Nightmare

Buzz.

"Ma'am, would you mind repeating what you just said?"

Buzz.

Buzz.

".I can, but please.please don't tell anyone, especially my husband and my daughter!"

"I understand. Can we begin, then?"

"It all started with a phone call.

My younger sister called me. It was three nights ago.

She was acting very strangely. Her teeth were chattering, and her voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of her throat bit by bit.

I asked if she was feeling unwell. She didn't answer. She just kept repeating a dream she'd been having lately."

"A dream?"

"Yes, a dream.

She said that recently, she often dreamed she woke up in the middle of the night, got out of bed, and walked down the stairs from the attic where she lived, finally stopping in front of the basement door.

It felt so real. Incredibly real. Too real to be a dream."

"But your sister still called it a dream. Why?"

"Because.she didn't even have a basement!

What was even more frightening was that, when she stood in front of that unfamiliar door, she felt an urge to open it."

"What happened?"

"She disappeared that night, the same night she called me."

"So you came to see me today because you want to—"

"Doctor Jiang!"

"Yes? Go ahead."

"I dreamed of a door, too. Just yesterday."

Jiang Cheng switched off the recorder in his hand. Silence settled over the modest room.

He sat behind his desk, eyes lowered. A copy of that day's evening paper from Rong City lay on the desk.

"Missing: Hu Yan, female, 47 years old, 160 centimeters tall, square face, fair complexion. Recently in poor mental health. Left home late on the night of the 13th and went missing. Last seen wearing a light pink silk nightgown. Anyone with information is asked to contact us."

His gaze skipped over the contact information. Slightly to the left of the notice was a photograph of a middle-aged woman.

The same woman who had come to see him yesterday and left a recording.

Jiang Cheng wasn't in the habit of reading the newspaper. The police had brought it over about an hour ago.

Following up on a lead, they'd learned that Hu Yan had been here before she went missing.

He'd truthfully described her state of mind and the story she'd told him.

He'd also handed over the recording he'd made with Hu Yan's permission.

After taking his statement, the two officers, a man and a woman, left with the recording. The female officer, whose hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, couldn't help glancing back at Jiang Cheng several times.

The man, about her age, seemed far too calm, whether answering their questions or recounting that baffling story.

After politely seeing them out, Jiang Cheng returned to his seat.

The crisp sound of keys tapping came and went. Everything continued as usual, in orderly fashion.

Night deepened, and the neon lights in the distance gradually came on.

Jiang Cheng glanced at the time in the lower-right corner of his computer screen, stood up, and walked to the studio entrance. He closed the outer glass door first, then the inner door, and locked them.

After that, he took a moment to make himself a cup of coffee.

Holding the cup, he walked over to the sofa and sat down.

The sofa was there for clients who came to his studio.

Hu Yan, who'd visited yesterday, and the two officers who'd come by not long ago had both sat there.

Jiang Cheng slipped his hand into the gap between the armrest and the sofa cushion and deftly pulled out a voice recorder.

Its indicator light was on. He nudged a button with his index finger, and an officer's voice came from the recorder.

Jiang Cheng listened as he took small sips of coffee.

By the time he'd finished his coffee, the conversation between him and the officer had ended. Even when he got up from the sofa, his expression remained unchanged.

He rinsed the coffee cup with clean water, set it upside down on the drying rack, dried his hands, and headed for his desk.

As he passed the sofa, he picked up the recorder.

Business had been slow lately. The last recording before this one was of a woman named Hu Yan, and Jiang Cheng remembered her well.

Her story was certainly bizarre, but having encountered quite a few patients with mild to moderate delusions, Jiang Cheng was more concerned with how coherent it was.

In his experience, patients usually exaggerated some unusual outcome in hopes of attracting attention, blurring or even leaving out the details. Hu Yan's account, by contrast, was fairly complete, and the details were well handled. In her own dream, she even remembered accidentally stepping on her daughter's plush slippers as she went down the stairs.

The police visit had also given Jiang Cheng some new information.

During their conversation, they'd alluded to suspecting that a relative was involved in Hu Yan's disappearance. In Hu Yan's story, her younger sister had gone missing before her.

Taken together, it seemed likely that Hu Yan's sister really had disappeared.

Then there was the missing-person notice put out by Hu Yan's family. It said she'd left home late at night wearing only her nightgown—a thin silk one at that.

It was late autumn. Based on what he knew of Hu Yan, Jiang Cheng didn't think she was the kind of person who'd do something so foolish.

Considering Hu Yan's bizarre disappearance, along with the fact that her sister had vanished before her, Jiang Cheng felt there was more to this than met the eye.

So.

So.

To save his brainpower for any clients who might come in tomorrow—and to preserve the collagen in his face—Jiang Cheng put on a face mask, then turned in without giving it another thought.

His studio had two floors. The first floor was for meeting clients, and the attic upstairs naturally served as his living space.

It was about thirty square meters, divided into two rooms.

At the top of the narrow stairs was the living room. Further inside was the bedroom.

There was no bed in the bedroom, only a thin mattress laid on the floor.

Jiang Cheng was lying in the very center of it, his blanket pulled up to his chin as he slept with immaculate care.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he suddenly opened his eyes.

He stared straight up at the ceiling. His eyes gradually lost focus, then suddenly narrowed to slits.

His upper body lifted from the mattress, and he slowly sat up.

What was happening?

His thoughts were clear, and he could feel every part of his body responding, yet he couldn't control it.

An unfamiliar, pounding anxiety welled up inside him, as if.something had been opened.

First his left leg moved off the mattress, then his right. He stood up, stiff and mechanical.

While his mind raced for an explanation, his body began moving on its own again.

Forward.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

One step, then another.

Like a walking corpse, he headed for the bedroom door.

Then came the living room.

Finally, he walked down the wooden stairs, one step at a time.

The old stairs, which should have creaked with every step, made no sound at all.

Not just the stairs. Since waking, Jiang Cheng hadn't heard a single sound.

The night was so still, it seemed dead.

His eyes darted within their limited range. There was no doubt about it: the situation was eerie and dangerous.

Through the darkness, the familiar surroundings had turned strange.

As his last foot came down, he saw a door standing in front of him.

A pitch-black door.

A door set into the wall.