Various assumptions surfaced at once, but they contradicted one another. Jiang Cheng carefully checked the rest of the room, then carried the pillow and blanket off the bed and spread them on the floor, as far as possible from the iron chair that looked so wrong.
He was worried that he might fall asleep and wake to find someone sitting in the chair.
He sat on the bedding and checked again that the doors and windows were shut. Then he turned on every light and lit two more candles, which put him somewhat at ease.
Even so, he knew that tonight was bound to be anything but peaceful.
Jiang Cheng wasn't the only one being cautious. After making preparations much like his, Wan Ming lay on her bed with her hands and feet tucked beneath the covers, her eyes darting around the room. Coupled with the wind howling outside, it was straight out of a horror movie.
Every light in the room was on, and she'd lit all the candles she could find, arranging them in a circle around the bed. With her lying in the middle, if Jiang Cheng had been there, he would have been happy to point out how familiar the setup looked—like the funeral altar they'd prepared the day his grandmother died.
As time passed, Wan Ming slowly closed her eyes.
Who knew how long it had been when Wan Ming suddenly jolted awake. She realized that the lights in the room had gone out without her noticing, and the candles nearby had all been snuffed out, too. The whole room was plunged into darkness.
But it wasn't completely dark. A faint light filtered through the window, and everything around her seemed shrouded in gray mist. Farther away, indistinct shapes loomed, as if something were hiding