They All Say I Encountered A Ghost Chapter 2

Though it was summer, it was cold on the bus. The back of my neck was chilled, as if someone was standing behind me blowing on it.

"Sir, could you turn the air-conditioning down?" I asked uncomfortably.

Without turning around, the bus driver coldly put me off with the words, "Pa.s.sengers please behave, don't hara.s.s others."

I was pretty speechless. I was the only person on the bus, and I had just spoken to the driver. Was I hara.s.sing him? Leaving aside the question of s.e.xuality, I thought this was an attack on my character.

I, Shen Jianguo, was born on National Day, had lived under the red flag, grown up among spring breezes. Since childhood I had been a triple-A student, an outstanding member of the Communist Youth League, and an outstanding student civil servant. He could question my abilities as someone who had just entered society, but he absolutely couldn't question my moral character!

I wanted to justly defend myself, but after the driver said these words, the chill decreased considerably. He must have turned the air-conditioning down for me.

My heart softened at once. It was so late, and the driver had gone out alone to pick me up from school. He must have been extremely irritated. To look at it from his point of view, while I was going to a haunted community in the middle of the night for the sake of a job and not in an especially good mood, the driver may have been sleeping at home when he was woken up. It was no wonder he was in a bad mood.

It was only a little squabble. There was no need to get heated with him.

"Thank you, sir," I said to the driver, smiling.

But the driver remained unfriendly. He turned to look at me, his face indistinct in the darkness. I could only see his eyes, sharply reflecting the light.

He laughed grimly. "I hope I can see you again tomorrow."

He was wis.h.i.+ng me success in being formally employed. He was a driver with a cold exterior but a kind heart. It was too bad his temper was rather stiff. It made a bad impression. But once you knew him better, you would understand he was a good person.

"Thank you," I replied warmly.

The driver was very steady. Though it was very foggy, he still drove peacefully and without any b.u.mps all the way to the Farther Sh.o.r.e Estate.

While getting off the bus, I said, "Sir, tomorrow I may go back to school to get my luggage..."

I was still speaking when the door callously shut and the bus drove away, leaving not even a puff of exhaust behind.

I knew I'd been wrong. I hadn't even started working, and I was already asking the driver to help me move my luggage. The company vehicle had no responsibility to help me take care of my private business. To move, I would need to find a moving company. But I'd really been so hard up lately. Well, tomorrow I could rent a pedi-cab. It might be cheaper.

To make a good impression, I was wearing my only proper outfit, specially prepared for interviews: a b.u.t.ton-down, a tie, a suit, and black leather shoes. I went to Building 4 and stood downstairs nervously adjusting my tie, making sure I was clean and spotless. Then I went into the elevator.

The lights in the elevator flickered, and it kept stopping. In the dead of night, this was kind of scary. The management of the Farther Sh.o.r.e Estate seemed to be very lax due to the developer having been stabbed. On the message board there had been people complaining that the property management's service was unsatisfactory. It looked like that was true.

I inwardly bolstered myself: Shen Jianguo, stay strong! A green college student just starting to work has to go through a difficult period. That the job comes with housing is already very good, how can I be so picky about what the housing is like? So what if the elevator isn't safe? It's only the fourth floor. Next time I can take the stairs.

The elevator's weight capacity was average, and it was rather slow. It took ten floors worth of time to get to the fourth floor, and I was nervous the whole time, afraid the elevator would get stuck along the way.

But luckily that didn't happen. I arrived without incident on the fourth floor.

The lights in 404 were on, and the door was open. I knocked on the door and politely said, "Is there anyone there? I'm Shen Jianguo, the applicant for the teaching position. A lady told me to come here now to move into the employees' dormitory."

"It must have been Princ.i.p.al Zhang." A short man wearing a jacket and a beret came out. "Please come in."

I examined my future dormitory as I followed him into 404.

The lights were a little dim. It looked like I would have to change the bulbs when I'd been paid my salary. These surroundings weren't suitable for preparing for cla.s.s.

The curtains were too thick. The shady side of the building didn't get much sunlight to start with, and with such thick curtains the place really felt depressing. I would have to change them to thinner ones.

On the other hand, the apartment was quite clean, and there was a lot of s.p.a.ce. There was a living room and three bedrooms. In the living room was a desk with two chairs. The short man sat down on one side and gestured for me to sit across from him.

He really was very short, probably not even a meter sixty. I had noticed he walked on tip-toe, as if trying to make himself appear taller.

Ah, I understood what a pain height could be. I was malnourished as a child. In my first year of senior middle school I was only 1.5 meters tall, skinny and short, shorter than the girls. My cla.s.smates often made fun of me, and I felt inferior. Fortunately, I took part in a compet.i.tion and earned scholars.h.i.+p money. The quality of my meals improved. I drank more milk and ate more meat, and during senior middle Year 3 I grew over twenty centimeters. Now I was 178 centimeters tall. I regretted that I hadn't made it to 180, but it was still a good height for this country. I was satisfied.

