The Haunted House

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It sounded like a faucet that hadn’t been fully turned off, or some kind of thick liquid falling from above. She frowned, turned the key, and pushed open the door. Darkness surged toward her like a tide. Feeling around, she pressed the switch on the wall. The dim yellow light barely illuminated the cramped entryway.

“Broken again.” She sighed. The wiring in this old apartment building was badly worn, and the lights were always flickering. She took off her rain-soaked coat and hung it behind the door, then stepped barefoot onto the cold floor.

The dripping grew clearer.

Han Jiayi put down her briefcase and followed the sound to the bathroom. She opened the door. The sink faucet was tightly shut, with no sign of a leak. She looked up at the ceiling. It was dry, without even a water stain.