Rainy Evenings
Not long after arriving at Hong Kong Island, Lena found herself struggling with the high cost of living. The savings she had painstakingly accumulated during her university days were dwindling rapidly.
April in Hong Kong was a fickle month, alternating between rain and brief respites. On this particular evening, the sky hung heavy with gray clouds, and the air clung to her skin like warm, damp silk.
Lena had just finished an audition, dressed in a gray-blue qipao reminiscent of the Republican era. She joined the queue at a nearby street stall to grab a takeaway meal. The street itself felt worn and weathered, with old air conditioning units dripping water and emitting a low hum from the walls. The line stretched long, and the usual cacophony of voices surrounded her.
As if on cue, fine raindrops began to fall — a delicate mist that wove through the air like gossamer threads. Those ahead and behind her grumbled about the weather.
"It's raining again."
"Seems like it rains all day."
Lena glanced at the sky, then remembered her umbrella was still at the audition studio. A kind older man behind her tilted his umbrella to shield her.
Assuming she was a college student from a nearby performing arts school, he struck up a conversation in Cantonese. "Young lady, just finished classes?"
Lena had actually graduated from a mainland university the previous year, her major was unrelated to acting. Weary from denying her celebrity status, she nodded and replied, "Yes," gesturing to the umbrella tip in gratitude.
Today, her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her naturally pure features — a petite face, clear, elongated eyes, and a swan-like neck peeking above the qipao's collar.
The umbrella-bearing man was chatty. "Seeing you feels like encountering a character from a movie. You'll definitely become a big star and earn a fortune."
Lena had heard such compliments since childhood, but her response remained unflustered. She half-smiled and politely deflected, acknowledging the cutthroat competition in today's entertainment industry.
When her turn came, she purchased a three-course takeaway meal, and the rain subsided. Carrying her bag, she headed to the nearby bus stop, bound for her rented studio apartment.
While waiting for the bus, she received a message from her college roommate, Paul. He asked if she was available to explore Wujimity Mountain — a deserted mountain with remnants of an old church — for a video they could share on their social media account.
"Apparently, the video game I played in my last post was based on a real-life structure at Wujimity Mountain."
Back in Hamster city during her sophomore year, Lena and Paul had run a video account together. Their youthful energy and striking looks had garnered over a hundred thousand likes within two days, and their follower count skyrocketed overnight.
Life took them in different directions — Lena landed an acting role, while Paul sat on his middle exams, leaving the account dormant.
Now, a year after graduation, Paul's probationary salary was meager, and he struggled to find suitable acting gigs. Her wallet seemed to have a one-way flow — money in, but rarely out.
The two friends decided to revive their old venture, seeking extra income. Their first post after the hiatus? Paul's spine-chilling video game recording.
Despite some residual traffic, it was a far cry from their previous success.
Moonlit Pursuit
Lena checked the location of Wujimity Mountain — it was surprisingly close to her. From this station, a short ride on a minibus would take her there.
With no other plans for the evening, Lena hesitated briefly, then replied to Paul’s message. She stood by the roadside, waiting, and hailed down a passing minibus.
The drivers of Hong Kong Island’s minibusses were notorious for their aggressive driving. They took corners without slowing down, careening through the streets like roller coasters.
As Lena sat swaying in the minibus, she received a call from Paul.
“Lena, are you on your way now?”
Amidst the cacophony of surrounding noise, Lena instinctively covered her phone and turned her head toward the window. “Yes,” she replied, “I’m en route. Conveniently close.”
“Can you use the rear camera on your phone? I didn’t bring my camera.”
Paul chuckled on the other end. “Of course. You know those urban exploration videos on YouTube? The grainier
the quality, the more atmospheric they seem. Some look like scenes straight out of Kun Chiyan’s novels.”
Lena gazed out at the darkening sky through the bus window, her right eye twitching involuntarily.
Though not superstitious, an unsettling feeling crept over her. She asked, “Has anyone filmed the interior of that church? Is your information reliable? I’d hate to climb halfway up a mountain and find nothing.”
Paul assured her that he’d read about it on a gaming forum. No videos existed, but there were photos. The church matched the game’s setting perfectly, and Google Maps even provided directions. Surely, she wouldn’t make the trip in vain.
They chatted a bit more, and Lena sent him a few popular urban exploration video links for reference.
Paul ended the conversation playfully. “Thank goodness we’re both atheists; ghosts don’t scare us. But let’s hope this trip doesn’t lead to any supernatural encounters. Otherwise, I’ll find some talismans and set them as your
phone wallpaper.”
Lena adjusted her hair, laughing. “Isn’t that contradictory? You claim atheism, yet you’re worried about ghosts. Personally, I’m less concerned about spirits and more about running into trouble.”
Still, she carried a high-concentration wolf repellent spray in her bag—just in case.
Only later, reflecting on it all, did she realize her words had unwittingly become prophetic.
