Cries Next Door

At one in the morning, the cursor at the bottom right corner of the screen ticked like a pendulum counting down her doom. Lin Wanqiao stared at the Excel spreadsheet, her fingers unconsciously rubbing against the worn-out employee badge — "Xingyao Group · Brand Planning Department."

A WeChat notification chimed abruptly. Meng Wei, the marketing department manager, sent a message that was cold and stinging: [Meng Wei: The positioning of the proposal is vague. I don't see any fresh ideas for Xingyao's breakthrough. Where's the logic and data? I want a rewritten version by eight tomorrow morning.]

The "Breath of Stars" series transformation was the breakthrough project for the long-established Xingyao Group, and it was also Lin Wanqiao's life-or-death test before her probation ended. Meng Wei pursued the ultimate in "de-traditionalization," while Lin Wanqiao's efforts to preserve the brand's heritage were often dismissed as "unprofessional" in a giant corporation that valued efficiency above all else. This torn feeling made her like a tightly wound spinning top, pushed to her limit by late-night exhaustion.

"Getting criticized again?"

A muffled voice came from beside her. Zhao Li was wearing a loose coral fleece pajama set, a somewhat exaggerated soft sleep cap on her head, and a translucent hydrating mask still stuck to her face. She shuffled over in her slippers to stand behind Lin Wanqiao, peeked at the screen, and couldn't help clicking her tongue. "It's already one-thirty. Doesn't that Manager Meng of yours ever sleep? Even a capitalist would weep."

"The new product needs to launch next month. The timeline is too tight." Lin Wanqiao sighed, placed her hands on the keyboard, and prepared to restructure the PPT.

"You're way too honest." Zhao Li yawned and casually rubbed her neck. "But seriously, did you hear that? Something seems off next door tonight."

Lin Wanqiao stopped typing and listened closely.

This thirty-year-old apartment building had terrible soundproofing. What came through the wall right now wasn't the usual daily noise, but an extremely suppressed, intermittent sound of sobbing.

The sound was very low, muffled within the plaster, carrying a hoarseness that hadn't yet shed its childishness. It sounded like a teenage boy, desperately covering his mouth, suppressing his cries in extreme pain.

"How strange," Zhao Li said, peeling off her face mask and tossing it into the trash, her brow furrowed. "Hasn't apartment 202 next door been empty all along? Two days ago, the landlord left the key in the key box by the door, saying he was in a hurry to rent it out. Why is someone crying there in the dead of night?"

"Could it be a new tenant?" Lin Wanqiao asked.

"Impossible. If someone had really moved in, I would've heard the moving company making a racket." Zhao Li stared suspiciously at the wall, instinctively shrinking back, grabbing a plastic slipper from the entryway with one hand while swiftly opening the voice recorder on her phone with the other. "I have to record this. Just in case it's a burglar, or... something unclean. This is me gathering evidence."

"Don't talk nonsense. There's no such thing as something unclean." Lin Wanqiao tried to reassure her, but she felt a little creeped out herself.

The crying grew clearer, accompanied by heavy, labored breaths, as if each inhale and exhale pulled at immense pain. Lin Wanqiao was naturally sensitive, and she could tell that the crying wasn't the eerie kind from horror movies. Instead, it was filled with helplessness and despair. It was the sound a child makes when they have nowhere left to turn.

"I'm going to bed, Qiaoqiao. Finish your proposal and get some sleep too. Don't bother with the neighbor." Zhao Li let out a big yawn. Though she said she wasn't scared, she still scurried back to her bedroom and firmly closed the door.

The living room fell silent again, leaving only the crisp sound of Lin Wanqiao's keyboard.

But the crying next door grew louder. The boy seemed unable to bear it any longer, letting out a suppressed growl, followed by the dull thud of something heavy hitting the wall.

"Thump!"

Lin Wanqiao's desk shook. Startled, she nearly spilled the cup in her hand.

She looked at the slightly peeling wall and could no longer pretend nothing was wrong. The pressure at work, the exhaustion of late night, and the sympathy for that anguished cry all mixed together into an impulse.

The despair in that crying made Lin Wanqiao think of her rejected proposal and of her own drifting life in this city. Acting on some strange impulse, she walked to the wall, gently knocked on the warped wallpaper, and asked softly, "Hey? Neighbor... are you okay?"

The crying on the other side stopped abruptly.

Dead silence.

Lin Wanqiao held her breath and pressed her ear against the cold wallpaper. A full half minute passed before a highly cautious, even trembling teenage boy's voice came through from the other side:

"Who are you? How are you talking inside my room?"

The voice did indeed sound like a teenage boy — the characteristic hoarseness of a changing voice laced with heavy wariness, like a frightened animal baring its claws in the dark.

Lin Wanqiao was taken aback, finding the exchange rather absurd. She couldn't help but laugh. "Little brother, this is my apartment. You're in 202 next door, right? Why are you crying so sadly in the middle of the night? Did something happen?"

"Next door? What 202?" The boy's voice sounded even more confused, tinged with anger. "This is the Old Lu Residence. I'm the only one in this attic. Where are you, exactly? Why is your voice coming from the wall?"

