On a rare day off, Wen Yifan stayed up late watching a horror film.
The eerie atmosphere relied entirely on background music and screams, with no genuinely terrifying scenes throughout—as bland as plain water. Out of sheer compulsion, she forced herself to stay awake and finish it.
When the closing credits finally appeared, Wen Yifan even felt a sense of relief. She closed her eyes, her thoughts instantly tangled in drowsiness. Just as she was about to drift into sleep, suddenly, her door was slammed with a heavy thud.
Bang—
Wen Yifan’s eyes flew open.
Following the sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains, she stared at the door. From outside, she could clearly hear the slurred voice of a drunken man, along with stumbling footsteps heading in another direction.
Then came the sound of a door opening and closing.
Blocking out most of the noise.
She kept staring at the door for several more seconds.
Only when complete silence settled did Wen Yifan finally relax.
She pressed her lips together, belatedly feeling a surge of irritation.
How many times had this happened this week?
Once her sleep was interrupted, Wen Yifan found it hard to fall back asleep. She turned over, closed her eyes again, and idly diverted some attention to recalling the movie she’d just watched.
Hmm.
Wasn’t it a ghost film?
And a low-budget flop that thought it could actually scare people.
……
In her half-asleep daze, the ghostly face from the movie inexplicably surfaced in Wen Yifan’s mind.
Three seconds later.
She bolted upright and turned on the bedside lamp—
For the rest of the night, Wen Yifan slept fitfully. In her half-conscious state, she kept feeling as though a bloody ghost face was staring at her from beside her.
Only when dawn fully broke did she finally manage to fall asleep.
The next day, Wen Yifan was woken up by a phone call.
Due to her late night and lack of sleep, her head throbbed as if pierced by needles, a dull, persistent ache. Annoyed, she fumbled for her phone and answered.
Her childhood friend Zhong Siqiao’s hushed voice came through: “I’ll call you back later.”
“……”
Wen Yifan’s eyelids twitched, her brain short-circuiting for two seconds.
Calling just to wake her up.
That alone was bad enough.
But it wasn’t even the main event—just a preview.
Her morning temper instantly exploded, and she blurted out, “Are you fucking—”
Before she could finish, the call was already disconnected.
It was like punching cotton. Wen Yifan opened her eyes, deflating in frustration. After lying in bed for a while longer, she picked up her phone and checked the time.
It was almost 2 p.m.
Wen Yifan didn’t linger in bed any longer. She grabbed a jacket, threw it on, and got up.
Entering the bathroom, Wen Yifan was brushing her teeth when her phone rang again. She swiped the screen with one hand and put it on speaker.
Zhong Siqiao spoke first: “Ugh, I just ran into a high school classmate. I had greasy hair and no makeup on—so embarrassing!”
“You don’t die that easily,” Wen Yifan mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “Isn’t this just fraud?”
“……” Zhong Siqiao fell silent for three seconds, deciding not to engage. “Wanna hang out tonight, Reporter Wen? You’ve been pulling overtime for a whole week. If you don’t find some fun soon, I’m afraid you’ll drop dead.”
“Mm. Where?”
“How about near your workplace? Not sure if you’ve been. A colleague told me there’s a bar there, and the owner is crazy—” Zhong Siqiao paused. “Wait, why do I keep hearing water? Are you washing dishes?”
Wen Yifan: “Brushing my teeth.”
Zhong Siqiao gasped. “You just woke up?”
Wen Yifan answered slowly, “Mm.”"It's already two o'clock, even lunch break is over by now." Zhong Siqiao found it strange, "What were you doing last night?"
"Watched a horror movie."
"What's it called?"
"Ghost at Dawn."
Zhong Siqiao clearly had seen this film before and choked: "That counts as a horror movie?"
"I went to sleep right after watching it." Wen Yifan ignored her comment, grabbing a towel nearby to dry the water droplets on her face. "Then I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, and just like in the movie, I saw a ghost."
"..."
