With one deposit and one payment, 3600, I moved into the fourth floor of this old building.
The agent stuffed the key under the doormat, signed the contract outside the building, and left faster than when he came.
On the first night, I heard everyone in the building closing the door at the same second.
The second night, there was a knock on my door, and black water seeped under the crack in the door.
On the third night, the man upstairs counted to "ten".
On the fourth night, Lao Chen on the third floor died.
He stood there for ten years without missing a single night.
I dug out the contract and Article 7 said: No unauthorized move.
Those two words on the signature line were not signed by me.
Manniang stood outside my door holding a bowl of soup, her porcelain spoon gently touching the edge of the bowl.
"Are you still standing tonight?"
I pressed against the wall and didn't dare to make a sound.
Later I realized - in this building, you will die if you don't stand.
If you want to leave, you will die.