"You're Shen Jianguo, right?" The short man didn't look so good. His face looked pale and bloodless in the light. He must have been burnt out from staying up late. "Princ.i.p.al Zhang said you should sleep in the master bedroom tonight. If you're still alive tomorrow morning, you can go to work."

"Is Princ.i.p.al Zhang the lady whose phone number is 94444? Is she the head of our training inst.i.tute? Anyway, it's only sleeping here for one night, what could go wrong? You don't believe that talk online about this place being haunted?" I asked carelessly, smiling.

The short man looked up at me. I saw a wound at the edge of his forehead and said in concern, "What happened to your forehead?"

"Oh, I b.u.mped it," the short man said woodenly.

"You already know my name, so could I ask how I should address you?" I asked, reaching out a friendly hand. I knew this was perhaps my future colleague.

He didn't shake my hand. His hands remained on top of the table, and he smiled. "My surname is Ju."

"Is it the 'ju' in 'furniture', or is it 'ju' as in 'residence'? That's an unusual family name." I drew my hand back a little awkwardly. I hadn't expected to meet with unfriendly treatment from a coworker when I was just starting out.

I had heard from older students that sometimes immature old employees would bully younger ones in the office, mainly because they were afraid of having their work stolen. Though most of these people only did these childish things because they had inadequate skills and lacked self-confidence, and thought the newcomers posed a threat to them.

I told myself not to be angry and answer people with a smile.

The guy stared at me, slowly shaking his head. "Neither."

"Then which character is it?"

"It's the 'ju' in 'chainsaw'."

I frowned slightly. Was that surname included in the Book of Family Names?

"Do you belong to a minority ethnic group?" I asked doubtfully. I'd had some cla.s.smates in school who belonged to minority ethnic groups, and some of them had had very odd surnames that didn't appear in the Book of Family Names.

He shook his head again, tilted his neck, and slowly stood up. "You see, I've always been short. Taller boys have bullied me since I was little. They kicked me, hit me, said I definitely wasn't a real man, forced me to take off my pants so they could make sure. Sometimes they would get bags of milk powder and stuff them into my mouth and say I had to drink more milk to get taller. I nearly suffocated. I clutched my throat and begged them to give me water to drink, but they only laughed and said if I wanted to drink I could only drink p.i.s.s."

Hearing this made me feel sad. I could understand somewhat why his att.i.tude towards me wasn't good. Tall boys had left him with a psychological shadow. His aversion wasn't towards me specifically but towards a whole group of people.

But I had faith that when we interacted in the future, he would come to understand what kind of person I was, and I would work hard to use my own experiences to help him overcome these difficulties.

I stood, went around the table, and took his right hand in both of my hands. In my most sincere voice, I said, "It wasn't your fault, it was theirs! No matter what age or what reason, bullying others is always wrong!"

"I know." Mr. Saw's face was very stiff, his smile a little false. "Of course it wasn't my fault, it was all their fault. Weren't they tall because their legs were long? No problem, I just had to saw their legs off!"

"..."

Looking at his joyful expression, I was temporarily speechless. I wasn't a psychology student. I had no experience in these things. I had no idea how to talk him down from such an extreme idea.

"One long leg, two long legs, three long legs, four... So many, so long, I carefully measured and cut them down so they would all be the same height as me." Mr. Saw's face was rapt, as if he was immersed in beautiful memories.

This was wrong! I let go of his hand and surrept.i.tiously put my hand in my pocket, wanting to call the police.

"When I sawed off all their legs, their screams sounded so good, like the sounds of nature. I jumped off the building amidst those beautiful sounds. That was the happiest day of my life." Mr. Saw stood and pointed at his forehead. "Because I jumped off the building, I have a wound on my head now. It wouldn't be convenient to take off my hat and let you see."

"Mr. Saw, have you ever thought of going to see a psychiatrist?" I found my phone and quickly unlocked it, trying to dial 110 without looking. In this situation, a smartphone wasn't as good as a phone with a keypad. I couldn't find the keys at all.

Mr. Saw went on: "You aren't especially tall, but your legs are long. I like your legs. Would you let me saw them off?"

"Of course not!" I refused, slowly backing away.

Mr. Saw was also standing. He raised his left hand, which had been hidden under the desk. He was holding a chainsaw.

"Then I'll have to use force. Relax, it won't hurt." He slowly walked towards me.

I stared at him without blinking, not daring to look away, trying to be prepare myself for a sudden attack. He moved forward, and I kept backing up, until my back was against the wall. A cold feeling reminded me that I was close to the door, so I started to shuffle in that direction.

Mr. Saw didn't seem to be in a hurry to hurt me. He stood up on his toes, licked his lips, and watched me feel around for the doork.n.o.b, then shove open the door.

The doork.n.o.b didn't move. The door had been locked at some point.

"You can't get out," he said, turning on the chainsaw, which buzzed loudly, piercing the silence of the night. "Be good now. Give me your legs, and I'll let you walk away."

"If I give them to you, I won't be able to walk away!" There was no way to escape now. I threw myself at him and grabbed his wrist, meaning to s.n.a.t.c.h the chainsaw away.