"I spent the whole night fighting with the ghost."
Zhong Siqiao was speechless: "Why are you suddenly bringing up such an R-rated topic with me?"
Wen Yifan raised an eyebrow: "How is this R-rated?"
"What kind of fight lasts all night?"
"..."
"Alright, stop fooling around with ghosts. Big sis will take you to fool around with men." Zhong Siqiao grinned, "Handsome, lively, steaming hot men."
"I'd rather fool around with ghosts." Picking up her phone, Wen Yifan walked out of the bathroom. "At least it's free."
Zhong Siqiao: "Who said anything about spending money? We can fool around with men for free too."
Wen Yifan: "Huh?"
"We can fool around with our eyes."
"..."
After hanging up, Wen Yifan messaged the landlord again on WeChat about last night's situation. Hesitantly, she added that she might not renew the lease after the contract expired.
Two months ago, she moved from Yihe to Nanwu City.
The apartment was found by Zhong Siqiao, and there weren't any major issues.
The only inconvenience was that it was a shared apartment. The landlord had converted an eighty-square-meter unit into three separate rooms, each with its own bathroom. There were no kitchen or balcony facilities.
But the rent was cheap.
Wen Yifan didn't have high requirements for her living space. Besides, the location was convenient, and the area was lively. She had even considered renting it long-term.
Until one day, she happened to run into the man next door when she was leaving.
Gradually, it evolved into the current situation.
Unconsciously, the sun had set, casting a layer of darkness over the small room. Lights from countless households flickered on one after another, illuminating the city in another way as the night market gradually came to life.
Seeing that it was about time, Wen Yifan changed her clothes and applied some light makeup.
Zhong Siqiao kept bombarding her with messages on WeChat.
Grabbing her small bag from the coat rack, Wen Yifan sent a voice message saying, "Heading out now." She walked out, glanced across the hallway, and instinctively quickened her pace, exiting into the stairwell to go downstairs.
They agreed to meet at the subway station.
Their destination was the bar Zhong Siqiao had mentioned earlier, located opposite Shang'an Plaza. Crossing a small pass, they could see a continuous string of neon lights adorning the signs of each shop.
A place that only came alive at night.
It was Nanwu City's famous bar street, known as the Street of Vice.
Since they hadn't been there before, it took them a while to find the bar tucked away in a small corner.
The name was quite interesting—"Overtime."
The sign was exceptionally simple. A pure black background with neat, square white lettering. Amidst the flamboyant and flashy neon lights around it, it stood out as modestly as a small hair salon operating in the area."That's actually a pretty good idea," Wen Yifan observed after staring for a moment. "Opening a hair salon in a bar street—guys looking to pick up girls here can get styled up first."
Zhong Siqiao's mouth twitched as she dragged her inside. "Stop talking nonsense."
Contrary to Wen Yifan's expectations, the interior wasn't as deserted as she'd imagined.
They had arrived relatively early, before peak hours, but most of the seats were already scattered with patrons. On stage, a woman with a guitar was singing softly, creating a mellow atmosphere. Behind the bar, a blond bartender juggled a cocktail shaker with effortless flair.
After finding a seat, Wen Yifan ordered the cheapest drink on the menu.
Zhong Siqiao scanned the room, disappointed. "Is the owner not here? I don't see anyone particularly good-looking."
Leaning her chin on her hand, Wen Yifan remarked idly, "Maybe it's that bartender."
"Bullshit!" Zhong Siqiao clearly couldn't accept this. "My colleague who frequents Street of Vice said the owner of this bar is practically the Sign of Fallen Street."
"Maybe he just calls himself that."
"?"
Noticing Zhong Siqiao's glare, Wen Yifan straightened up and emphasized, "Just... maybe."
Zhong Siqiao snorted.
The two chatted intermittently for a while.
Zhong Siqiao brought up the afternoon's events: "Oh, by the way, the guy I ran into today was my vice class monitor from freshman year. He also went to Nan University and was apparently roommates with Sang Yan, though I hardly ever saw him."
