The rubber casing of the old telephone wire was twisted and peeled back, exposing the metal strands inside. They glinted faintly in the dim light, and for one brief moment, Zhu Jie's blood ran cold. It felt as though shards of ice had formed in her veins.
There was no way to make a call with a severed telephone line. So it was obvious: the person outside was a ghost, and the man answering the phone was a ghost!
And at that very moment, the ghost was standing right outside their door!
Zhu Jie had never thought so clearly. She even suspected it was exactly two in the morning, and that the thing outside was the mental patient from the broadcast.
Noticing Zhu Jie's reaction—and, more importantly, seeing the severed telephone wire she had raised—Tang Qisheng broke out in a cold sweat. They had come so close, just so close... They had once again walked right up to the gates of death.
Perhaps realizing his identity had been exposed, the man outside let out a snickering laugh. His movements grew even more brazen as he pounded hard on the door. "Open up! It's me. I'm the repairman here to fix your wall clock. Hee-hee-hee. I don't just fix clocks, I can fix patients too. I'm a doctor."
"Open up! I'm going to examine you! You're sick, all of you! I'll help you cut off your extra arms and legs!"
The flimsy wooden door boomed under the blows, as if it might collapse at any moment. Tang Qisheng and Zhu Jie braced themselves against it with all their strength.
They knew the man couldn't break in, but under that kind of pressure, doing nothing was impossible—even if it was only a psychological effect.
A moment later, the man stopped pounding. Before