The Source of the Fading Echo

I rented the haunted house at 402 Yong’an Alley. Zhao Er from 401 across the hall warmly brought me dumplings. >Everyone said Zhao Er was a good person, but I saw the words in the notebook: He died five years ago. >At midnight, the last No. 11 bus stopped outside my window. The driver covered the rearview mirror. >I got on and felt a bloodstained ticket. >A voice whispered in my ear: “You smell like a lamp.” >When the lamp lights up, dawn will come. This isn’t a ghost story. Millions of unfulfilled obsessions are waiting for an answer.