They All Say I Encountered A Ghost Chapter 7

This time the school bus wasn't so cold. It was very comfortable.

The driver didn't speak. In the dimness I fell deeply asleep in my seat. In my sleep, I felt a bitter gust of wind around me. When I opened my eyes, it seemed that the cold wind was swirling away from me. The driver must have had his air-conditioning on a very distinct setting.

I dozed uneasily all the way to Benevolence Middle School. The driver stopped the bus and said to me, "Get off. The cla.s.ses usually take two hours. I'll pick you up at two o'clock. I'll wait for you until five o'clock in the morning at the latest. If you haven't come out by five…"

The driver looked at me very seriously. His eyes were shining in the night.

I quickly said, "You don't have to wait until 5 o'clock, dage. It's such hard work going out in the middle of the night. If I'm five minutes late, you can go home and rest. I'll get back on a bike share. It's summer, the nights are pleasant. I can get some exercise. "

The driver ignored me and stubbornly said, "I'll wait until 5 o'clock. I hope you can get out."

He really was a dedicated and kind-hearted colleague. As a new professional, I wanted to take the driver as an example and be a serious and responsible teacher.

As soon as I got out, the driver drove the school bus away, not even leaving me with the exhaust. He really was an efficient person.

I looked up at my future place of employment. Benevolence Middle School had been closed for three years. It looked very desolate from the outside. The gate was covered with dust and cobwebs. Evidently no one had come here for a long time.

Looking at the locked door, I worried about how to get into the school. Since Princ.i.p.al Zhang had rented the school cla.s.sroom, couldn't she also have hired someone to manage the door?

Seeing that the cla.s.s's start time was approaching, I took out my phone and sent a message to Princ.i.p.al Zhang: The gate of Benevolence Middle School is locked. How can I get in?

Princ.i.p.al Zhang must have been keeping an eye out for news of her new employee. She immediately replied: The east side, a little door.

Then she sent another message: The students are very naughty and may pretend to be ghosts to scare you. If you are not afraid, it will be OK.

Of course I wouldn't be afraid of some pranks. When I was a student, the male students often played pranks to scare people.

I quickly ran to the east side with my book bag on my back. I did indeed see a small red door standing open. It looked like the red paint hadn't dried yet. I took out a tissue paper from my bag and pushed the door open with the paper to prevent the paint from getting on my hands.

The Fourth Cla.s.s, Third Year cla.s.sroom was very easy to find. That cla.s.sroom was the only place in the whole school where the lights were on. I could see it as soon as I looked up.

Thinking that the students would be waiting for me in the cla.s.sroom, I felt hurried and rushed inside. The automatic door opened for me.

The hall and corridor were unlit. The Fourth Cla.s.s, Third Year cla.s.sroom was on the fourth floor. I didn't dare to walk too fast in the pitch-black surroundings. First I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight to illuminate the first flight of stairs. Then I climbed up.

Every time I went up a flight, I first lit up the whole stairwell to make sure of my path before I started climbing. When had I climbed halfway between the third and fourth floor, I saw something in the corner of the stairwell. The flashlight wasn't bright enough to see it clearly. I went up to the corner and saw a red dress.

No, it was a girl in a red dress.

Her hair was black and long and worn loose, screening her face, and her skirt was very long. At first glance, I could only see the striking red in the dark, which had made me mistakenly think it was only a dress in the corner.

The middle of the night, an abandoned school, a dark corridor, and a red dress in the corner. It really did seem like a ghost story. A timid person could really be frightened to tears.

I walked up in front of the girl and asked, "Are you one of the students for tonight's cla.s.s?"

The girl still had her hair screening her face. She quietly said, "Yes."

If I hadn't met Li Yuanyuan before, I might have thought there was something dangerous about this girl.

Thinking of Mr. Saw and Li Yuanyuan, I thought that it really wasn't easy for the students of this school. They probably didn't like going out and talking to people. I didn't force the girl to push her hair aside. "I'm the teacher tonight, Shen Jianguo. Just call me Teacher Shen. Why don't you come into the cla.s.sroom instead of sitting out here alone? Aren't you scared?"

The girl shook her head. Her long black hair rippled like a waterfall.

When I saw her beautiful hair, I couldn't help envying. That hair was so thick. There could be no thought of baldness. I touched my forehead. I'd been going to sleep late the last few days. Tomorrow would be the weekend. I hoped Princ.i.p.al Zhang could arrange some cla.s.ses during the day to let me adjust my schedule and save my hairline.

"If you're not afraid, you should come to cla.s.s."

She didn't speak, but reached out towards me. In contrast to her long black hair, her hand was very white, seeming to shine in the dark.

Long straight black hair, white skin, a slender figure. This female student had the three requirements of a beauty.

"Are you worried about not being able to see your way?" I naturally took the girl's hand. "Look down while you walk. Be careful."

I led her up the stairs by the hand. She followed me. When climbing the last step, she suddenly said quietly, "Teacher, did you count the steps when you went upstairs?"

"I was in a hurry to get to cla.s.s. I didn't have time to count."

I wanted to go on, but the girl didn't move. She was pretty strong. I yanked her hand, but I couldn't budge her. She only stayed on the last step.

"Teacher, I counted," she said obstinately. "All the other flights have twelve steps. If it gets to thirteen, you'll meet a ghost."

