The rain continued throughout the night.
By the time Chen Mo reached his apartment, the streets were almost empty.
He climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor, unlocked his door, and stepped inside.
The apartment was small.
One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen barely large enough for a person to turn around in, and a living room containing nothing more than a worn sofa and a wooden table.
It was enough.
Chen Mo placed the plastic bag on the kitchen counter.
The packet of spicy beef noodles landed beside the bottle of water.
He stared at them for a moment.
Then he looked toward the window.
Rain slid down the glass in thin streams.
The city beyond it was blurred by water and darkness.
Chen Mo remained still.
Something had been following him since the pharmacy.
Not physically.
At least, not in any way he could see.
He closed his eyes.
The apartment became quiet.
The refrigerator hummed.
Water dripped from the air conditioner outside.
A motorcycle passed somewhere in the distance.
Chen Mo listened.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes.
“Probably nothing.”
He said it quietly, almost as if saying it aloud would make the thought more convincing.
He turned on the kitchen light and opened the packet of noodles.
Five minutes later, he was sitting at the table, eating directly from the bowl.
The first mouthful was too hot.
He didn't care.
For years, he had learned not to think too deeply about the things that happened to him.
That was easier.
The world had rules.
People were born, grew old, became sick, recovered, worked, fell in love, and eventually died.
Those rules had never applied to him completely.
He had discovered that when he was seventeen.
At first, it had been something small.
He could hear things other people couldn't.
A heartbeat through a closed door.
A conversation from the apartment below.
The sound of footsteps from the end of a hallway before the person appeared.
Then came the reflexes.
The strength.
The strange sensation that sometimes appeared beneath his skin when danger was near.
He had spent years convincing himself that none of it mattered.
He never used his abilities unless he had to.
He never allowed himself to become careless.
And most importantly, he never let anyone find out.
Chen Mo finished the noodles and placed the empty bowl in the sink.
As he turned away, a faint crackle sounded beside his right eye.
He stopped.
The light in the kitchen flickered.
Once.
Then twice.
Chen Mo slowly raised his head.
The room looked normal.
The refrigerator continued humming.
The rain continued falling.
Nothing had changed.
But his instincts disagreed.
He walked toward the window.
The moment his fingers touched the glass, the sound returned.
A faint vibration.
Almost too weak to notice.
It seemed to come from somewhere far away.
Chen Mo frowned.
He closed his eyes again.
This time, he did not listen with his ears.
He reached inward.
The sensation was difficult to describe.
It was like standing in a dark room and suddenly realizing there was another person standing somewhere behind you.
You could not see them.
You could not hear them.
Yet you knew they were there.
Chen Mo's breathing slowed.
The faint vibration became clearer.
It was coming from the east.
Several kilometers away.
Then something happened.
The vibration disappeared.
Chen Mo opened his eyes.
His expression remained calm.
But his fingers were no longer resting loosely against the window.
They were gripping the frame.
“What was that?”
No answer came.
He waited.
Nothing.
After several seconds, he released the frame.
Perhaps he had imagined it.
That possibility was becoming less convincing by the minute.
Chen Mo turned away from the window and walked into his bedroom.
There was a wooden box beneath the bed.
He pulled it out.
The box was old.
Its surface had been scratched and repaired so many times that the original color was difficult to recognize.
He opened it.
Inside were several things.
An old photograph.
A black wristwatch that no longer worked.
A small metal pendant.
And a folded piece of paper.
Chen Mo picked up the pendant.
It was roughly the size of a coin.
The metal was dark and cold.
There was no symbol on the front.
Only a shallow circular mark that looked almost like a c***k.
He held it between his fingers.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the pendant became warm.
Chen Mo's eyes narrowed.
The warmth lasted less than a second.
It disappeared before he could confirm what he had felt.
He stared at the pendant.
This had never happened before.
He placed it back inside the box.
The moment he did, the room fell silent.
Too silent.
Chen Mo looked toward the bedroom door.
His expression changed slightly.
He could hear the neighbors.
A television playing through the wall.
Someone washing dishes.
A child complaining about going to sleep.
Normal sounds.
Everything was normal.
Then he heard another sound.
Three floors below.
A single footstep.
Chen Mo remained still.
Another.
Then another.
Someone was climbing the stairs.
Slowly.
Chen Mo looked at the clock.
11:47 p.m.
Most people in the building were already asleep.
The footsteps stopped on the second floor.
Chen Mo waited.
Nothing.
He relaxed slightly.
Then the footsteps started again.
One floor.
Two.
They were getting closer.
Chen Mo quietly closed the wooden box and pushed it beneath the bed.
The footsteps reached the third floor.
Silence followed.
Chen Mo stood in the darkness of his bedroom.
A faint spark appeared beside his right eye.
This time, it did not disappear immediately.
For the briefest moment, a thin thread of electricity crawled across his skin.
Chen Mo stared at it.
He slowly clenched his hand.
The spark vanished.
Three seconds later, someone knocked on his door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Chen Mo did not move.
Another three knocks followed.
He walked toward the living room.
His footsteps made almost no sound.
He stopped beside the door.
“Who is it?”
There was no response.
Chen Mo waited.
Then a man's voice came from the other side.
“Sorry to bother you.”
The voice was unfamiliar.
“I think I have the wrong apartment.”
Chen Mo's eyes narrowed.
He looked through the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
No one stood outside.
He remained there for several seconds.
Then he opened the door.
The hallway was silent.
The light above the staircase flickered.
Once.
Chen Mo stepped outside.
He looked down the stairs.
Nothing.
He looked toward the elevator.
The doors were closed.
Then he noticed something on the floor.
A small black object.
It looked like a piece of metal.
Chen Mo crouched down and picked it up.
The moment his fingers touched it, his vision blurred.
For less than a second, he saw something that wasn't there.
A street.
Rain.
A man standing beneath a broken streetlight.
Blood running down one side of his face.
The man looked directly at Chen Mo.
Then the vision vanished.
Chen Mo stood motionless.
His heart had not sped up.
His breathing had not changed.
But his expression had become completely serious.
He looked down at the object in his hand.
It was warm.
The same strange warmth as the pendant beneath his bed.
Chen Mo slowly closed his fingers around it.
Somewhere far away, thunder rolled across the city.
The sound was low and distant.
Then came another sensation.
That same disturbance from earlier.
Only this time, it was stronger.
Much stronger.
It spread through the darkness like a ripple moving across deep water.
Chen Mo raised his head.
The electricity beside his right eye flickered again.
He could feel something calling from the eastern part of the city.
Not a voice.
Not a sound.
Something deeper.
Something that seemed to recognize him.
Chen Mo stood alone in the hallway, the mysterious piece of metal resting in his palm.
For the first time in years, he felt something he had almost forgotten.
Unease.
He looked toward the dark stairwell.
Then toward the window at the end of the corridor.
Beyond the glass, the rain continued to fall.
The city appeared peaceful.
But Chen Mo knew better now.
Something had changed tonight.
And whatever had awakened in the darkness had noticed him.
He returned to his apartment and locked the door.
Then he looked beneath the bed.
The wooden box was still there.
The pendant inside was no longer cold.
It was glowing faintly through the cracks of the box.
Chen Mo stared at it.
His expression became unreadable.
“Looks like my quiet life is over.”
Outside, thunder sounded again.
This time, there was no lightning in the sky.
Only a faint flash beneath Chen Mo's right eye.
And somewhere in the distance, something answered