The Boy on the Hill

I searched the house inside and out.

Found nothing.

“Maybe I’m overthinking,” I told myself. “Believe in science.”

If panic could not solve anything, then I would seek the truth.

I already had a plan for the night.

During the day, I would still do what I loved.

Paint.

That morning, I carried my easel up a hill overlooking the town.

From there, the entire place lay beneath me.

Morning sunlight gilded the wooden houses along both riverbanks.

The town was wrapped by green mountains, as if it had grown from nature itself.

The beauty calmed me.

I began sketching.

But I kept feeling cold.

A chill crawled along my back.

It was midsummer.

The sun was bright.

Why was I cold?

A breeze moved through the grass beside me.

The rustling made me shiver.

I lost all desire to paint.

Just as I prepared to leave, the melancholy-eyed boy appeared in my field of vision.

He looked toward me.

Our eyes met.

He seemed embarrassed and quickly looked away.

I smiled at him.

“Hey, local friend, can you help me?”

His features were straight and handsome.

High nose.

Dark skin.

It gave him a rugged feeling.

“Y-yes,” he said, walking over shyly.

“Hello, I’m Lia Liu.”

“I’m… Wang Bin.”

He looked nervous.

“Are you nervous?” I asked with a smile.

“No. No.”

He glanced at me, then looked away.

“You say no, but if your face weren’t dark, you’d probably be red as an apple.”

I teased him.

He scratched his head and said nothing.

“I want you to help me carry my easel back. I didn’t eat much this morning and have no strength left.”

“Okay.”

He began packing silently.

He was quiet.

Not good at talking.

On the way down, only I found topics.

Gradually, we stopped speaking.

Only when we reached the foot of the hill did Wang Bin say softly,

“You shouldn’t go up the mountain alone again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The old people in town say so.”

Old people?

Another ghost story?

“Then why did you come up?”

At this, Wang Bin grew even more embarrassed.

After a long silence, he said,

“Because I saw you go up in the morning. I was worried.”

Then he quickened his pace and walked ahead.

Had he been paying attention to me for a long time?

He walked so fast he left me far behind.

When I reached home, my easel and tools were already neatly placed at my door.

He even knew where I lived.

Thinking of his shy smile, I found this socially anxious boy rather cute.

That afternoon, I napped, preparing to stay awake all night and solve the mystery.

I made strong tea, scrolled videos, and grew more awake the longer I watched.

But my limbs became weak.

My brain was active.

My body was exhausted.

Especially my eyes.

They wanted to close.

Gradually, I entered that same state again.

Tap.

Tap.

The strange footsteps returned.

They seemed to control my heartbeat.

Fear rose.

“Who is it?”

“Who is playing this prank?”

I screamed in my mind.

I wanted to open my eyes.

But no matter how hard I tried, I could not.

The pressure returned.

I could not breathe.

“Sleep.”

“Sleep, child. Have a good sleep.”

A voice sounded beside my ear.

Hoarse.

Low.

Like an old man with phlegm stuck in his throat.

When I heard it, cold wind brushed my ear.

“Who’s talking?”

“Go away!”

My mind roared.

Then the voice spoke again.

“So pretty. Your eyes and nose look like your father.”

My entire body froze.

Like my father?

Did this voice know him?

But how?

This town was hundreds of kilometers from where I had lived.

I had only just moved here.

Other than the former owner, renovation workers, and Wang Bin, I knew no one.

I had never told anyone about my family.

Was something unclean truly watching me?

Then the footsteps became frantic.

Messy.

Like two people fighting.

I heard the sounds clearly.

Someone seemed injured.

A door opened.

Then closed.

After a long time, the cold deepened.

Exhaustion took me.

When I opened my eyes again, I stood in an endless white space.

Only one blurry back appeared ahead.

It felt familiar.

Close.

“Dad?”

I tried walking toward him.

No matter how much I closed the distance, I could not reach him.

So I ran.

I shouted,

“Dad!”

Finally, my strength gave out.

I fell to my knees.

“Dad, don’t go. Wait for me.”

The back finally answered.

“Yaoyao, why didn’t you listen?”

“Why didn’t you listen to me?”

He sighed.

“Go back. This is not where you should be.”

Then he began to disappear.

The space around me collapsed.

I fell into darkness.

I woke with a scream.

And then I realized something was wrong.

I had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Why was I now in bed?

My shoes had been removed.

My pajamas changed.

I opened my phone.

It was not on the home screen.

It was in the photo album.

Inside were nine full-body photos of me sleeping.

Taken at 2:30 a.m.

My phone dropped from my hand.

Who took these while I slept?

Who knew my password?