Chapter 1

Three o'clock in the morning, at an old house in Taichung.

Kim So-heon was awakened by a strange sound of water leaking—the sound was like an old man with benign prostatic hyperplasia standing on the ceiling, trembling incessantly. He lay on the tatami mat, staring at the ever-expanding water stain on the ceiling for a full minute. The yellow marks at the edge of the water stain gradually outlined a pattern resembling a world map, with a drop of water "plop" falling precisely onto the spot on his forehead at the location of Madagascar.

"Hold."

Not long ago, Mr. Jin was pointing fingers in an office building in Beijing's CBD. Now, in an old house built during the Showa era, he offers the most sincere greeting to fate.

He reached for his phone; the screen was dimly lit—the live stream hadn't been turned off. The top right corner showed 23 online viewers.

Sparse comments floated by:

Is Mr. Jin still alive? I've been listening to the leaking sound for half an hour; my bladder is about to burst.

[Eight years after being laid off, my insomnia partner has changed from my wife's snoring to the leaky roof in Mr. Jin's house. And you know what? The sound is even more rhythmic.]

[Upstairs, the sound of water leaking reminds me of that old hydraulic press in our factory back in the day.]

Was I the only one who thought something floated past in the frame just now?

Jin Zhaoxuan rubbed his face, making his messy hair look even more like a bird's nest struck by lightning, and said hoarsely into the microphone, "Sorry everyone, the host has to go save the ceiling tonight..."

Before he could finish speaking, a comment suddenly popped up on the screen:

[Mr. Jin!!! There's a water ghost in a suit in the mirror behind you!!!]

Jin Zhaoxuan's spine creaked, as if a rusty hinge had snapped shut.

He slowly, very slowly turned his head.

Moonlight streamed through the torn paper sliding door, casting pale streaks of light across the floor. The room was empty except for him and a stack of AR devices printed with "Metaverse Empowering the Real Economy."

"Gentlemen," he chuckled dryly, "it's the 21st century, we need to talk about science..."

[What kind of science are you talking about! Look back at the camera!!!]

Jin Zhaoxuan frowned and held his phone up to his face.

In the live stream, behind him, in the broken full-length mirror he'd found at a flea market—

Standing there was a young man, soaking wet. His suit clung to his body, his hair was still dripping wet, and his face was as white as soaked noodles. Most importantly, the background in the mirror wasn't this room at all! It was a huge space filled with rusty pipes and valves dripping yellow water, with the outline of an old-fashioned water meter vaguely visible in the distance.

The comments section went wild instantly:

[Holy crap! Holy crap! Inside the old water tower in Tiexi District!!]

[This guy's suit is the wrong style! It looks like something from the Republic of China era!]

He's talking! His mouth is moving!

Jin Zhaoxuan's hand trembled, and the phone slammed against his collarbone with a thud, making him wince in pain. He shakily turned the volume up to the maximum.

"...Zzz...how could you..."

A damp, cold voice, carrying some kind of old-fashioned accent, drifted out, mixed with static:

"...living in my house?"

Kim So-heon's brain went blank for three seconds.

Subsequently, this highly educated engineering student, who firmly believed that matter determines consciousness, made a response most consistent with the scientific outlook on development—

He threw the phone like a grenade.

"Crack!"

The phone was slammed against the wall, and the last comment before the screen went black was: "President Jin, a materialist warrior will never be a slave!"

The world fell silent. Only the sound of the leaking water remained: drip, drip, drip, like a death knell to his sanity.

Five minutes later.

Jin Zhaoxuan crouched in the corner and picked up the wreckage of his phone. The screen was cracked with a lightning bolt-shaped pattern, yet it still lit up. He shakily tapped open the live-streaming app—the background displayed "Live-stream recording has been automatically saved."

He stared at the filename "3 AM_Supernatural Events Record.mp4" for two minutes, mentally preparing himself before clicking on it.

The scene is reproduced.

A soaking wet young man from the Republican era, a rusty industrial backdrop, and shadowy lighting.

And then there's that line with its own built-in reverb: "Why are you living in my house?"

Jin Zhaoxuan paused the video and zoomed in. The man had delicate features, with a gentle, scholarly air that seemed to come from an old photo album. Although his suit was soaking wet, it was impeccably tailored and definitely not a cheap knock-off from Taobao.

"Hallucination," he muttered to himself. "It must be because of the immense pressure to secure funding, plus the formaldehyde levels in this dilapidated house being too high..."

He decided to go to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water to calm his nerves.

As he walked down the corridor, he glanced at the full-length mirror out of the corner of his eye.

In the mirror, behind him—

The wet young man tilted his head, curiously examining him, and casually wrung out the water from the hem of his suit jacket.

Jinzhaoxuan Petrochemical.

He turned his head in slow motion.

There was nothing behind him.

Turn back to look in the mirror.

The young man was still there, and even... winked at him, water droplets rolling down his eyelashes.

