Carrying My Senior's Coffin (GL) - Chapter 3

There was no rust as she had imagined from long years of disuse. On the contrary, the lock worked better than the one in her original dorm room, opening with a crisp, new-sounding click.

It was nighttime. The room, which had been empty for years, had no lights on. The curtains were tightly drawn, blocking all light from the outside, leaving only the dim glow from the hallway.

For some reason, the layout of this room was different from the other dorms.

First, it was a bit larger than the others. Inside, there was only a single bed, a desk, and a chair. It was vast and empty, pitch black, and chilling, like a man-eating monster. Near the balcony, there was a small, doorless compartment. Due to the lack of light, it was totally dark—nothing could be seen, and even the light switch was in a different place than in the other dorms.

Fang Yiyi stood by the door, using her body to counteract the door’s momentum to close. Her eyes searched for the light switch. Her shadow stretched out long and thin across the room.

After surveying the room, she finally spotted the switch by the chair, about three steps away.

Fang Yiyi frowned in a dilemma.

The door of this dorm seemed to have a spring mechanism; there was always a force trying to shut it. Standing by the door and bracing it, she could feel how strong that force was. If she were careless and let go, the door could easily injure her hand.

To turn on the light, she would have to leave the door, and the room would then become pitch black—where she couldn’t see her own hand.

Unless absolutely necessary, she truly did not want to be alone in the darkness.

Because she was already lonely, merging with the darkness and being silent meant that even if she died, no one would notice.

At that moment, another voice argued in her mind: Does anyone notice you when you’re alive?

This thought seemed to abruptly flip a carefully hidden switch. An indescribable negative emotion enveloped her. Sadness, despair, low self-esteem—a torrent of negative feelings poured out. Fang Yiyi’s breathing involuntarily became rapid.

She leaned against the door panel, her chest heaving violently, nearly unable to stand.

It was too familiar. She had once been immersed in this emotion, spending her days in a daze, isolated from the world, and eventually driven to slit her wrists in a suicide attempt.

Her parents’ death, her friends’ betrayal, and her relatives’ disgust—all served as reminders that this world was beautiful, brilliant, and sunny, but unfortunately, she didn’t deserve it.

Because she was the instigator of it all, the culprit who created this situation.

The voice clamored in her ear again, whipping her for her sins over and over: Everyone else is dead, why are you still alive? What right do you have to live?

Fang Yiyi’s head was splitting. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging harshly into the flesh of her palms. The brief pain was the only thing that managed to suppress the creeping despair.

Feeling a warm current slide across her palm, she looked down distractedly. A dark red stain with the scent of rust was seeping into the outermost sheet of her quilt.

Fang Yiyi closed her eyes. She released her fists and placed her open hands flat on the sheet, the dark red spreading slowly between her fingers.

After a long time, the shuffling of footsteps from the staircase, mixed with the sounds of people talking and laughing, slowly approached.

The classes that had been at evening study were returning.

Fang Yiyi’s eyelashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes. Her brown pupils held a residual fear that hadn’t completely dissipated, but her state was much better than before.

She just hoped she could get a good night’s sleep. She had struggled so hard to crawl out of that man-eating mire and absolutely did not want to go back.

And now, she was just here to attend school.

Fang Yiyi moved her legs and realized her limbs were a bit stiff. She could barely hold her quilt anymore.

Holding the position for too long had made her arms sore and painful.

But she couldn’t just stand there, either. Fang Yiyi tightened her grip on the quilt, pinpointed the switch, and quickly rushed over.

The instant the door slammed shut, she flicked the light on.

The sudden burst of bright light made her instinctively squint.

Fang Yiyi let out a long breath.

The large room was brightly lit, the doors and windows sealed tight, as if cut off from the world. She was completely alone.

In fact, judging from the layout, this room was originally a single room.

Zhengling Women’s University was a private school, ranked among the top three in the country. It was highly prestigious, offered good benefits, and had excellent faculty. While the admission threshold was high, the internal management was extremely strict.

In other words, unless a family was exceptionally powerful and influential, no amount of money could arrange special privileges.

Yet, the previous occupant had a single room!

She tossed the quilt onto the bed and sat on the iron railing of the headboard to rest.

Now that the lights were on, Fang Yiyi re-examined the room.

Due to being vacant for a long time, the desktop and floor were covered with a thin layer of dust. When she walked in earlier, her footsteps had left a trail of prints on the floor.

The light was too dim just now, so she hadn’t noticed the large wooden wardrobe by the headboard, placed tightly against the wall.

Fang Yiyi measured it—it looked big enough to fit two of her inside without a problem.

What was most notable was the small, doorless compartment by the balcony. Due to backlighting issues, it still looked completely black from her position; nothing could be seen.

Fang Yiyi had no intention of going over to look.

She hadn’t felt curious about anything in a very long time.

Moreover, it was too late now, and she had class tomorrow. For some reason, she felt exceptionally tired today.

She was too lazy to even clean and just wanted to sleep.

As she decided to be lazy, Fang Yiyi thought: There might not even be a broom in this room. If not, I’ll have to get one from the dorm manager.

Fang Yiyi got up, rummaged through her bag for a roll of toilet paper, tore off a long strip, and roughly wiped the bed board.

After wiping, she had nowhere to put the paper. Thinking for a moment, she opened a new underwear packaging bag, put the dirty paper inside, and placed it neatly by the bed post on the floor at the foot of the bed, planning to throw it away tomorrow.

After everything was tidied up, she checked her old-fashioned phone—it was already ten o’clock.

Fang Yiyi yawned.

Her biological clock was set for 9:30 p.m. at the latest. She kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, then sat up halfway to turn off the light, before burrowing under the covers and falling asleep instantly.

Dorm Room 404 once again plunged into its usual darkness and silence.

Suddenly, a thread of red shadow, thin as a mayfly, flickered in the darkness, cutting a straight line and stopping in front of the single bed.

A sudden draft inside the room blew the curtain slightly ajar, and a faint stream of streetlight leaked in. In the darkness, a slender, grayish-white hand appeared.

The fingers of the hand were naturally pressed together, suspended mid-air above the single bed, with no arm attached to it. It seemed to appear out of thin air, floating motionless. The bright red fingernails looked as if they could drip blood, making it incredibly bizarre.

After a moment, the hand slowly moved downward.

Fang Yiyi, deep in sleep, frowned. Perhaps feeling cold, she instinctively curled up into a small ball under the quilt, but she did not wake up.

The hand stopped an inch above her eyebrows.

The wind picked up, and the curtain slapped against the glass with a sudden, urgent sound. The room instantly returned to darkness.

But by the head of the bed, a woman in a long red dress suddenly materialized!

She was slender, her back hunched, leaning over the space above Fang Yiyi’s head. Her head was bowed, and her long hair hung down, falling onto the pillow, obscuring her face.

Fang Yiyi slept restlessly. A bone-chilling coldness invaded her entire body. It started subtly, but for some reason, the cold intensified. It wasn’t the vast, open cold of winter, but an extreme, dark, unseen chill—like tiny, ominous needles piercing her skin and driving into every part of her body.

Her eyelashes trembled and moved.

She was actually awake, but for some reason, her eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and she couldn’t open them no matter what. Her body was no longer her own; she couldn’t move at all.

The phrase “sleep paralysis” (literally “ghost pressing the bed”) flashed clearly in her mind.