She Was Supposed to Be Dead

She put the chair away. The footsteps upstairs were chaotic; there seemed to be quite a few people. The garage had no place to hide, so Song Weishi could only stay put, hoping the people upstairs would hurry inside.

A deep voice spoke up. "Easy, easy. Can you have a cleaner come tidy up here? We want to move in right now. And how are the utility rates?"

"Daddy, can we go inside? It's so hot out here."

"Uncle, are Auntie and the others coming too? I'll go pick them up now."

"Sweetie, wait. Daddy needs to rent the place first, then we can go in right away. Be good."

"Electricity runs 80 yuan per kilowatt-hour; water is metered separately. If you want it, put down a 500,000 yuan deposit and we'll settle the remainder later. Rent is month-to-month, with a one-million-yuan security deposit."

The agent's voice was eager. The noise upstairs came to an abrupt halt, as if everyone was stunned by the exorbitant utility rates and rent.

Song Weishi felt the temperature drop just from listening. They called it "chilled to the bone"—this was the real thing.

Eighty yuan for electricity. Even breathing felt like it cost money.

Given how many people were up there, that was probably ten thousand a day. Unless they were rolling in cash, a month of this would bankrupt them.

After a long pause, the voice upstairs resumed. "Fine. We're moving in today. How long until the cleaner gets here?"

The agent nodded eagerly, beaming. "Right away. Cleaning is free of charge. You can move in within about two hours."

The family walked into the lobby; the air conditioner hummed to life. There was a bit of noise, then things settled down again.

People kept coming and going upstairs. Song Weishi was tense at first, but as time passed and no one came down, she relaxed.

She stayed curled up in the garage, lying on the chair, waiting for nightfall. She hadn't even been home yet, but she was already getting a taste of how terrifying prices had become. It felt like the poor could barely afford food, let alone water and electricity.

She lay on the chair and tried to browse her phone, but there was no signal. Even without Wi-Fi, she should at least have had mobile data.

But there was no signal at all. Maybe only the base stations near the river were still functional.

Song Weishi fiddled with it for a while as the sky darkened. Good thing she'd downloaded the full map earlier; future travel would be much easier.

There was a stir upstairs. The cleaner worked fast, and the little girl's aunt and her family had been picked up as well. The households gathered together, lighting only the main hall, all huddled in one room at night to save money.

Song Weishi slipped out of the garage and peeked inside.

The villa was a bit dated, fitted with one-way glass. The families sat together in silence, looking like they'd go broke within a few days.

Times were tough. Even the rich weren't living as easy as people imagined.

Song Weishi crept around the side wall and climbed out of the estate.

She made her way onto the main road to travel by night. The mountains probably weren't safe—otherwise, those people would've come here to escape the heat.

This area was much easier to bear than the outside.

The temperature had dropped significantly at night. Everything was pitch dark, but the moonlight was bright enough, casting a dim glow across the wide road like a faint lamp, illuminating the path ahead.

When it was too dark to see, Song Weishi pulled out a flashlight. She made it through without much trouble—the road conditions were much better than the snow-covered paths she'd been on.

There were hardly any cars out. All night, cicadas and crickets chirped relentlessly, giving her a headache.

Song Weishi hurried toward the original owner's home. The road bike she'd picked up in the tunnel was holding up well. Four hours later, including rest stops along the way, she arrived just before dawn.

She found the apartment without much trouble, since the original owner's shopping app had the home address saved.

The small apartment building in front of her was the family's residence. She looked up at the upper floors. The security booth was useless—the attendant on duty had long since quit due to the heat, and a hiring notice was even pasted up in plain sight. So far, no one had taken the job.

The apartment building was fairly tall and relatively new, with a cream-colored exterior that stood out in the city.

It also had decent security—an electronic card system that only let residents in. Song Weishi found her building, pushed open the lobby door, and walked in.

The hallway smelled terrible. The elevator had long been out of service. She shared an apartment with roommates, and they entered using a shared card, but Song Weishi had long since lost her card. She wasn't sure if she could even get in later.

Honestly, it was just bad luck. A young woman with no money and no experience showed up out of nowhere—if she managed to scrape by these broke days, she'd probably quit that soul-crushing company.

Then she'd find another job and live a normal, stable life.

But fate had other plans. She was one step away from happiness, only to fall straight into hell instead.

Song Weishi ducked past the card reader area. Inside was pitch black. No one was wandering around at this hour; on her way over, she'd barely seen anyone outside.

Apart from a few people cooling off outdoors, she hadn't run into any commuters or anyone else. The city felt dead.

There was no one here either. After checking around, she took the stairwell.

She really needed a place to sleep soundly. Sleeping outside wasn't safe, she couldn't afford a hotel, and she couldn't just pick any random spot—she might accidentally end up inside someone's home again, and she wouldn't be so lucky twice.

Everything considered, this was the only option.

She trudged up to the twelfth floor, panting and trying to catch her breath.

She didn't have the keys on her, so her only hope was that there was a spare hidden somewhere outside.

But after searching around, she found no keys. She even checked the packages on the floor. Oddly, a package that had arrived after she left was already opened. Song Weishi was about to look at it when the noise she'd made apparently startled the two people inside the room.

A gruff voice came from inside. "Who's out there? Scram!"

Song Weishi froze. Were her roommates still here? They hadn't moved out?

She was silently deciding whether to answer when the same voice rang out again. "Who's out there? Scram!"

It sounded strange—the exact same volume, not a single change in tone.

It sounded like it was being played from a phone. And anyway, her roommates should have been girls. The original owner wouldn't share an apartment with a man.

Realizing this, Song Weishi cautiously knocked on the door, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

That same line echoed once more. "Who's out there? Scram!"

Now she was absolutely sure—the people inside were using a recording to scare off intruders.

Song Weishi cleared her throat and spoke up. "I'm back. Open the door."

The nervousness inside instantly turned to panic. The two of them exchanged glances and peered through the peephole.

They saw Song Weishi's face.

"Oh crap—wasn't she supposed to be out in the snow? I heard nobody who went there ever came back!"

The two whispered frantically, terror growing in their eyes. Outside, Song Weishi was growing impatient. She knocked again. "I forgot my key. Let me in."