Jin Zhaoxuan took a deep breath and did the most absurd thing he had ever done in his life—

He looked in the mirror and said in a business negotiation tone, "Sir, are you a real person or a virtual image?"

The person in the mirror was taken aback, then chuckled: "If I were a physical being, could I stand in the mirror and chat with you?" The voice rang out directly in the air, carrying a misty, watery quality.

“That makes sense.” Jin Zhaoxuan steadied himself against the wall. “Then you are… a spirit?”

“Calling it a ghost is fine too.” The other person smiled good-naturedly, “but I think ‘spacetime-sustaining energy body’ sounds more academic.”

"You're quite particular," Jin Zhaoxuan blurted out, then quickly added, "Excuse me, I meant is there an official title?"

“Yin Shaoqing.” The person in the mirror nodded slightly. “Yin as in Yin Shang, Shao as in Shaoxing, and Qing as in minister. He has been staying here for eighty-three years, seven months, and five days.”

"You remember it so clearly?"

"When you can only count how many drops of water are dripping from the pipe each day, the time will be accurate to the second."

Jin Zhaoxuan fell silent. He looked around at the old house with its peeling walls, then at the drenched young man in the mirror who had been trapped for over eighty years, and suddenly felt a surge of sympathy—both were unlucky souls trapped by the times.

"So this house really is yours?" he asked.

“It was built by my father.” Yin Shaoqing’s gaze drifted into the distance. “After 1945, I wandered around here…”

"Do I need to move out?" Jin Zhaoxuan said, having given up entirely.

Yin Shaoqing was stumped. He stared at Jin Zhaoxuan for a long time, then chuckled, "Whether you move or not, I can't get out. This mirror, this house, and that water tower in the distance... are my 'anchor points'."

Jin Zhaoxuan looked out the window at the dark silhouette of the water tower in the night: "So, the background of the live stream..."

“These are fragments of my memories,” Yin Shaoqing said softly, “the last place I was.”

The air was still for a few seconds.

Jin Zhaoxuan walked back to the tatami mat, took out a cigarette case, shook it, lit one, and took a deep drag: "Jin Zhaoxuan. Jin (金) with the radical 'Zhao' (肇) meaning 'beginning' and Xuan (轩) meaning 'Xuanyuan'."

"A good name," Yin Shaoqing smiled. "It has the spirit of creating something from nothing."

"Damn it." Jin Zhaoxuan exhaled a smoke ring. "The company is about to collapse."

"company?"

"I work on AR." Jin Zhaoxuan kicked the equipment box next to his feet. "I wanted to use digital technology to revitalize the history of the old industrial area, but after the investors listened to the pitch, they all suggested that I write a novel."

Yin Shaoqing's eyes suddenly lit up: "AR? Is it a technique that can project illusory images into reality?"

"You know?"

"I've watched TV in the mirror for decades." Yin Shaoqing said a little embarrassedly, "Although the signal is intermittent, I've also seen cell phones, Wi-Fi, and that... square dance live stream."

Jin Zhaoxuan stared at him, a sudden realization dawning on him: "Was it you who manifested in the live stream just now?"

"I sensed that the little box could connect to the outside world, so I gave it a try," Yin Shaoqing confessed. "I didn't expect it could actually communicate with living people; it was quite interesting."

“If you give it a try, my live stream might be on the social news front tomorrow.” Jin Zhaoxuan wiped his face. “I’ve already thought of the title: ‘Young Entrepreneur Suffers Cross-Industry Attack from a Republican-Era Water Ghost.’”

Yin Shaoqing asked blankly, "What do you mean by 'cross-border attack'?"

“Well…” Jin Zhaoxuan waved his hand, “Never mind. Anyway, can you give me a heads-up next time you show up? I haven’t saved enough money to get a heart stent yet.”

Yin Shaoqing readily agreed: "Okay."

“However—” Jin Zhaoxuan’s eyes darted around, “if planned properly, perhaps we could… create some unique content? Haven’t you been here for over eighty years? Tell us some stories about old Anshan?”

“There are many stories.” Yin Shaoqing nodded, then hesitated, “But ordinary people are afraid of ghosts…”

"Fear is what makes it exciting!" Jin Zhaoxuan slapped his thigh. "It's settled then! You will be my special guest in the live broadcast room—Professor Yin, the consultant on the history of the Republic of China!"

Yin Shaoqing smiled, a smile as pure as the moon after it has been washed clean: "Okay."

The next morning, Jin Zhaoxuan was woken up by the cold.

He opened his eyes to find the radiator ice-cold, grumbled as he got up, and froze the moment he stepped into the living room—

Yin Shaoqing was spread-eagled up on the radiator, his face pressed against the iron pipe, his expression as devout as if he were listening to a divine decree.

"Teacher Yin... what's wrong?"

Yin Shaoqing looked up, his eyes shining brightly: "Mr. Jin! This thing is exquisite! It generates heat at night, a hundred times better than the coal stove in my childhood home!"

Jin Zhaoxuan: "..."

