Want to Go Down and Cool Off?

The two inside were scared out of their wits. They scurried back into their room and didn't dare come out—as if shutting the door would keep the outside world at bay.

Ou Yue pulled Mo Xiaojin into the master bedroom and sat her down. The clammy heat in the air made the two, who had been pressed close, instinctively shift apart.

Guilt gnawed at them. They had another reason for not opening the door: while Song Weishi was away, they'd been helping themselves to the electricity and water in her room. It had been comfortable, sure, but the utility bills had spiraled out of control. They'd drained every last cent from Song Weishi's bank account—her card was linked to the utilities—and now she was drowning in debt.

They'd also eaten all the snacks and supplies she'd stocked in her room.

They'd figured Song Weishi was dead. The team-building trip was in a frozen wasteland, and whoever went there never came back. So what did it matter if they used her stuff? But they never imagined the dead could come back to life—and find her way home. If they let her in, everything would be exposed.

Their own situation was hardly rosy either. Next month they faced the risk of having their water and electricity cut off, and they had no solution in sight. Stuck, they could only wait it out.

Looking at the dwindling water and food in the room, they made up their minds: no matter how she got back, they weren't letting her in. Worst case, they'd call the cops. The police were too swamped to bother with petty disputes like this anyway.

Having settled that, they locked themselves in and pretended not to hear whatever was going on outside.

Song Weishi stood at the door, a little frustrated. But there was nothing she could do if they wouldn't open up. The door had an anti-card-skimming outer lock, and she didn't have the right tools to pick it.

Knocking got her nowhere, so she pulled out her phone and tried to catch a signal. Unsurprisingly, even the electricity was out, and the signal was weak. She couldn't reach the landlord or call a locksmith.

After a moment's thought, she climbed out the window, intending to make her way over to the balcony.

It was too hot for them not to have the windows open; they'd suffocate otherwise.

She opened the hallway window and peered down. It was pitch black below, visibility limited to about three meters in front of her.

Song Weishi stepped onto the exterior wall. The ledge was wide, with a ring of rain-guard stones jutting out. Getting up from below wasn't easy, and stepping out onto the flat surface was risky.

But she moved like a cat, nimble and sure-footed, testing each step before committing. Only once she'd confirmed the path was solid did she release her grip.

Not a single light was on in the entire building or the surrounding neighborhood.

Song Weishi was reminded of visiting her grandparents' village as a kid. In the countryside, the nights were just as dark, the moonlight just as bright.

But back then, she hadn't been brave enough to climb walls like this.

Bracing against the wind, she felt her way along to the window. The room inside was pitch dark—the two of them hadn't turned on any lights.

Song Weishi gripped the frame and pressed her face against the glass. If either of them glanced out right now, they'd get the scare of their lives.

Just as she'd expected, the window was wide open.

The two inside were quiet, only a faint sound of water reaching her ears. Curious, she poked her head in to get a better look.

In the darkness, someone shrieked, startling her—but she kept a firm grip on the window frame.

She'd been spotted. She had to get inside fast.

But before she could, two shadows burst out of the room and lunged at her. Ou Yue shoved her hard, the impact rattling the window. Song Weishi's grip held; her body didn't budge.

Seeing that she hadn't been pushed, Mo Xiaojin steeled herself and reached for the foot that was already inside. Song Weishi kicked her square in the face, sending her flying.

They were three roommates, each with their own room, only sharing the common areas.

She could understand them not opening the door, but why shove her?

Song Weishi grabbed the frame and swung herself in. This was the only room with sunlight, and the number on the door matched—this had to be the original owner's room.

She wondered why the two of them had gathered here. Did they think it was cooler together?

Exhaustion hit her like a wave. The moment she stepped inside, the fatigue of days without proper rest came crashing down.

But the two were eyeing her like hawks, with no intention of letting her rest.

Now that they'd confirmed it was really Song Weishi, Ou Yue and Mo Xiaojin's initial fear faded. No matter how she'd gotten back, she needed to leave. Now.

They didn't waste words, silently closing in on her.

Days of scorching heat had left them drenched in sweat. With no jobs, no income, government water and power restrictions, skyrocketing prices, no way home, and no contact with family—they were already on the brink.

Any small trigger could push them to extremes, and that trigger was Song Weishi.

She'd shattered their fragile peace and crushed their last illusions.

Still, Song Weishi decided to give them one chance. "Leave now, and I'll forget about the shoving."

She clenched her fists, her voice eerily calm. No trace of the near-miss she'd just had.

The two paused, studying her. Something was different. The way she spoke, the way she carried herself—none of it matched the woman they used to know.

The old Song Weishi always kept her head down, speaking timidly, eager to please. In any argument, she'd back down, even when it wasn't her fault, just to keep the peace.

At first, her roommates had kept their distance. But over time, they'd helped themselves to her things without so much as a word.

So they'd come to assume she was still that meek, spineless Song Weishi. But now, staring into her eyes, something cold crept up their spines.

Human nature is to avoid harm. The more afraid you are, the more you want to resolve the threat quickly.

Ou Yue tied up her greasy hair and wiped the sweat from her face. "Song Weishi, get out. Don't make this ugly."

Song Weishi realized she'd been wasting her breath. She shouldn't be so lenient with people who'd tried to push her off a ledge.

She'd held onto a sliver of hope—this place was better than the frozen wasteland, so people couldn't be that bad. She'd even made it in on her own, and they still refused to retreat to their own rooms. She thought about how low her standards had sunk, how easily she let people trample all over her.

She stood her ground as they advanced. Loosening her fist, she threw a punch that took one of them down. Ou Yue, sensing danger, grabbed a nearby chair to swing at her. Song Weishi kicked her in the knee, and she crumpled with a scream.

Ou Yue stared at her in shocked confusion. Her leg wouldn't support her weight at all—it was like something heavy had slammed into it, leaving it numb and useless.

Mo Xiaojin was spitting stars, having taken a beating. Song Weishi hauled her up by the arm, the same way she'd tried to lift her own leg, and dragged her to the window, tossing her out.

A heavy thud echoed through the building. No one came to check. Ou Yue, dragging her limp leg, had just reached the door handle when Song Weishi caught up. She brought a stool down on her head, and Ou Yue went limp.

Song Weishi dragged her out too. Another thud.

She let out a sigh. She'd only wanted to come home and get some decent sleep. Why were these two so relentless?

This was her home too. Was coming back here some kind of crime?

She turned and spotted two large buckets of water in the room. She went out to confirm: the room was indeed hers. In the hallway outside, there were several garbage bags full of torn-open packages—clearly delivery boxes. Those two had never once left the apartment, surviving solely on the stash the original Song Weishi had stockpiled.

Song Weishi inspected the place top to bottom, then glanced at the glaring water and electricity meters, and finally at the nearly zero utility bills in their rooms. Anger surged through her.