Don't Get on the No. 4 Last Bus

People talk about ghosts at midnight, and ghosts talk about people in the dead of night.

The number 4 sounds similar to the word for death, so some older people consider it unlucky and avoid it like the plague.

My mom was one of those people. Growing up, I wasn't allowed to have anything associated with the number 4. I couldn't even take a bus with a 4 in its route number to school.

Today, I'm going to tell you a supernatural story involving the number 4.

My name is Guo Heng. I graduated not long ago and recently moved to Tianhai City. Like most graduates, I started looking for a job as soon as I finished school.

But this year, the industry related to my major was in a slump, so finding a job was even harder than in previous years.

To find work as quickly as possible, I searched all over Tianhai City.

Then one evening, I came out of a job interview, and it was already late.

I went to a bus stop near the company. Beneath the dim streetlights, I waited alone for the last bus on that route.

The company was in a remote area, with hardly anyone around, so I was the only person at the bus stop.

Behind the stop lay a wasteland overgrown with weeds that reached a person's waist. At night, all kinds of noises came from the grass.

The unknown was humanity's greatest fear. I stared at the dark wasteland and couldn't help feeling spooked. I kept praying for the last bus to hurry up.

After a long while, I saw a flash of light at the intersection in the distance. The last bus had finally arrived.

Strangely enough, my mom had forbidden me to ride any bus with a 4 in its route number since I was little. But tonight, the bus that pulled up was No. 444.

But I was a college graduate with sixteen years of education behind me. I didn't believe in superstitions like 4 being a harbinger of death, so I climbed aboard without hesitation.

Since it was the last bus, there was no one else aboard except the driver and me.

It was my first time having a million-yuan "luxury car" all to myself. Honestly, it felt pretty nice.

At first, I checked the bus route. The surroundings were all places I'd seen on my way there that afternoon.

Once I'd put my mind at ease, I started getting drowsy. I hadn't eaten dinner, and hunger made me sleepy, so I drifted off without realizing it.

When I woke up, I only knew that my neck was terribly sore and my whole body was cold. The driver must have cranked the air conditioning way too low.

I looked up, but there was no air vent above me.

How strange. Then why was it so cold?

I looked around and only then noticed that quite a few people had somehow gotten on the bus.

There was an old man and a child, both soaked to the skin; a young couple clinging to each other; and a middle-aged construction worker covered in dirt.

There was also a mother with disheveled hair, wearing a red dress and holding a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Although the bus wasn't empty, it was eerily quiet. All I could hear was the engine rumbling.

I looked out the window. The road was deserted, with no other vehicles or pedestrians in sight.

If there hadn't still been buildings on either side of the road, I would've wondered if I'd gotten on a ghost bus. That was how these stories usually went, after all.

A few minutes later, the bus stopped at a bus stop. An old man with a face weathered by time climbed aboard, holding a rolled-up newspaper. Then he sat down beside me.

Once the bus started moving again, the old man unfolded his newspaper and began reading it beside me.

Seeing how absorbed he was, I grew curious. Technology was so advanced these days—who still read newspapers?

I pretended to sit up straight and lean back, then glanced at the newspaper in his hands.

"Life Evening News."

That was the headline. I read on, and the paper was full of stories I'd never heard of.

"Brat beats elderly scrap collector in the street. While trying to get away from the child, the old man and the child both fell into a river and drowned. The old man's family has taken the child's family to court."

"A fire broke out in a rental apartment in Tianhai City, killing two people. Investigators identified the dead as a married couple. They were found embracing, and their bodies could not be separated."

"An elderly construction worker fell into a pile of sand while working at a construction site at night. He was found the next day, by which time he was confirmed dead."

"City police crack largest child-trafficking case on record, dismantling one child-trafficking organization. During the raid, Sister Hong (an alias) escaped with an infant. She was found in a field the next day.

"According to the autopsy report, Sister Hong died of poisoning after being bitten by a venomous snake while fleeing. When the infant in her arms was found, it had already..."

As I read this, the old man sitting beside me seemed to notice that I was looking, and he suddenly raised his head to stare at me.

Maybe it was the backlighting, but his eye sockets seemed pitch-black, as if there were no eyes inside them.

The thought made me laugh. If a living person didn't have eyes, how could he still read a newspaper?

Awkwardly scratching my head, I turned to look at the driver.

Suddenly, I felt something land on my thigh. I looked down. It seemed to be a plump, white maggot.

Where did that come from?

I looked up instinctively. The dim streetlights swept across the old man's face, and I could clearly see maggots crawling all over his eye sockets.

I froze for a moment, then screamed. Trembling all over, I ran to the woman in red, pointed at the old man, and shouted to the passengers that he wasn't human.

The other passengers seemed to be frightened by me. One after another, they stood up.

Just then, a strong stench wafted over from beside me. It smelled a little like a dead rat, but not quite.

I turned to look at the woman beside me. She had raised her head. Her hair had fallen away to either side, revealing her purplish-black lips and deathly pale face.

My mind buzzed. I suddenly remembered Sister Hong in the newspaper, who had died from snake venom. Cold sweat ran down my forehead.

I stole a glance at the baby in her arms. Its face was bluish-purple, and it looked long dead.

The stench of dead rats grew stronger. At some point, the passengers had surrounded me.

The old man and child dripped water from their soaked clothes. The couple clung to each other, their faces mangled. Sand poured from the construction worker's ears, nose, and mouth.

Every one of them matched a story in the newspaper. I really had gotten on a ghost bus.

That was where the story ended. Shi Yimin was sitting on a little stool, waiting for his barbecue to arrive. Curious, he scrolled down to see if there was more.

After scrolling past an ad, he found the first comment the original poster had left.

"My name is Guo Heng. With evil spirits surrounding me, how will I survive? Send me fifty yuan and I'll post the rest right away."

"Damn, what a scam!" Shi Yimin couldn't help cursing.