"Why is it so chilly this morning?" Yin Shaoqing patted the radiator. "Shouldn't we add some coal?"

Jin Zhaoxuan sighed, "This is central heating... for heating water."

Where does the hot water come from?

"Thermal power plant."

What is a thermal power plant?

Looking at this scholar from the Republican era who knew nothing about modern technology but could recite the parameters of the blast furnace at Showa Steel Works, Jin Zhaoxuan suddenly felt that the future might be even more magical than a fundraising roadshow.

"We'll explain this to you gradually," he said listlessly. "I'll find someone to fix the pipes first. By the way, are you available during the day?"

“When the sunlight is strong, the shadow will be fainter,” Yin Shaoqing said, his whole body already becoming almost translucent. “And you can’t be too far from the mirror.”

Jin Zhaoxuan nodded and walked towards the bathroom, turning back at the door: "Why don't you come up... for a shower? Although it might not be of much use."

Yin Shaoqing looked down at his soaking wet suit and smiled wryly, "It hasn't dried in eighty years, I'm used to it."

The doorbell rang loudly as soon as he finished speaking.

Jin Zhaoxuan glanced at the wall clock—7:30. He leaned closer to the cat's eyes and was terrified.

It's his mother.

"Teacher Yin! Quickly, leave!" Jin Zhaoxuan whispered, "Go back inside the mirror! Don't come out!"

Although confused, Yin Shaoqing obediently floated back into the mirror. The mirror surface returned to its normal state.

Jin Zhaoxuan took three deep breaths and opened the door.

"Mom, it's so early..."

"What do you mean 'early'?!" Jin's mother squeezed in carrying two large plastic bags. "I brought you sauerkraut and frozen dumplings! Stop eating that rubbish takeout all the time!"

As she spoke, she changed her shoes, and suddenly her nose twitched.

"Son, why does this room... smell like rust?" She looked around suspiciously, her gaze settling precisely on the full-length mirror. "And there's a hint of... sulfur?"

Jin Zhaoxuan's back was sweating: "The water pipes in the old house are leaking..."

“No, that’s not right.” Mrs. Jin walked straight to the mirror and stared at its surface. “This mirror… Have you heard the rumors about the old houses in Taichung being haunted?”

“That’s all feudal superstition…” Jin Zhaoxuan chuckled dryly.

In the mirror, Yin Shaoqing's silhouette quietly appeared behind Jin Zhaoxuan, and he nodded politely to Jin's mother.

Mrs. Jin suddenly turned around!

Jin Zhaoxuan stepped forward and blocked the mirror: "Mom! I'll cook dumplings for you! Sauerkraut filling!"

Mrs. Jin stared at him for a long time, then suddenly sighed: "Son, tell me the truth, is the company going to go bankrupt?"

"good……"

"Fine my ass!" Jin's mother slammed the plastic bag on the table. "Your dad smoked all night last night and said if you really can't take it anymore, come home and I'll make you some pork ribs and green beans."

Jin Zhaoxuan's nose stung with tears, and he turned his face away, saying, "I'm really fine."

Just then, Jin's mother's phone rang; her mahjong friends were urging her to play. She answered the phone as she walked out, saying, "Hurry up and cook the dumplings! We're coming home this weekend! Did you hear me?"

"I heard it, I heard it."

The door closed. Jin Zhaoxuan slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh.

Yin Shaoqing slowly appeared in the mirror, cautiously asking, "Was that your mother just now?"

"Hmm." Jin Zhaoxuan walked towards the kitchen. "Did I scare you?"

"How could I dare?" Yin Shaoqing paused. "Your mother...does love you very much."

"He just worries too much." Jin Zhaoxuan boiled water and then suddenly fell silent.

Yin Shaoqing said softly, "It is a blessing to have someone who cares about you."

Jin Zhaoxuan turned around. In the morning light, Yin Shaoqing's figure was as faint as a wisp of mist, and there was a bottomless loneliness in his eyes.

“You…” Jin Zhaoxuan opened his mouth.

"What kind of filling do the dumplings have?" Yin Shaoqing asked with a smile, changing the subject.

"Pickled cabbage and pork." Jin Zhaoxuan opened the refrigerator. "Would you... like to smell it?"

Yin Shaoqing really leaned close to the mirror and took a deep breath—even though he couldn't smell anything.

But he smiled contentedly: "It smells delicious."

Jin Zhaoxuan looked at him and suddenly grinned: "I'll be doing a live stream in a bit, and Teacher Yin will tell you all about how people in Anshan survived the winter during the Republic of China era?"

"Great!" Yin Shaoqing's eyes lit up. "Could you also tell me about the radiators? They're truly ingenious!"

Jin Zhaoxuan: "..."

The water boiled, and white steam rose. He suddenly felt that this leaky, haunted old house wasn't so unbearable after all.

After all, not everyone can have a top student from the Republican era as a roommate—even if that roommate is a wet, radiator-obsessed, and over eighty-year-old water ghost.