Chapter Eleven: Drowning in a Dream

Leaving Big Ox in the dormitory to care for the emotionally unstable Gouzi, Fu Yang and Old Zhao headed out.

Old Zhao wore a worried expression. “Xiao Fu, I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something strange about Gouzi’s girlfriend…”

“Whatever! Let’s just investigate first. At the very least, we need to figure out exactly how Dudu died!”

Fu Yang thought to himself that he’d encountered more than his share of demons and ghosts lately—he even lived with one at home. What was one more…?

Things went rather smoothly. Through a junior of his, Old Zhao managed to find the Taiwanese girl, Tingting, who had shared a room the previous night with Gouzi’s girlfriend.

There had been a death, and she was the primary witness, so her return flight to Taiwan had to be postponed. She adamantly refused to stay at the campus hotel again, so the university arranged a room for her in the faculty dormitory, assigning a young female counselor to stay with her.

“Room 301. This is the place, right?” Fu Yang and Old Zhao entered the faculty dorm, stopping at the door number they’d gotten from the junior’s girlfriend.

“Knock, then.”

Thump, thump, thump.

Old Zhao raised his hand to knock, politely calling out, “Excuse me, is anyone there?”

Creak.

The door opened a crack, and a delicate, pretty face appeared.

Well, well, the counselor was quite the beauty.

“Excuse me, who are you looking for?” The counselor’s voice was sweet, reminiscent of an anime girl straight out of a manga (kids, don’t ask what kind).

Fu Yang quickly gestured with the fruit basket he’d brought. “Um, we’re students from the School of Media, here to visit Tingting from Taiwan.”

“Oh, please, come in!” The counselor opened the door and skipped inside. “Tingting, you have visitors!”

Fu Yang and Old Zhao exchanged glances, both surprised by how lively the counselor was. She looked quite young, too.

Of course, that was common—many college graduates stayed on as counselors for their first job. If this girl had just become a counselor, she couldn’t be more than two or three years older than Fu Yang and Old Zhao.

They entered the room.

Anime posters covered the walls—Gintama, One Piece, Naruto… The desk was full of figurines, adorably arranged. The place looked like an anime expo.

Old Zhao nudged Fu Yang. “Wow, the counselor’s a total anime girl!”

Fu Yang shot him a fierce glare. “Focus on the task at hand! And don’t tell me you’re thinking about hitting on the counselor?”

Old Zhao gave a sheepish laugh.

Just then, they noticed a tall girl sitting on the sofa, watching TV. Hearing the counselor call her, she turned to look at Fu Yang and Old Zhao, her expression wary. “I don’t know you. If you’re after details about last night, ask the police. I’ve told them everything I know…”

At the mention of “last night,” fear flickered across her face, as if she didn’t want to remember.

Fu Yang and Old Zhao were not so easily discouraged.

They sat down, set the fruit on the table, and explained the situation with sincere earnestness—especially describing Gouzi’s current state. They put their media school skills of storytelling to full use, so much so that the anime-girl counselor, whose name Fu Yang now knew was Luo Tianyi, was wiping tears from her eyes. Her name was just a character away from that of a famous virtual idol.

“It’s so moving! Who would have thought Gouzi had such deep feelings for poor Dudu. Tingting, why don’t you tell them what you saw last night?”

Tingting had no choice but to nod in agreement and began her account. “Last night, our party didn’t end until after eleven…”

Because of their similar age and shared interests, Tingting and Dudu had become close friends in just a week. After the party, neither went straight to sleep; they lay on their beds, chatting.

It wasn’t until the wall clock struck midnight that they exchanged goodnights and settled down to sleep.

It was late September, and Jiangcheng, in the south, was still warm. But Tingting felt an inexplicable chill.

By the middle of the night, the room was as cold as the dead of winter. She drifted awake from the cold, grabbed the quilt at her feet, and wrapped herself up tightly before drifting back to sleep.

Around five in the morning, a strange noise roused her from her dreams.

At first, she thought Dudu had gotten up to use the bathroom. But then she noticed something wasn’t right.

There were low, rapid breaths, accompanied by violent twisting and struggling…

What was going on?!

Fully awake now, she peered into the darkness. Something was wrong with Dudu on the next bed.

“Dudu, are you okay? Don’t you feel well?” Tingting asked tentatively, but there was no response. The noises from the next bed only grew louder in the darkness.

She grew frightened and reached for the bedside lamp.

Click.

She pressed the switch, but the lamp didn’t turn on. The room remained pitch black.

Tingting panicked.

She fumbled for the bedside drawer and pulled out the emergency flashlight—something standard in any proper hotel.

She turned it on, casting a yellow beam across the floor.

Hurrying to Dudu’s bedside, she shone the flashlight on her friend.

A ghastly, blue-tinged face contorted in terror appeared in the beam!

A scream tore from Tingting’s lips; the sight was so horrifying she nearly dropped the flashlight.

It was Dudu’s face.

Summoning her courage, Tingting illuminated the whole bed. Dudu lay on her back, arms flailing wildly in the air, legs kicking so hard she’d sent the bedding to the floor.

Her eyes were wide open, streaked with blood-red veins; her mouth gaped in a grotesque grimace of agony, her whole expression twisted with pain. The image reminded Tingting irresistibly of a fish thrashing out of water…

This… this was exactly how someone behaves when drowning!

Tingting had been a competitive swimmer in Taiwan, even winning second place in the national collegiate championships. She knew water intimately. The moment she saw Dudu’s condition, she recognized the signs of drowning.

But the problem was… they were inside a room, in bed!

Dudu was lying in bed—how could she possibly display the symptoms of a drowning person?

Tingting was terrified.

But she still tried to help, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Help! Somebody, help!”

Her cries echoed through the silent hotel in the early hours.

But for some reason, even the Taiwanese students in the next room didn’t react. It was as if all sound in the building was sealed away, unable to escape.

“Dudu, wake up! Please wake up!” Tingting clutched her friend’s icy arm, shaking her desperately.

Nothing worked. Dudu remained on the bed, writhing and contorting like a drowning victim, her mouth emitting a ghastly, rasping sound. Her pupils were dilating—she was about to die…

There was no time—she had to get help!

She dialed the bedside phone—busy signal. Tried reception, concierge, room service—none got through.

Utterly bizarre!

Given the urgency, Tingting barely had time to think about the weirdness. She stayed calm, made a snap decision, flung open the door, and ran straight to the front desk to find a staff member.

As soon as she found someone, she raced back to the room with them, calling the campus clinic on the way.

When they returned, the previously unresponsive lights were now shining brightly. But it was too late—Dudu lay dead on the bed, eyes wide and face twisted in terror…

Her body was soaked, as if she’d been hauled out of water, her clothes dripping wet. She was the very picture of a drowning victim. Beneath her, a huge wet patch had soaked through the sheets, source unknown.

What followed was panic—calling the police, alerting university officials, and all the necessary procedures.

The police responded with incredible speed, sealing off the scene within half an hour…

As Tingting finished her story, the entire dormitory fell silent.

Fu Yang, Old Zhao, and Luo Tianyi sat wide-eyed in shock, unable to utter a word. The atmosphere was stifling.

After a long moment, Fu Yang finally exhaled heavily. “So what you’re saying is, Dudu was lying in bed… and drowned in invisible water?”