One hundred and twenty-seven meters beneath the Yellow River in the Sanmenxia section lies an eighteenth level.
My grandfather spent his whole life guarding the sluice. Three years ago, he went down to inspect it and never came back up.
My father took his place. On the same day three years ago, he too vanished behind that iron door.
The sluice keepers have passed down three rules for three generations. I’ve known them by heart since childhood.
First, go down to inspect the sluice at three every morning and be back up before four.
Second, you may look through each iron door, but you must never open it. If you hear someone inside calling your name, do not answer.
Third, never touch the door at the very bottom of the eighteenth level.
I followed the rules dutifully for three years, never daring to take more than a passing glance at what lay beneath the well.
Until one early morning, I heard my grandfather’s voice coming from behind the lowest door.
He was calling my name.
Again and again, clear as day.
I broke the rules and opened the door.
Only then did I learn that the eighteenth level concealed something far more terrifying than death.
