The stinking batter was mixed with rotten fruit. The cake in A Fang's hands looked utterly unappetizing, yet he treated it like a treasure, carrying it carefully over to the coffee table.
When he peeled back the plastic wrap, the smells of formalin and cleaning solution flooded his nostrils. A Fang placed a lit candle beside the cake.
"This is my first birthday, and the first time anyone has made me a cake." A Fang pressed his palms together, imitating the birthday celebrations he had seen on television. His expression was so earnest it bordered on reverence. "Mom, I know you've always been here with me. Could you sit beside me?"
Nails scratched against glass. The old ceiling fan creaked as it turned overhead, and tiny insects scattered through the gaps between the floor tiles. It was as though some force was squeezing room 1601.
The owner of the haunted apartment had heard A Fang's wish, but she was unwilling to let him see what she looked like.
The candle flame flickered unsteadily. Its pale yellow glow gradually turned red, and as wisps of black smoke rose, the flame became completely blood-red.
Mottled light and shadows swayed across the walls. Blood seeped from the mirror, and two hands covered in knife scars emerged from the darkness.
Her face hidden behind black hair, a woman dressed in bright red stood at the door.
She instinctively blocked the doorway, seemingly afraid that her child would leave and she would lose something precious again.
Yet the strange disturbances throughout the room also revealed how conflicted she was. She did not want to part with A Fang, but she was afraid of hurting him.
"That's right, you're my mom! My mom always wore red! Red clothes were her favorite!" Without seeing the woman's face,