use a bandage to cover this small wound that would heal in two or three days.

Once I had the bandage on, the kitchen curtains quieted down.

I thought about it and decided to gather and tie the curtains together anyway, lest they fly up and knock over something else next time.

So, I’ll just eat instant noodles after all.

Simple and easy. Which flavor I’ll eat depends on which lucky instant noodle packet I select.

I pulled open the food storage cupboard. A cupboard full of instant food gave me a great sense of security. I closed my eyes and, like a concubine selection process, reached in at random—

The texture was a bit cool, somewhat silky, and quite delicate, rubbing back against my finger.

My goosebumps sprung up rebelliously.

It’s over, I thought in despair. Have I become so terminally ill? Auditory and visual hallucinations were bad enough; now I can hallucinate touch.

I suddenly opened my eyes, determined to see what I had touched.

Excellent. It’s Braised Pork Ribs Noodles. Long time no see, my beloved concubine.

The tension just now made my back all sweaty, and my clothes were sticking to me. With the kitchen window still open, the wind blowing in made it feel as if someone was lying on my back, which was spooky.

That association is far too terrifying, I decided to forget it.

I boiled a kettle of water and planned to take a quick shower while it heated up, letting the hot water wash away all my fear!

The bathroom was steamy. Under the shower, I felt reborn, and the chilling, hair-raising sensation on my back significantly subsided.

However, the water seemed a bit off.

The shower water dripped down my hair, and the initially transparent stream gradually mixed with faint red streaks. Slowly, the bl00d color grew thicker…

“Drip-drop, drip-drop.”

The shower water accidentally got into my eyes. Unable to open them for a moment, I blindly wiped my face with my hand and managed to open my eyes slightly.

Something in the bright red, bloody water was struggling to take shape.

I decisively pushed the water control switch, cutting off the water supply to It!

Just then, the color of the standing water on the bathroom floor quickly turned from pale to red, bubbling as if boiling.

I tried to lift my feet and leave, but my feet were tightly sucked in by this thin layer of bl00d water, as if rooted.

My brain temporarily crashed due to processing content beyond common sense, but thankfully, it quickly resumed operation.

I must be seeing things, I thought, or perhaps I’m having an episode.

The bloody water climbed from my feet and wrapped around my calves, gradually moving upward, like a passionate vine.

Even if we’re not familiar with each other, isn’t It being a little too forward by doing this?

Where is It reaching?!

I wanted to move but couldn’t, only able to desperately hope that I would wake up quickly and that this hallucination would end.

The omnipresent water, the steam rising in the bathroom, provided It with convenience. The air began to feel dry.

What faced me was no longer the bathroom wall, but a softly contoured face and body sculpted from the bl00d-red water flow.

She had no eyes; the sockets were only empty voids. Her nose bridge was refined, and her bloody lips curled up.

Before I could clearly see Her appearance, Her body, composed of water, leaned toward me, pressed tightly against me, and our lips touched.

How can water have the metallic sweetness of bl00d?

I wanted to vomit but couldn’t control my actions, not even closing my mouth.

I was forced to swallow.

I wondered how long this situation would last, whether I would suffocate and die, and how I could break free.

Just before I suffocated, I saw the bl00d color gradually fade. The water “splashed” onto the floor, and the transparent droplets that splashed up landed on me.

“We will meet again.”

Auditory hallucination. It’s all auditory hallucination.

I shivered, grabbed a towel, and ran out of the bathroom in shock, shutting the door. I wrapped the towel carelessly around myself and leaned my back hard against the door.

The sound of wind came from the bathroom’s ventilation window. A weak gust of air attacked my back through the gap under the door.

Frightened, I shot into the bedroom at a speed I wouldn’t normally believe possible.

I wondered, What is She? A shadow? Water? Wind?

“Achoo!”

I sneezed and realized I had turned on the room’s air conditioner to 24 degrees using an app before I came home.

Under normal circumstances, this would be the temperature I find most comfortable, but I was freezing now, as cold as if I had just escaped the Arctic.

There were no mirrors in the bedroom. Since the first time I noticed the shadow’s change, things like slippers and mirrors had been removed from my bedroom.

It wasn’t a matter of feudal superstition, just a search for psychological comfort.

