Zhang Yue was an office worker as ordinary as they come.
She had studied design in college. Before graduation, she was full of ambition, swearing she would carve out a name for herself in the advertising world.
She believed that with her talent and unique aesthetic sense, she would surely spark a disruptive revolution in the industry.
Less than a year into her career, she changed her wish to: "Work hard to complete projects, show the company my value, and get promoted with a raise to reach the pinnacle of life."
Two years in, her wish changed again: "Stay far away from moronic clients, moronic bosses, and brain-dead colleagues."
This was her third year.
Now, every day when Zhang Yue opened her eyes, her only wish was simply to stay alive.
It was now approaching midnight. The office was empty, save for her computer, which was still humming away.
Her colleagues had long since gone home. Only she remained, pulling an all-nighter to coordinate with a particularly difficult client.
She had sent over several versions of the proposal, but the client wasn't satisfied with any of them and kept demanding revisions.
Zhang Yue looked up, and the mirror on her desk reflected a haggard face.
Her long hair, pulled back by a headband, was noticeably greasy. She wasn't wearing a lick of makeup, having only hastily applied some moisturizer.
Beneath her heavy eye bags and dark circles was sallow skin dotted with a few acne scars caused by hormonal imbalances.
Office workers always had their little tricks—like only washing their bangs, dabbing on some setting powder if their hair got oily, or drinking bitter melon water when they broke out...
Having worked for three years, Zhang Yue deeply understood that these little gimmicks could sometimes be life-savers.
After waiting for a long time, the client still refused to budge, insisting that she revise the design yet again.
It looked like she was stuck here for the night.
Fortunately, she had ordered takeout in advance.
Zhang Yue let out a frustrated sigh.
Lately, almost no one in the company stayed late to work overtime.
A while back, there were rumors of a ghost in the office, causing widespread panic. Manager Huang had even brought in a master to perform a ritual.
In the end, no ghost was caught, and the event nearly caused a stampede.
Manager Huang was singled out and fired by the higher-ups, and the company issued a notice prohibiting employees from engaging in feudal superstition within the workplace.
Zhang Yue had never believed in ghosts or spirits.
Ding—
The client seemed to have hesitated for a long time before sending a new message, finally making a decision:
They wanted the first version of the design after all.
Blood rushed to Zhang Yue's head, and she nearly fainted on the spot.
Working in the service industry meant constantly encountering all sorts of bizarre clients.
There were the stingy ones who wanted design work for free without paying a cent.
There were those who loved to patronize with a "father-knows-best" attitude, wanting everyone to kiss their feet.
And then there were the ones who pretended to be experts, insisting she design an oval that was ten centimeters long and ten centimeters high.
Yes.
An oval. Ten centimeters long, ten centimeters high.
When Zhang Yue first heard that request, she could barely maintain her professional smile.
If she could draw an oval with equal length and height, she would have won the Nobel Prize in Mathematics by now!
What? You say there is no Nobel Prize for math?
If she could draw an oval that broke the very limits of mathematics, why wouldn't she be allowed to establish her own prize?
The moment she saw the client's message, Zhang Yue truly wanted to send back a middle finger emoji.
Reason called to her, and she barely managed to restrain herself.
The office, which was bustling during the day, was now inhabited by her alone.
A faint sense of unease began to stir in her heart.
On her colleagues' desks, piles of documents were scattered haphazardly, and jackets draped over chairs looked wrinkled and limp.
Slippers hidden under desks were tossed aside, and open snack bags gaped wide like croaking frogs.
The water dispenser's light was on, its tank covered in condensation. The green glow of the emergency exit sign cast a slanted light across the floor.
Zhang Yue could even hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, the second hand moving bit by bit.
The sound of her typing on the keyboard felt exceptionally jarring in the silence.
Everything looked the same as usual.
But it was too quiet.
So quiet it made her skin crawl.
It was like the fear many people felt in classrooms, hospitals, or dorms at night, or in empty parks and amusement parks.
Without the bustle of the day, these places became terrifying once they fell silent.
This was because, in human perception, these places were supposed to be "lively," "crowded," and "noisy."
When a large number of one's own kind disappears, the brain sends out a warning, perceiving danger. It secretes hormones that generate fear, urging the body to leave as quickly as possible.
It was the same reason why, as night fell, humans subconsciously wanted to return to the safety and comfort of their homes.
These were instincts buried deep within their genes.
"Why hasn't my food arrived yet? It's almost overdue. My address is correct; surely the rider hasn't gotten lost?"
The air conditioning was making Zhang Yue's neck ache, so she rubbed her shoulders.
Her workstation was near the window. Sometimes when she worked late, she could see the city lights sparkling like a sea of stars from this vantage point.
Through the reflection in the window, she suddenly glimpsed someone standing in the manager's office.
The person was wearing grey overalls and had a somewhat pudgy build. They were pressed flat against the glass, waving in her direction.
"Manager Huang? You haven't left yet?"
Zhang Yue jumped in surprise. Then she turned around and complained with a hint of annoyance:
"...It's the middle of the night. Don't you know you can scare someone to death? Why didn't you say anything? You gave me a heart attack."
The figure didn't respond. It just stood there stiffly. The silhouette against the frosted glass was a solid, dark mass.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock on the wall continued its steady beat, but the figure showed no reaction.
It just stood there, staring blankly, motionless.
He's probably in a bad mood because he was fired, she thought.
Zhang Yue could sympathize with that.
However, she didn't want to meddle. She stood up and walked toward the front desk, intending to see if her takeout had arrived.
The receptionist had long since clocked out. The company's glass doors were slightly ajar, and only the humming of the elevator kept Zhang Yue company.
The elevator lobby was as bright as day. Two money trees, recently replaced, stood by the entrance.
The previous money trees had died completely, so the company had swapped them for two new ones.
No one knew who it was, but someone kept throwing dead sparrows into the pots every day, making the entire stairwell reek. Eventually, the plants had been killed off too.
People in the office said it was the work of a ghost.
Zhang Yue suspected it was more likely a colleague who was secretly dissatisfied with the company.
She glanced over and frowned in disgust.
There were dead sparrows in the flowerpots again.
These tiny, delicate birds had their necks snapped by someone and were tossed into the pots.
A few of the birds had already begun to rot. Beneath their greyish-brown feathers, white maggots were crawling.
They were still wriggling.
"How disgusting. You'd have to be a real pervert to do something like this."
Zhang Yue opened her delivery app and saw that the rider's GPS location was very close to her, but it hadn't moved in a while.
"Strange... he's over twenty minutes late. What is this delivery guy doing?"
"Didn't I tell him to come through the parking lot so the security guards wouldn't stop him?"
For some reason, Zhang Yue instinctively looked back toward her workstation.
A grey figure was reflected in the glass, waving at her.
But the manager's office was empty. Forget a person, there wasn't even a shadow in there.
That figure...
It wasn't standing inside the office at all.
It was outside the window.
Waving at Zhang Yue through a single pane of glass.
Rate on N.U.
