Opening my eyes to see a ghost

Zhang Ye gave a resigned smile and said it didn't matter, that perhaps he had sown some seed in his past life and was now reaping its fruit, and maybe this was just fate.

At that moment, I felt a profound sense of helplessness; if I had the abilities of a master, I could surely save him. Alas, I didn't possess such skills.

Half an hour is fleeting, and under the warden's urging, I left cell 107.

I spent the afternoon labor immersed in thoughts about the woman in red, distracted, leading to frequent mistakes, and inflicted several cuts on myself without even realizing it.

After dinner, I lied on my bed, devoid of any mood for idle chat, just listening to the others chatting sporadically.

"Hey, did you hear that our Dormitory Head moved into cell 107, the haunted cell?"

"I was wondering why I hadn't seen him all day. Why did he go there? Did he offend someone?"

"Do you think ghosts really exist in this world? It sounds pretty scary to hear about it."

"Who knows, I've never seen one anyway."

Hearing this, I was somewhat surprised. Didn't they all see the woman in red that night? And they were so scared that they were curled up in a corner. Why would they still question whether ghosts exist in this world?

I couldn't help but interject, asking if they saw anything that night. The unanimous response was that nothing happened that night.

I felt bewildered. Why did everyone deny anything happened as if their memories had been erased?

I don't know when, but I eventually fell asleep.

I had a dream where Zhang Ye, his face smeared with blood, was choking me and questioning me over and over why I didn't save him, and I was unable to make even the slightest noise, no matter how hard I tried.

Just as I was about to suffocate, I suddenly awoke, wiping the cold sweat from my face and sitting up. Thinking back on that moment, I was still frightened. What did this dream mean? Could it be that Zhang Ye had met with an accident?

The moment the warden opened the cell door, I rushed out, heading straight for cell 107.

I pounded on the cell door, and Zhang Ye on the bed seemed to stir a little. His blanket slowly pulled back to reveal a face from underneath, but god, that wasn't Zhang Ye's face—it was a rag doll's face, grinning with its mouth open, and its eyes blinking.

Suddenly, the rag doll's face slowly split open, grinning at me.

All I could think was that Zhang Ye's prospects looked grim.

I wished it was just a dream. I pounded on the cell door and shouted Zhang Ye's name, but overwhelmed with panic, I finally passed out.

...

When I woke up, I found myself lying on a soft bed with a soft pillow, warm blankets, and the whitest bedsheet I had ever seen in my life.

I saw an IV bottle on the stand beside the bed, with liquid dripping down a thin tube.

The warden, seeing I was awake, asked me with concern if I was feeling better.

I nodded to indicate I was okay, but suddenly I remembered Zhang Ye and eagerly asked the warden about his condition.

The warden was puzzled and asked which Zhang Ye I meant. I said the Dormitory Head who moved to 107. The warden chuckled and said there was no one named Zhang Ye at the juvenile detention center and suggested that I was hallucinating due to the shock from Old Liu's incident.

I couldn't argue. When I asked why I was in the hospital, the warden explained that I had been assigned a cell at the detention center, but when I reached the door of cell 107, I suddenly rushed at it, pounding and shouting, before passing out. He also told me the case of Old Liu had been closed, attributing it to wild animals, and that I was free now and could go home once I recovered.

After chatting with me for about ten minutes, the warden called for a doctor to give me a thorough checkup.

I was curious about the doctor in the white coat. Why was everything in the hospital white? It's inauspicious. In the village, white mourning attire was only worn when there was a death.

The doctor checked my eyes, asked me to stick out my tongue, and then pressed a strange device against my chest, which was cold; later, I found out it was called a stethoscope.

After the examination, the doctor spoke with the warden, and I just happened to overhear their conversation.

The doctor said I suffered from delusional disorder due to extreme mental tension and needed rest. The current prognosis was very optimistic; as long as I wasn't stimulated again, I could be discharged in a week at most.

He also mentioned that delusional disorder wasn't really a sickness, as people with this condition often fantasize due to certain events or scenes.

Patients with delusional disorder either are overwhelmed by life's pressures and choose to escape reality, or they have experienced a severe fright—I likely belonged to the latter category, though I wasn't sure what had shocked me, maybe it related to Old Liu.

The warden handed me a peeled apple and inquired about my family. When he found out my master was a Yin Yang Master, he smiled and said his grandfather was also a famous Yin Yang Master, a very powerful one.

He said he believed in ghosts and spirits, perhaps influenced by his grandfather, but his ambition was to become a people's police officer, and so he didn't continue his grandfather's legacy. He believed in delivering justice and accumulating merit; it was just a different approach.

The warden instructed me to recuperate in peace and not to dwell on wild thoughts. He said that the detention center had covered the medical expenses, promised that in a week's time he would arrange a car to take me home and help me clear things up.

After the warden left, I was alone in the big sickroom. People often let their imagination run wild when bored, and I was one of them.

The incident with the woman in red was vivid in my memory. Why were they calling it my hallucination and saying I had delusional disorder? Was I really sick?

My gaze shifted to the window. Looking through, I thought I saw a ghastly, pale face...

I rubbed my eyes and looked again; there was nothing there, only the moon hanging in the sky.

Well, it looks like I'm really ill. Maybe it's time to relax.

Swish... swish...

The sound of a broom sweeping the floor interrupted my thoughts.

I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was exactly midnight...