Lin Wanqiao frowned slightly. Old Lu Residence? This rundown tenement building was called "Happiness Apartments." What old residence was he talking about? And from the sound of it, he didn't seem to be joking.

"Are you still half-asleep?" Lin Wanqiao sighed. Exhaustion left her with no energy for role-playing games. But hearing the tearful quality still lingering in his breathing, she finally softened. Using the gentle tone she usually adopted when comforting others, she said, "Don't panic. Let's take it one step at a time. First, tell me your name. Why are you crying alone?"

There was a long silence from the other side of the wall. So long that Lin Wanqiao thought he wouldn't answer. But then the hoarse voice came through, muffled and subdued:

"...Lu Shiyue."

Lin Wanqiao searched her memory and confirmed she didn't know that name.

"Lu Shiyue. That's a nice name." Lin Wanqiao sat down against the wall. The chill of the floor seeped through her pants, sobering her up a bit. "So why were you crying?"

"My grandfather passed away." The boy's voice suddenly dropped, carrying a numbness bordering on despair. "My uncles came by today. They took all the valuables from the house. They said tomorrow they're going to sell this place and send me to a boarding school... But this is the only place my grandfather left me."

Lin Wanqiao's fingers trembled slightly. She suddenly recalled her own early days in this city — homeless, clutching her suitcase on an overpass, watching the traffic flow by, feeling like the whole world had abandoned her.

"How can they do this..." Lin Wanqiao said softly, her tone gaining a gentle empathy. "But hiding in the attic and crying won't solve anything. When are your uncles coming tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" The boy let out a self-deprecating laugh, a sound so thin it was heartbreaking. "They said tomorrow is October 16th. They'll bring the real estate agent to see the house at eight in the morning."

Lin Wanqiao glanced at the time at the bottom right corner of her computer screen.

[2024/10/15 01:45]

"Tomorrow really is the 16th," Lin Wanqiao replied casually. "But what you need most right now is rest. Sleep well tonight, and figure things out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The boy on the other side suddenly raised his voice, laced with a hysterical confusion. "Today is October 15th! And... and it's 2014! What nonsense are you talking about?"

The air seemed to freeze in that instant.

Lin Wanqiao's body went completely stiff. She slowly turned her head and stared at the clear 【2024】 on her computer screen.

"You said... what year is it?" Her voice began to tremble.

"2014." The boy's voice was utterly certain, even carrying a hint of suspicion toward her. "October 15, 2014. You don't even know what year it is?"

Lin Wanqiao felt a chill surge from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. She sprang to her feet, and in her haste, her knee slammed hard into the corner of the desk, making her gasp in pain.

2014?

Ten years ago?

That was absolutely impossible. It had to be some bored neighbor playing a prank, or Zhao Li getting someone to mess with her.

"Lu Shiyue, this joke isn't funny at all." Lin Wanqiao's voice turned cold. She walked quickly to the entryway and grabbed the key to the security door.

She was going to check for herself.

"I'm not joking!" The boy on the other side seemed to panic, his voice laced with tears and grievance. "I really am in 2014... Please don't go. Don't leave me here alone..."

Lin Wanqiao didn't answer. She pulled open the front door, and the old security door let out a screeching, grating groan.

The hallway was pitch black. The motion-sensor light had long since broken. The late autumn wind poured in through the broken window, making Lin Wanqiao shrink her neck. She turned on her phone's flashlight, and a pale beam of light tore through the darkness.

She walked a few steps down the narrow corridor and stopped in front of apartment 202.

The security door was rusted and covered in layers of little ads for "professional locksmiths" and "drain unclogging," piled on top of each other, their edges yellowed and curled. Above the lock hung a black combination key box, thick with dust, clearly untouched for a long time.

Lin Wanqiao's heart began to race, pounding like a heavy drum in the silent hallway.

She reached out, her fingertips touching the cold door handle.

Surprisingly, the door wasn't locked. With a soft click, a dark crack appeared in the doorway.

Lin Wanqiao swallowed hard. She illuminated the way with her flashlight and slowly pushed the door open.

A wave of musty, dusty air rushed out, making her cough a few times.

The beam of the flashlight swept across the empty room.

There was no furniture at all. No sofa, no TV, no bed. The floor was thick with dust, swirling wildly in the light beam as she moved. The wallpaper had peeled off in large patches, revealing the gray, decaying cement beneath.

This was an empty, long-vacant shell of a room, without even basic finishing.

There was no sign of anyone living here.

No teenage boy. No Lu Shiyue hiding in an attic.

Lin Wanqiao stood in the center of the empty living room. The flashlight beam fell on the wall adjacent to her own apartment. It was a load-bearing wall, covered in cracks and thick dust.

"Lu Shiyue?" she called out tentatively.

Only her own echo answered in the empty room.

Lin Wanqiao smiled wryly to herself and was about to turn and leave when, from within that cracked, dusty load-bearing wall, the boy's tearful, trembling whisper came again, piercing the dead silence, desperately clinging to her:

"Hey? Are you still there... Please don't go... I'm afraid of the dark."