Chapter Six: The Cellar

I had no idea why I blurted out those words—“Something’s happened”—but the sound I’d just heard was unmistakably my father’s phone ringtone. I was absolutely certain there couldn’t be a third person in this old house, so why was my father’s phone here? He rarely used it, but he never went anywhere without it. I’d even seen it myself: my number was the only one saved on his phone. I could understand why he always carried that otherwise useless device—it was for the chance, however brief, to call me.

Sweat drenched my forehead. Since the incident at the Yanjing Grand Hotel, a lingering sense of unease had nested in my heart, and now it burst forth without restraint.

“Damn, I’m exhausted, what’s your problem?” Old Tan grumbled, but still sat up. The moment he saw the look on my face, he froze.

Once I explained, he craned his neck to listen closely.

“Couldn’t it be your father’s come back?” Old Tan looked at me.

“Impossible. Both the front and back doors are locked—we’d have noticed if he came in.” Besides, there was something odd about that ringtone; it sounded muffled, like it was covered by something.

“Don’t overthink it. Maybe your dad just left his phone at home,” Old Tan suggested. That was possible, but I couldn’t shake off the strangeness. “Fine, let’s go look. We’ll find the phone first.”

Old Tan smirked, “And you call me a coward? Tch.” He never missed a chance to tease me, but I had no time to banter now.

The phone’s ringtone rang out eerily in the silent house. We unconsciously slowed our steps, moving forward by the flashlight’s dim glow, following the sound. The old furniture, battered and worn under the weak beam, seemed even more ancient. We stuck close together, ears straining for any sound, eyes wary of every shadow. The silence was so unnatural it made my skin crawl—even the cicadas, ever-present in the mountains, were absent.

As we entered the main hall, the phone’s ringing grew louder but still seemed oddly distant, as though coming from somewhere unreachable.

“It’s got to be in this room.” I swept the flashlight around.

“Hey, stop waving that thing—it’s like a haunted house in here. Let’s light some candles,” Old Tan said, turning to fetch three candles, which he lit and placed in the corners. The room brightened a little, and our fear receded. By now, the phone had stopped ringing—straight to voicemail—so I dialed again.

“That’s strange. It sounds like it’s right here, but there’s only a table and four stools. Where could it be? Maybe up there?” Old Tan scratched his head, stepping back to peer at the beams.

“The sound isn’t coming from above. And who would leave a phone on a roof beam?” I had barely finished speaking when Old Tan let out a startled yelp and vanished from sight. Alarmed, I rushed forward, only to burst out laughing at the sight before me.

“Good grief, was your house built during the tunnel warfare days? Why is there such a big pit in the main hall?” Old Tan clambered to his feet, rubbing his backside.

In the countryside, every house had a cellar, usually for storing sweet potatoes or oranges. It was typically built in the main hall, the most ventilated part of the house, because of the damp local climate. The cellar was always just inside the door, tucked into the left-hand corner; the right-hand side was often reserved for a coffin for the elderly.

Our cellar was covered by a bamboo mat and a layer of oilcloth. The bamboo was rotten from age, and Old Tan, too busy looking up, had stepped right through.

“Well, Old Tan, you’ve managed to find the cellar—truly a loyal friend,” I laughed, squatting at the edge. But then I realized how deep the cellar was—at least three or four meters.

“Shut up,” Old Tan grumbled, stretching out a hand for me to pull him up.

It was deep enough that I had to lean in to grab his hand.

“Come on, move closer,” I urged, straining as I tried to pull him.

“With all these traps, you think I dare move? Come on, pull harder...”

We struggled for a while and got nowhere. Growing impatient, I sat at the edge, braced my feet against the stone wall, and reached down with both hands. Old Tan was light, and with a bit of effort, I should be able to haul him out.

Seeing me so determined, Old Tan gave it his all, scrambling upward. Just as we were about to succeed, a bizarre, bone-chilling noise echoed from the darkness below.

“Er... er... ah... cough, cough...”

We froze. In that instant, Old Tan’s grip slipped and his hands flailed. He grabbed, with uncanny precision, at the most painful spot possible. My legs lost their purchase, and the next thing I knew I was falling, crashing down on top of Old Tan.

Falling three or four meters was no joke; if Old Tan hadn’t been there to break my fall, I might have been knocked out cold. He was winded, but otherwise fine. We fumbled about at the bottom for a while, finally managing to lean against the wall.

As soon as my head cleared, I asked, “Did you hear that just now?”

Old Tan, ready to retort, nodded instead. The cellar was pitch black, our only light my phone. As Old Tan had said, the space was enormous—nearly half the size of the main hall above.

We saw nothing, but neither of us dared relax for even a second. That sound had come from right here, and I was certain the last two noises had been someone quietly coughing.

“This cellar’s enormous. What do we do now?” Old Tan asked.

“We need to get out of here—” I stopped, struck by a sudden realization. “Wait, Old Tan, do you think my dad’s phone ringtone was coming from down here?”

“It’s possible,” he agreed.

The only way to be sure was to call my father’s number again. We both watched my phone screen as I dialed, then instinctively raised our heads to peer into the darkness.

The ringtone trilled out from somewhere in the cellar, and a chill swept through me.

“It... it really is down here,” Old Tan stammered, eyes wide.

But something was still strange—the ringtone was muffled, as if smothered by something. After a few seconds, I tried to pinpoint the direction and crept forward, step by step. Old Tan followed, his teeth chattering audibly.

As children, this cellar had been packed with sweet potatoes. Liu Jia the Fool and I often sneaked a few to roast and eat. That memory was so familiar, but now the cellar filled me with dread. The farther I walked, the colder it grew. Compared to the damp heat outside, the cellar was icy.

I held the phone out ahead, ready to bolt if anything appeared. Paralyzed by fear, every step seemed to lead deeper into endless darkness. I’d never faced anything like this before, and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.

Perhaps I moved too slowly; before I reached the far wall, the call ended. I glanced at my phone—almost out of battery. I turned to ask Old Tan if he had his phone, in case we lost our only source of light.

I turned, but the words caught in my throat. My blood seemed to drain from my body all at once; I froze.

The glow of the screen lit Old Tan’s face, making him look deathly pale and sinister. He stood motionless, arms hanging straight at his sides. But what terrified me most was the grin splitting his face, exposing ghastly white teeth—a smile so eerie, so cadaverous, it looked as if it belonged on a corpse.

I lasted barely two seconds before I broke down, screaming, dropping my phone, stumbling backward until I collapsed against something.

“Hey, Lao Yuan, what’s wrong with you?” Old Tan’s voice was full of surprise. He picked up the phone and crouched beside me.

“Don’t come any closer!” I screamed, instinctively shrinking away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Old Tan stared, baffled. His expression was back to normal—ugly, yes, but familiar, with that usual hint of slyness.

I studied him closely for a long moment, wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing. It was so dark, and the glow of the screen could easily distort a face. I’d been so tense, it was easy to make a mistake.

Only when Old Tan threatened to slap me did I stand up. “I’m fine, just... too nervous.”

“Damn, you scared me... Wait, what’s that?” Old Tan suddenly stared in astonishment past me.

I turned, following the faint light of the phone, and froze in shock.