But the warm lamp by the bed, which should have been cozy, clearly cast the shadow of a long-haired woman kneeling on the bed against the wall.

The events of this period have made my nervous system extra sensitive to shadows.

Almost the instant I saw the shadow, the goosebumps rose without fail.

I suddenly remembered: I clearly turned on the full house lighting when I came home! Why is only the bedside lamp on in the bedroom?

The house had excellent soundproofing done during renovation, so the only sounds in the room were my own breathing and my exceptionally loud heartbeat.

I hesitated between going to inspect the bed and turning on the main light, ultimately deciding to do both.

With a “snap,” I turned on the bedroom light. The bright light momentarily blinded me, and then I noticed the shadow on the wall was gone.

It must have been an illusion, I thought.

But I couldn’t stay in this room either. I sent a message to Guan Lan, telling her that the hallucinations I had experienced today were quite severe.

Guan Lan replied quickly.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t worry. You’ve been too tired recently, you need a good night’s sleep. Go rest after you finish eating.”

“I happen to be out of town right now. Go sleep in my room. I’ll stay with you for a while when I get back. Don’t be scared, it’s nothing.”

Guan Lan is my good friend. She used to be a psychological counselor but quit two years ago, citing excessive stress, and then inherited her family business—a lifestyle quite enviable.

I was in a car accident once and forgot many things. Many aspects of my past became blurry.

Because of the accident, my impression of Guan Lan was reduced to just a name; it was essentially a re-introduction after that.

Concerned that my amnesia might be trauma-induced psychological disorder from the car accident, she provided me with many free counseling sessions.

I even went to the psychiatry department for an examination. The results showed no problems; no brain abnormalities were found, nor was there any bl00d clot that could be pressing on nerves and affecting memory.

My amnesia must be in an area where psychology and medicine have yet to find answers.

I don’t have many regrets about it. Since then, my memory capacity hasn’t changed much; I just can’t remember the past, and maybe I forgot some other things, but it’s not important.

People always live in the present and create the future. Since I can’t recall the past, I’ll let it be; perhaps one day I’ll suddenly remember.

Although my memories of the past are hazy, I remember my bank card and phone passwords very clearly.

I even keep my bank balance firmly in mind, which shows that truly important things are never forgotten.

I resigned from my job during my recovery from the car accident. My company at the time was overwhelmed without its leader, and my resignation was the last straw.

Especially since my condition clearly prevented me from properly handing over my work—

I couldn’t even remember many work-related matters.

That period was quite chaotic, and I don’t remember it clearly, but I parted ways with the company amicably.

Fortunately, my bank balance is enough to keep me well-fed and clothed for the rest of my life. As long as I don’t try starting a business, investing, or managing finances, and don’t spend extravagantly, a simple life is completely sufficient.

The house was fully paid for and renovated, so I naturally found a nearby, relaxing job, clocking in and out daily, leading a simple and fulfilling life.

If not for these changes, my life should have continued smoothly, predictably, and very happily.

But now I am in the study, holding the hairdryer I quickly snatched from the bedroom, blasting it on the highest setting.

I dare not close my eyes, nor do I dare look at my own shadow. But despite my fear, I must dry my hair, lest I suffer from headaches when I’m older.

I thought my resilient nerves shouldn’t have any hallucinations or auditory delusions.

Guan Lan often teased me, saying I’d make sure to eat even if the sky fell.

Even upon waking up from the car accident, the first things I asked were about my phone and wallet, how much the hospital stay cost, and whether the driver responsible had been caught.

I am truly excessively pragmatic.

The house has a four-room, two-living-room, one-kitchen, one-bathroom layout: a master bedroom, a study, and another room that was initially a guest room but has practically become Guan Lan’s exclusive room.

I rarely enter Guan Lan’s room except when having the cleaning service tidy it up.

The study doesn’t have a bed, and I don’t want to go back to the bedroom to get a new quilt. Considering work tomorrow, I decided to temporarily borrow Guan Lan’s room.

Without proper rest, I won’t have good mental clarity, and I am determined to get a good night’s sleep.

However, just as I settled into the quilt with its unfamiliar scent, finally getting past the initial strangeness and nearing sleep, a drop of water suddenly landed on my face—