The old lady was hospitalized for treatment and rented the apartment to the salesman.
The salesman was a foreigner in his thirties. Following the company's requirement, he wore a white shirt every day. He was gentle and polite.
The salesman appeared friendly on the surface, but his heart was riddled with holes. He was a very unlucky person.
No matter what he did, he would fail for some strange reason.
Sometimes, strange things would happen around him. For example, he would have nightmares about his wife being dismembered and placed inside a drawer. He would struggle and worry the whole night, and when he woke up in the morning, he realized that he did not have a girlfriend.
The sky was clear when he left home, but halfway there, it started to pour. His clothes were soaked. He wanted to go to a breakfast shop to avoid the rain, but he realized that he had lost his wallet.
Unable to hail a cab, he walked to the company. He was scolded by his boss for being late, and the customers did not like him at all. The worst thing was, when he returned home, he realized that the door had been pried open, and a burglar had broken into the house.
What might have been a rough day for other people was a normal day for the salesman.
Compared to those unlucky things, what really made him despair was that the house he lived in seemed to be haunted!
He lived alone in the old house. At night, he wanted to relax by watching television. Whenever he saw something happy, before he could enjoy it, there would be laughter coming from behind him.
There were many similar things. In the middle of a shower, someone would pass him shampoo. When he went to the toilet without toilet paper, a roll of toilet paper would roll into the bathroom on its own.
He used to be a staunch atheist, but this experience was slowly changing his worldview.
To prove that he was not mentally ill, he bought a video camera and filmed it in the apartment.
After a week, he realized that there really was a ghost in the apartment, and the ghost was hiding inside the drawer!
The salesman tried to board up all the drawers and wardrobes, but the ghost did not appear again. However, his luck only worsened. About a month later, he was fired by his boss, and on his way home, he got into a car accident.
After his death, the salesman found out that there was a ghost on his body. Previously, it was the ghost in the apartment that helped him suppress it, but when he sealed up the wardrobes and drawers, the ghost had no other ghosts to keep it in check, and in the end, it killed him.
The main character of the fourth story was an old landlady. Her tenants all had accidents, and she felt extremely guilty. She stubbornly believed that it was all her fault.
Slowly, the old lady's mental health started to deteriorate. She had a feeling that her child and the previous two tenants had not left, and everyone was still living in the old house.
She asked the neighbors and the people around her again. The neighbors who knew the old house's past shunned the old lady. They thought she was an unlucky woman, and they purposely distanced themselves from her.
Some even moved away as if they were fleeing. The number of tenants decreased, and the old lady became more and more reticent.
Slowly, a rumor that a certain room was haunted appeared in the neighborhood, and the old lady herself became a synonym for ghosts and abnormalities.
Everyone stayed away from her, and no one was willing to interact with her.
Some time passed in this way, and the old lady met a poor painter at the foot of an overpass.
The painter's face was swollen, as if he had just been in a fight. The old lady sympathized with him and asked the painter to paint a picture of her deceased son.
Originally, she just wanted to find a reason to sponsor the artist for a meal, but who would have thought that the person the artist casually drew would look so much like her son. Not only the appearance, but even the aura and gaze were exactly the same.
The old lady treasured the painter's painting and hung it in her room.
To her surprise, the next evening, someone else came to rent the room, and this new tenant was the painter.
The artist did not expect the landlord to be an old lady. He had searched the old city and found this room was the cheapest.
Life was a combination of countless coincidences. The artist met the first person in his life who appreciated him and gained his first fan, and the old lady met someone who was not afraid of her and was willing to talk to her.
The painter became the new tenant of the old house. The old lady only charged the painter a nominal fee. She treated the painter as her own child, and her favorite thing to do was to listen to the painter talk about his dreams.
After a month or two, the old lady gradually discovered something strange about the painter.
The artist often talked to his paintings. Every night, there would be strange noises coming from the artist's room.
In the third month, the old lady was so curious that she sneaked into the artist's room when he went out to submit.
In the end, she found a handmade comic book in the drawer of the artist's work desk. There were four stories inside.
The strange art style, the scary plot, and every character seemed to come alive.
The weirdest thing was, the first three stories corresponded to the old lady's son, the English teacher, and the salesman.
The more she read, the more afraid the old lady became. Then she turned to the fourth story. To her surprise, the main character of the fourth story was herself, and it was about what happened after she met the artist.
This was the end of the fourth story. The next story would be the last one.
The fifth story was very short. It was like a fanfic. The main character was a comic artist. He had the standard middle-aged face of a depressed man, and he looked very depressed.
The comic introduced his daily life. He woke up at 5: 20 am, and he cheered himself on in front of the mirror. Then he took out the drawing paper from the drawer and started to proofread the draft.
He busied himself until 8: 20 am. He arranged all the drafts and took his bag to a local publisher in Jiujiang to recommend his comic to the editor.
The result was that his one month of hard work was rejected in less than fifteen minutes. He walked out of the office like a zombie.
He held the draft and sat by the road. He looked at the busy city and waited until the sky turned dark before he returned home with a sad face.
He walked through the noisy city and entered the dark corridor. Then he opened the door to Room 304.
The warm light fell on him. The landlady had prepared dinner for him. She said that she had seen his drawing that morning, and she thought it was very good.
The artist had lost track of how many times he had been rejected. He apologized to the old lady and promised that he would not be drawing anymore.
Returning to his room, the artist locked the door and hugged his legs as he sat in the corner of the room.
Looking at the drawer full of rejection letters, he buried his head in his chest.
Failure after failure, he crumpled the rejected drawings into a ball and tossed them into the trashcan.
He kept complaining and feeling wronged. He said that he did not have the talent to draw, so he decided to give up on everything. Even if he had to jump off a building, he would never draw again.
He grumbled to himself until midnight. The exhausted artist lay on the mat and fell asleep.
The light in the room flickered before going off.
The crumpled paper in the trashcan crawled out on its own. It flattened out bit by bit before being placed inside the cupboard. The table was also cleaned up.
The last part of the comic turned black and white. In the cramped room, the artist had fallen asleep, but there were several 'people' floating around him.
The leader was a tall and thin man. He used his remaining right hand to pull the cover over the artist and mumbled, "You're such a troublemaker."
Next to him was a woman whose body looked like it was about to crumble. The woman was beautiful, and her brows were tightly furrowed. She tossed away the few adult parts that the artist had drawn and then carefully flattened out all the scraps.
There was also a man in a black shirt standing at the table. He was holding a pen to edit the artist's draft.
The night passed quickly. The next morning, at 5: 20 am, the alarm rang punctually, and the artist woke up with a start.
He switched off the alarm, picked up the mirror, and looked at his face in it. He started to cheer for himself.
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