Hearing that name, Wen Yifan froze momentarily.
"Speaking of which, do you remember—" Zhong Siqiao's gaze drifted and suddenly fixed on the bar. "Hey, look at ten o'clock. Is that the 'Sign of Fallen Street' arriving?"
At the same time, Wen Yifan heard someone call out, "Brother Yan."
She followed the sound.
A man had appeared beside the bartender at some point.
The bar's dim lighting cast shadows as he leaned casually against the counter, his back to the bar, head slightly tilted as if conversing with the bartender. Dressed in a solid black windbreaker, his tall, straight frame was slightly hunched, yet he still towered over the bartender beside him.
His dark eyes and faintly curled lips gave off an air of roguish charm.
The rotating colored lights overhead streaked across his face.
In that instant, Wen Yifan recognized him.
"Holy shit." Apparently making the same realization, Zhong Siqiao's voice rose in astonishment. "Girl, the 'Sign of Fallen Street' is Sang Yan!"
"..."
"How is it that the moment I mention him, he shows up... Do you remember him? Before you transferred schools, he even pursued you..."
At these words, Wen Yifan's eyelashes fluttered slightly.
Just then, a server passed by. Feeling uneasy, Wen Yifan was about to interrupt when a sudden exclamation caught her attention. She looked up to see the server apparently bumped into, the tray in their hands tilting slightly—the glass on it toppling over.
Straight toward her.
Liquor and ice cubes splashed onto her left shoulder before sliding down. She was wearing a loose sweater, now drenched on one side, the cold seeping in and sending shivers down her spine.
Wen Yifan gasped and instinctively stood up.
Though the bar's music was loud, the commotion was far from subtle.As if startled, the waiter's face turned pale, repeatedly apologizing.
Zhong Siqiao also stood up, helping Wen Yifan brush the ice cubes off her clothes, frowning as she asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Wen Yifan's voice trembled uncontrollably, but she wasn't angry as she looked at the waiter. "No need to keep apologizing, just be more careful next time."
Then she turned to Zhong Siqiao and said, "I'll go to the restroom to clean up."
As she spoke, she slightly raised her eyelids.
Unexpectedly, she met a gaze—deep, indifferent, and inscrutable.
It lingered for two seconds.
Wen Yifan averted her eyes and headed toward the women's restroom.
Finding a stall, she took off her sweater, leaving only a fitted undershirt.
Fortunately, the sweater had acted as a barrier, so she wasn't too wet.
Carrying the sweater, she walked to the sink, dampened a tissue with water, and did her best to wipe off the spilled drink.
After roughly cleaning up, she stepped out.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone standing in the hallway. Wen Yifan instinctively looked over and paused mid-step.
The man leaned casually against the wall, a cigarette between his lips, his eyelids drooping lazily, his expression relaxed and indifferent. Unlike before, he had taken off his jacket, holding it loosely in his hand.
Now he wore only a black T-shirt.
It had been six years since their last meeting.
Unsure if he recognized her, Wen Yifan didn’t know whether to greet him. After hesitating for less than a second, she lowered her gaze and decided to pretend she hadn’t recognized him either, forcing herself to keep walking.
The dim, minimalist decor, with irregular streaks on the marble tiles reflecting the light, stretched outward. The faint voice of a female singer could still be heard, soft and lingering.
Closer and closer.
About to pass by him.
At that moment.
"Hey." His voice drifted out, sounding lazy.
Wen Yifan stopped and was about to look over.
Without warning, Sang Yan abruptly tossed his jacket over her head, blocking most of her vision. Wen Yifan froze for a moment before quickly pulling it off, confused.
Sang Yan still hadn’t looked up, his lashes lowered as he stubbed out his cigarette in the nearby trash can.
Neither of them spoke first.
It felt like a long time, but in reality, only a few seconds passed. Sang Yan slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, his expression aloof.
"Let’s talk," he said.
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