"Run! Don't stop! The madwoman hanged in the hallway could be killed by him! It must be him!" Fear ignited a new strength within Tang Hanlu's frail body. She propped herself up with her elbows on the rough cement steps, gripping the rusted stair rail, moving more like a beast than a person, crawling upstairs in a bizarre posture.
"The scenes in my nightmares are nothing compared to now. I would rather this be a nightmare!" Tang Hanlu ran from the eighth-floor corner back to the tenth floor. As she passed the funeral wreath and the memorial photos again, a sharp pain pierced her brain; the two faces in the photos inexplicably filled her with dread.
This fear did not stem from sensing danger but rather from rejecting a tragic memory she deeply wished to forget, now being gradually awakened.
"So familiar, increasingly familiar. Why do I feel this strange emotion towards the middle-aged couple who died on the tenth floor?"
