Do Not Enter

Ji Xun has been counting the steps for four years. From the first floor to the fifth floor, there are always eighty-six steps. Until that early morning, he counted level 87. There is a door on the extra steps - dark brown, with the words "Do Not Enter" on the door. There is a breathing sound in the crack of the door: eight seconds to inhale, eight seconds to exhale. He called the police. The police pried open the door, revealing a brand new brick wall behind it. From that day on, his shadow began to move on its own, and there was a recording of his breathing that had never been recorded before on his phone. A lame man told him: The world is covered by a layer of "secret agreement", and human beings live in cognitive filters and cannot see the reality. His filter was broken. In order to seal him, his mother locked herself behind the door; in order to find the truth, his father walked into the deeper door and never came back. Now, the door is open again. Someone said in his ear: "You are finally willing to look back at me." Ji Xun stood on the eighty-seventh step holding the knife left by his mother. He doesn't know whether there is truth or a trap behind the door, and he doesn't know how long he can remember the names of the people around him - because the price of using that knife is memory. But that door never waits for an invitation. It's just in every place it shouldn't be, quietly waiting for him to look back.