I inherited my great-aunt's old house from the Republic of China, and the antique mirror in the study always flashed images of death.
Every time I see my reflection in the mirror, I see myself being strangled to death.
The old butler said: "This mirror only reflects what it has seen."
I began to look for traces of the existence of another "me" in the house.
Until that night when the power went out, I saw myself in the mirror turning my head:
"Run away, she's right behind you."
I turned around suddenly and saw a pair of eyes exactly like mine.
"I found you," her cold fingers touched my neck, "it's your turn this time."
