Shen Yao opened his browser, entered the Berlin Forum from his favorites, and searched for “Phone Ghost in Yaoguang City,” only to discover that the Consigner’s post had already been deleted by a Moderator.
“This post was deleted for violating forum rules. Operator: Moderator. If you have any objections, please click here to appeal.”
Deleted by a Berlin Forum Administrator?
A thought flickered in his mind—could this prove his suspicion was correct?
Was the Consigner the anomaly itself, and the post merely a medium for spreading fear?
That would explain why the forum Administrator deleted it to curb the anomaly’s spread.
If so, why was the anomaly’s nickname “Consigner”? Just what did it want to consign?
Anomalies were born from intense emotions. What emotion did this one wish to convey?
He continued searching for posts about the Phone Ghost, but found that all related threads had already been deleted by the Moderator.
Did that mean everyone who previously claimed to have seen the Phone Ghost was just an anomaly in disguise?
A chill crept down Shen Yao’s back as he realized anomalies were not just simple supernatural phenomena—they possessed intelligence, they could think, lurking like lone wolves in the darkness, cunningly watching their prey.
He turned to look at the Pink Landline Phone.
Could such a simple, crude plan really catch an anomaly? Would things really develop as he and Qiao Yunxue expected?
“Hey, Qiao Yunxue, are you listening?”
“What?” He heard Qiao Yunxue yawn.
“I don’t think our plan is thorough enough.”
“At this point, you’re not chickening out, are you?”
“I just think things aren’t that simple. We know too little about the anomaly.”
Qiao Yunxue flatly refused: “This is my one and only chance to get close to the anomaly. If I miss today, who knows how many more sets of seven years I’ll have to wait.”
Such a selfish woman, never considering others’ safety, Shen Yao thought.
Ka-da, ka-da.
The ticking of the mechanical watch sounded especially loud in the silent study.
It was now 11:49 p.m., only eleven minutes away from midnight.
Shen Yao gripped the Amulet tightly in his hand.
He’d bought this Amulet from a Fortune Teller on the street for five yuan.
He knew it was useless, but only by clutching onto something could he feel at ease.
Most of the world’s evil and sinister folklore takes place at midnight.
At this time of night, it seems as though conspiracies and demons always walk hand in hand.
As the saying goes, “It’s a night of murder when the moon is dark and the wind is high.”
Tonight, someone was meant to die.
His palm sweated, soaking the Amulet, the lacquer peeling and staining his hand red, looking like a Blood Hand.
Shen Yao regretted not bringing the Snow Globe with him.
By the way, what was Chengcheng doing now?
Lately, in order to avoid dragging her into these unusual events, he’d been distant.
He hoped Chengcheng wouldn’t be angry.
Men really are a rotten species. He used to always think about Qiao Yunxue, but now that they were truly “accomplices,” his mind instead drifted to his childhood friend.
His thoughts became more and more scattered, drifting from his relationships with Chengcheng and Qiao Yunxue, to the college he wanted to attend, then to the mysteries of the universe.
“Shen Yao, it’s time. We’re ready on our end.”
Qiao Yunxue’s serious voice came through his earpiece.
Shen Yao looked out the window. Night was pitch-black, the streets silent, only now and then a sudden engine’s roar tearing through, then vanishing like a smothered spark.
Teacher Ma, who taught him politics, had said that was the sound of little punks’ modified motorcycles—they wouldn’t dare ride by day, so they sped through the night under cover of darkness.
This feeling was familiar, as if he’d seen or heard it somewhere before, but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t remember.
He walked to the pink landline and picked up the receiver, slowly dialing the number.
He dialed so slowly, as if each movement of his finger took all his strength.
The busy tone from the other end sounded like a string of death knells, each beep making his goosebumps rise a little more.
“Hello.”
As expected, the call was answered again.
Qiao Yunxue was right—he possessed inspiration, that thing she desperately craved but he himself utterly loathed.
“Are you at home?” The man on the other end asked, like a tireless robot, always starting the conversation with the same question.
His voice was magnetic and deep, just like the male anchors on the news.
Shen Yao remembered—the murdered girl had also been studying broadcasting.
Was there a connection between the two?
Qiao Yunxue heard the voice through the earpiece, and sucked in a breath, holding it, waiting with the anomaly on the other end for Shen Yao’s reply.
This time, Shen Yao refrained from asking any unnecessary, pointless questions like “Who are you?” or “What do you want?”
The fewer of those, the better. Whether the person on the other end was human or ghost, his goal today was to catch it.
“I’m at home.” His voice trembled slightly. The first time he’d encountered the anomaly unprepared, he hadn’t felt afraid—maybe that was the courage of ignorance.
But now, he couldn’t help the quiver in his voice. What was he thinking at this moment?
Maybe about the empty phone in fifteen minutes, or about his aunt returning to solitude, or about Chengcheng’s utter disappointment, or Qiao Yunxue’s deep regret?
“Where is your home?” The man pressed on.
“Huasheng,” Shen Yao replied, glancing down at his watch, his pupils contracting slightly.
Time… was starting to distort.
The second hand now ticked faster, now slower, moving far beyond the bounds of “normal.”
He tried to listen for Qiao Yunxue’s voice in his earphones, but her voice too began to stutter, like a tape being chewed up in a recorder.
“Shen… can you hear me… you… answer…”
Shen Yao held his breath, tapping his fingernails gently against the earpiece as a substitute reply.
“Where in Huasheng?” the man asked.
Shen Yao looked up at the window. The once-bright moon had quietly dimmed, clouds from nowhere gathering to shroud it. He understood—not only was time being twisted, even space itself was warped.
He put down the phone and tried to open the study door, only to find it had been locked from the outside at some point—no matter how he turned the handle, it wouldn’t open.
The man on the phone grew irritable from waiting: “I asked you, where in Huasheng?!”
Shen Yao banged hard on the door, but there was no response from outside. Impossible—if the housekeeper heard him knocking, she wouldn’t ignore it.
He picked up the receiver again: “Yaoguang City, Huasheng.”
That strange man, like a beast being fed, suddenly calmed down from his agitation: “I’m already in Yaoguang City. And? Where are you?”
Shen Yao stared fixedly at the stopwatch.
One, two… nine, ten.
“I’m asking you, where are you?!” The man suddenly flared up again, as if he were a lunatic with a hair-trigger temper.
Ten seconds.
The anomaly could only tolerate a ten-second gap between answers. He just had to keep answering at a ten-second rhythm.
“I’m in the Western Suburb,” Shen Yao answered.
At the same time, Qiao Yunxue’s voice in the earpiece became clear again: “Shen Yao, I can barely hear you…”
So that’s it. Only by answering the anomaly’s questions would time flow normally?
He gave a few rhythmic coughs—the safety signal he and Qiao Yunxue had agreed on.
Qiao Yunxue breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, “The first team is already set up in the Western Suburb.”
Just after Shen Yao dialed the call, there was a brief stretch where only harsh static filled her earpiece, like a monster screaming.
For a moment, she’d actually worried about Shen Yao’s safety.
Even though, seven years ago, she’d decided to be a ruthless and unfeeling person.