Ghost in the Building (1)

Zhang Yue was as ordinary as an office worker could be.

She had studied design in college. Before graduating, Zhang Yue had been full of ambition, swearing to carve out a place for herself in the advertising industry.

She believed that with her talent and distinct aesthetic sensibility, she would surely spark a subversive revolution in the advertising world.

Less than a year into the job, her wish changed to: “Work hard to finish projects, show the company my value, get promoted, get a raise, and reach the pinnacle of life.”

Two years in, her wish shifted again: “Stay far away from dumbass clients, idiot bosses, and brain-dead coworkers.”

This was her third year.

Now, every day when Zhang Yue opened her eyes, her only wish was simply to survive.

It was approaching midnight. The office was completely empty, with only her computer still running.

Her coworkers had gone home long ago; only she had stayed up until now just to deal with a demanding client.

She had sent over several versions of proposals in a row, but the client was dissatisfied with every single one and constantly demanded revisions.

Zhang Yue looked up. The mirror on her desk reflected a haggard face:

Her long hair, pulled back in a headband, looked slightly greasy. Her face was completely bare of makeup, with only a hurried dab of facial lotion applied.

Heavy eye bags, dark blue circles, and sallow skin were dotted with a few acne scars caused by hormonal imbalances.

Corporate drones always had their little survival tricks—like washing only their bangs, dusting greasy roots with translucent powder, and drinking bitter melon water when breaking out...

Having worked for three years, Zhang Yue deeply appreciated how these little hacks could sometimes be total lifesavers.

After a long wait, the client still refused to give in, insisting that she revise it yet again.

Looks like she had no choice but to pull an all-nighter.

Thankfully, she had ordered takeout in advance.

Zhang Yue let out an irritated sigh.

These past two days, barely anyone in the company stayed late.

A while ago, the office had been plagued by supernatural rumors, throwing everyone into a panic. Manager Huang had even brought in a master to perform rituals.

In the end, not only was the ghost not caught, but it had nearly caused a stampede.

Manager Huang was singled out and fired by upper management, and the company issued a notice strictly prohibiting employees from engaging in feudal superstition on office grounds.

Zhang Yue had never believed in ghosts and supernatural nonsense anyway.

The client seemed to have hesitated for a long time before finally sending another message to make a final call:

They wanted the first design after all.

Blood rushed to Zhang Yue’s head, and she almost fainted right then and there.

Working in the service industry meant constantly running into all kinds of bizarre clients.

The ridiculously stingy ones who wanted free design work without paying a dime.

The patronizing mansplainers who loved forcing people to kiss their asses.

And the posers who pretended to know everything, insisting on an oval that was ten centimeters long and ten centimeters high.

Yes.

An oval with a length of ten centimeters and a height of ten centimeters.

When Zhang Yue heard that request back then, she had barely managed to keep a straight face.

If she could draw an oval with identical length and height, she would have already won the Nobel Prize in Mathematics!

What? You say there is no Nobel Prize in Mathematics?

If she could draw an oval that shattered the laws of mathematics, why couldn’t she just establish one herself?

The moment she saw the client’s message, Zhang Yue genuinely wanted to send back a middle-finger meme.

Sanity called her back, and she barely held herself back.

The office, bustling with people during the day, now held only her.

A faint sense of unease crept into her heart.

On her coworkers’ desks, stacks of documents were haphazardly arranged, and coats draped over chairs were crumpled and wrinkled.

Slippers tucked under desks were tossed about messily, and opened snack bags gaped wide like croaking frogs.

The water dispenser’s light glowed as condensation clung to the water jug, and the emergency exit sign cast a faint green light slanting across the floor.

Zhang Yue could even hear the ticking of the wall clock as the second hand moved forward step by step.

The sound of her keyboard clicks seemed exceptionally jarring in this dead quiet.

Everything looked no different from usual.

Yet it was far too quiet.

So quiet it was unnerving.

It was just like how many people feared classrooms, hospitals, and dormitories at night, or empty parks and amusement grounds.

Bereft of daytime bustle, once these places fell silent, they became all the more terrifying.

Because in human perception, these places were supposed to be lively, crowded, and noisy.

When one's peers vanished in droves, the brain sounded an alarm, perceiving danger and secreting fear-inducing hormones to urge the body to leave as soon as possible.

Just like how humans subconsciously wanted to return to the safety and comfort of home when night fell, it was the same principle.

—These were instincts buried deep in human genes.

“Why isn’t the delivery here yet? Isn't it almost overdue? My address is correct, so it's not like the courier got lost, right?”

The air conditioning made Zhang Yue’s neck ache, and she rubbed her shoulder.

Her cubicle was near the window. Whenever she worked overtime late into the night, looking out from this angle allowed her to see a myriad of twinkling city lights, like stars scattered across the sky.

Through the window's reflection, she suddenly caught sight of a person standing inside the manager's office.

Dressed in a grey work uniform and slightly on the heavier side, the figure was pressed stiffly against the glass, waving in her direction.

“!! Manager Huang? You haven't left yet?”

Zhang Yue was startled. Turning around, she complained with a bit of displeasure:

“...It's late at night, don't you know scaring people can literally kill them? Why didn't you make a sound? You scared the life out of me.”

The figure didn't reply, simply standing upright in place, casting a dark silhouette against the frosted glass.

The wall clock ticked, yet the silhouette showed no reaction whatsoever.

It just stood there rigidly, motionless.

He's probably in a bad mood after being fired by the company.

Zhang Yue felt a shred of sympathy.

However, she didn't pry into others' business. Instead, she stood up and walked toward the front desk, planning to check if her takeout had arrived.

The receptionist had clocked out hours ago. The company’s glass doors were half-open, with only the humming vibration of the running elevator keeping Zhang Yue company.

The elevator lobby was brightly lit like daylight, and by the entrance stood two potted money trees that had just been replaced a few days ago.

The previous money trees had died completely, so the company replaced them with two fresh ones.

—Someone had been tossing dead sparrows into the pots every single day, making the entire stairwell reek to high heaven, which eventually killed the money trees as well.

Everyone in the office claimed a ghost did it.

Zhang Yue guessed it was most likely done by some coworker who held a grudge against the company.

She glanced over, furrowing her brows in disgust.

Inside the flowerpot, dead sparrows had appeared once again.

These small, delicate birds had their necks snapped by who knows whom and were discarded in the pots.

Several of the birds had already begun to rot, with white maggots crawling beneath their mottled grey feathers.

They were still writhing.

“So disgusting. How twisted does someone have to be to do something like this?”

Zhang Yue opened the food delivery app and found that the courier's location was very close to her, but hadn't moved at all:

“Weird... It's already over twenty minutes late. What is this delivery guy doing?

Didn't I tell him to come through the parking lot so security wouldn't stop him?”

For some reason, Zhang Yue subconsciously looked back toward her workstation.

A grey figure was reflected in the glass, waving at her.

Yet the manager's office was completely empty—there wasn't a living soul, let alone a ghost in sight.

That shadow...

wasn't standing inside the office at all.

It was outside the window.

Separated only by a pane of glass, waving at Zhang Yue.