"It's normal for the stairs on the top floor to be a little higher, but that isn't kind to obsessive-compulsive disorder. I had a roommate in university who couldn't stand stairs with an extra step."

Hearing her, I could understand why she had stopped halfway up the third floor stairs. She was probably a more serious obsessive-compulsive disorder sufferer. The other flights had twelve steps, and the last one had thirteen. She felt uncomfortable and didn't want to go up.

What could I do? She didn't like it, I couldn't force her to walk up, but the students in the cla.s.sroom were waiting.

"Student, if you don't want to climb, I can carry you up the last step if you'll trust me," I suggested.

"Ha ha." She smiled, probably still not trusting me. After all, men and women should keep a distance. And she was a beautiful girl, and I was a man; my suggestion seemed like I meant to take advantage of her.

Behind me, she said, "Teacher, look at my eyes."

Naturally, I turned. I saw a blood red eye among her black hair.

I looked closely and nodded. "Your contact lenses are very beautiful, and the color matches your clothes very well."

It really was obsessive-compulsive disorder; she had to wear perfectly matching clothes, too. I looked down at her shoes, a pair of red high heels, very delicate. I added, "The shoes are also very beautiful. But let's go upstairs as soon as possible. The students are waiting. It's not good to delay today's cla.s.s. I know it's hard to climb the thirteenth step." I put forward another workable suggestion: "How about we go back down and count from the second step. Won't that be twelve? "

Many obsessive-compulsive disorder sufferers understand that their thoughts are wrong, but they still feel the discomfort. Under those circ.u.mstances, it can help to give them a reason to convince themselves.

After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "Teacher, aren't you afraid of me?"

That was interesting. Late night, a beautiful woman and a strong young man. Was I really the one who ought to be afraid?

It suddenly occurred to me: she had been blocking her face with her hair all the time. Was there some deformity on her face that made her think I would be afraid of her?

It was very likely.

"I'm not afraid," I said seriously. "I'm not afraid, no matter what you look like."

"What if I look like this?" She raised her head abruptly. A wind came out of nowhere to blow aside her beautiful long hair, revealing a b.l.o.o.d.y face.

She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, wrapping it around my neck.

It was a good act. I could almost have believed she was a ghost if Princ.i.p.al Zhang hadn't warned me in advance.

I grabbed the tongue and asked curiously, "Where did you buy this? It's very realistic."

After that, I pulled the fake tongue out of her mouth. The tongue was really well made. She screamed when it was pulled out. The girl tipped backward in response to the false tongue being pulled out. I quickly grabbed her to prevent her falling downstairs.

When I pulled her up, she b.u.mped into my chest, and the blood from her makeup rubbed against my new white shirt.

For the first day of cla.s.s, in order to make a good impression on the students, I had bought a new shirt and put on a suit to attend cla.s.s, but before I'd made it the last step to the cla.s.sroom, the white shirt was ruined.

My heart ached over the price of the shirt.

Was that a work-related injury? Could Princ.i.p.al Zhang reimburse me for my shirt along with the toilet?

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to take advantage of you. I was afraid you would fall down." I quickly released her, took a tissue out of my bag, handed it to her and said, "Go on and clean up your face. You're such a beautiful girl. It's not good for your skin to wear makeup like this."

"It's not makeup." She quietly looked up and showed me her b.l.o.o.d.y face. "I was standing on the tracks dressed in red. The train went by. I was covered in blood, not just my face, my whole body."

"Fine, fine." I nodded perfunctorily and wiped her face with the tissue.

It really was realistic. It smelled just like blood.

After wiping with the dry tissue, I took out a moist towelette to wipe it again. The girl's true features were finally revealed. She was indeed a beautiful girl, with big eyes, white skin, a high nose and melon-shaped face. She looked about seventeen or eighteen.

She quietly watched me wipe her face, her eyes with their red contacts showing a trace of emotion.

"You're very similar to the mortician who sewed up my body and made me all beautiful when I went. I was watching. I felt very grateful to him." The girl's voice became calm.

Although her words made no sense, I could only go along with them. "Why did you want to commit suicide on the tracks?"

"I was pregnant," she said, touching her stomach. "He not only refused to recognize it, he beat me and made me lose the baby. I missed the university entrance exam. Everyone knew that I'd had a miscarriage. I had no way to go on with my life."

No wonder she had enrolled in Princ.i.p.al Zhang's school and was out here frightening the new male teacher in the middle of the night. She must bear a grudge against men.

I felt a little pity for this poor girl. She was so young. She hadn't yet learned to protect herself when she met someone who couldn't cherish her and had hurt her like this.

I stretched out my hand, saw that she didn't react, and stroked her hair. "There's nothing in the world you can't get past. When you think the sky is falling down, it's actually the beginning of a new life."

I was about to say something else encouraging when suddenly a beam of golden light flashed by. A wooden sword appeared from nowhere, pointing towards the girl.

I hurriedly pulled the girl behind me. When the wooden sword touched my clothes, it immediately bounced back. The golden light shone above me. A young man in a yellow robe came out of the shadows and pointed at the girl behind me with the wooden sword. He said, "Doing evil again, foul creature!"

"..."

I grabbed the young man's wooden sword and recognized him as the professional who'd taken Mr. Saw away the other day. I inadvertently asked, "Did you go to the wrong film set?"