Chapter 4: The Twin Mystery
Auntie Zhao scolded me, "Look at you! If you'd left just a bit later, you could've run into Xiao Chen coming back."
"Xiao Chen was waiting to get his phone from you. You owe him compensation for his lost work hours!"
"Chen Chengwu" replied awkwardly, "What lost work hours? Auntie Zhao, you're joking. Sister Wu, can you return my phone?"
Terrified, I backed away. How could I dare reach into my bag in front of him?
My bag still had his family photo inside!
Stammering, I said, "P-phone! I left it in my room. Wait here, I’ll go get it!"
"I wasn’t trying to keep it!"
I rushed back to my room, pulled Chen Chengwu’s phone from my backpack, hesitated for a long moment, then forced myself upstairs.
The door to "Chen Chengwu’s" room was open, the faint scent of coffee lingering inside.
After just a few days away, a seemingly expensive leather suitcase now sat under his single bed.
On the table was a coffee cup with a tiny spoon inside.
Under the dim light, Chen Chengwu cast a clear shadow behind him.
Ghosts don’t have shadows.
At the very least, he was alive.
Steadying myself, I handed him the phone.
Chen Chengwu took it with both hands, politely thanking me, "Thank you, Sister Wu."
Among my tenants, those younger than me all called me "Sister Wu."
Chen Chengwu had lived here for years. His "Sister Wu" had always carried warmth, sometimes even playful teasing—after all, we were the same age, with me just three days older.
But this polite, distant "Sister Wu" made me doubt again: Was this really Chen Chengwu?
Could it be his twin brother?
But that brother had died nearly twenty years ago!
A person whose household registration had been voided for two decades couldn’t just come back to life.
The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. Barely coherent, I blurted, "D-don’t mention it! If you need anything, just call for me! Don’t be shy!"
I practically tumbled down the stairs, now half-convinced by the "resurrected in the morgue" theory.
Because I knew the truth—the ambulance scene had been a complete act. There’d been no real attempt to save him.
Would he hold a grudge against me for treating his life so carelessly?
Back in my room, I gulped down soda to calm my nerves, then opened my laptop and searched: "Can corpse spots appear before death?"
The answers varied wildly, but one caught my eye:
Some near-death individuals can also develop livor mortis.
Maybe he’d been in a near-death or suspended state, and the shock of the morgue’s cold brought him back?
As I booted up my laptop, I suddenly remembered—a few days before the incident, he’d borrowed it to edit his résumé.
During our chat, he’d mentioned that food delivery wasn’t a long-term plan. His sister’s condition had improved, and he was even planning to rent a south-facing, well-ventilated room from me for her.
At the time, he’d logged into QQ and saved his password on my computer.
I logged into his account. His friend list was pitifully small, every name grayed out.
Not even a single "Sun" level—no surprise, given how little time or means he likely had for internet.
His QQ space, like his room, was practically blank.
The only trace was a single photo in his album, taken six months ago.
In it, he and a girl who looked just like him grinned at the camera, flashing peace signs.
The backdrop suggested Xishan Park.
The girl was frail, her face pale, her gaze dim.
She clung to him as if her life depended on it—clearly relying on him completely.
Early the next morning, I rode my e-bike straight to Xishan Park.
I’d saved the photo to my phone. With a recent image, I was sure I could find his sister.
Whether Chen Chengwu was alive or a ghost, real or fake—his sister would know.
But I’d overestimated my luck.
No one at the park—neither the water vendors, the ring-toss stall owners, nor the toy sellers—recognized the girl.
A fortune-teller at a nearby stall suggested I pay 20 yuan for a reading.
Out of options, I sat on his grimy little stool, scanned him the money, showed him the photo, and said, "I’m looking for someone."
I’d assumed these street fortune-tellers had razor-sharp memories—after all, scamming required keeping track of people’s lives.
But after an exaggerated display of finger-counting, the old man just said:
"The Azure Dragon occupies the East, belonging to the Wood element. Go where there are trees to the east."