Chapter 1: A Different Six O’Clock

June 2nd, Nanjiang No. 2 High School in Yunnan Province—three female students played the spirit board game in their classroom at exactly ten o’clock after evening self-study. Student A died on the spot. The other two returned home and died the next day. Before her death, the family of student B received a phone call from their daughter. She claimed, “There’s someone at home…I don’t know who. The door hasn’t opened, the windows haven’t opened. I checked all the doors and windows. There isn’t a soul here, and yet I can clearly hear breathing behind me.”

Two hours before student C’s death, C’s father received a call. She too said there was someone at home. She was doing homework by the window and felt someone was watching her from outside. Just standing there, silently watching—yet her home was on the sixth floor. Three hours after the call, C died at her desk with a look of abject terror.

Lines of text imprinted themselves on a pair of clear eyes, whose owner possessed an attractive countenance: soft facial contours, a face brimming with youthful vigor, eyebrows thick as swords yet not excessively sharp, ordinary straight student hair with slightly long bangs. He stood about one meter seventy-five tall.

Shielded by the upright book on his desk, he flipped through news on his phone with burning intensity, slender fingers gliding over the screen. He didn’t even lift his head.

July 8th, Paulownia High School, Jiangxi Province, Grade Eleven Class Three—sudden blackout for three minutes. No switch tripped anywhere in the neighborhood; inspections revealed no issue with the local power grid. The blackout coincided exactly with the three minutes after evening self-study ended. Nine students died, all smiling.

June 12th…

Swipe—the phone was snatched away before he’d finished reading. Qin Ye lifted his head slightly, the classroom’s scenery flooding his vision.

Qingxi High School, Qingxi County, Xiajiang City, Sichuan Province—the only high school in the county. In the bright, clean classroom, a blackboard covered in writing stood opposite him, with the glaring slogan “365 Days Until the College Entrance Examination” stuck to its surface. Above, the large words “Study Hard, Make Progress Every Day” were strikingly prominent.

The desks in the classroom were somewhat old, yellow paint peeling off to reveal dark brown wood beneath.

It was five in the afternoon, not long after the last class ended. Few remained in Grade 12 Class 2—just him and two tall, burly students slouching at the desk to his right.

On the left, the student had a crew cut, his school uniform wide open to reveal a faded, cheap silver-plated chain. The one on the right wore high-end clothes, with decent looks but a deliberately fierce expression and a forced sneer, making both look like crooked saplings.

Qin Ye’s heart skipped a beat.

Zhang Yilong and Wang Chenghao—the notorious troublemakers of the class. They fought, smoked, harassed girls, did everything imaginable. Qin Ye had always kept his distance, never crossing paths with them; he’d tried to stay as far away as possible. He hadn’t expected that, engrossed in his phone, he’d missed the chance to leave with his classmates.

Every school, every class has countless students like him—quietly suffering the antics of bullies, unable to speak out. School violence remains an unspoken shame in the world of education.

A cheap plastic lighter sparked a cheap Red River cigarette, its pungent smoke making Qin Ye frown before he quickly relaxed. Zhang Yilong feigned maturity, taking a drag and exhaling blue smoke with exaggerated flair, sneering at the phone in his hand. “Idiot, aren’t you?”

“Spirit board…nine female students died…tsk tsk tsk, anyone who believes this crap is a moron. How does news like this make the headlines? Those editors have nothing better to do.”

“I heard your family sells funeral wreaths?” Zhang Yilong eyed Qin Ye sideways. Qin Ye pressed his lips together. “Give me my phone.”

“Damn—” “Give it back to him.” Before Zhang Yilong finished, Wang Chenghao sat astride the desk, one foot propped on a chair, eyebrows raised at Qin Ye. “This kid’s got a temper. You think he’s like the fat one in class? Beat him and he won’t even fart?”

“Shit!” Zhang Yilong exhaled smoke onto Qin Ye, snorted, and turned away. He tossed the phone in an arc; Qin Ye snatched it from the air.

“Is there something you want?” Qin Ye slipped the phone into his pocket, suppressing his nervousness.

“Nothing…no big deal.” Wang Chenghao stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed, jumping down to sling an arm around Qin Ye’s neck. “Pretty boy, nothing serious. But today…me and Zhang Yilong are on cleaning duty. The guys have some plans later. How about you help out?”

Qin Ye’s eyes flickered as he glanced around the classroom. Sure enough, it was a mess; even the blackboard hadn’t been wiped.

“What are you planning?” He chose his words carefully. “School rules say we must leave by six. They’ve been broadcasting it every half hour for three days. If we stay, we’ll be expelled. I don’t have time.”

Before he’d finished, Wang Chenghao’s grip tightened, his voice dropping low. “Hmm?”

Qin Ye didn’t dare finish.

Wang Chenghao turned his head to take a drag, exhaling smoke in Qin Ye’s face, making him cough several times. Wang Chenghao’s voice was cold. “What’s this? I ask you for help and you think you can refuse?”

“Six o’clock—”

His words were cut off as Wang Chenghao’s arm squeezed his neck, draining the color from Qin Ye’s face and forcing him to swallow the rest. Zhang Yilong approached with a broom, tossing it at him. “Sweep!”

The command echoed in the empty classroom. Qin Ye bit his lip, broke free, and forced down his anger. “I’ll…sweep. But you need to help, or I won’t finish before six.”

“You stupid or what?” Wang Chenghao spat out his cigarette butt and crushed it. “Six o’clock means six o’clock? What’s the problem if we don’t leave? If you’re told to go, you go? Are you dumb?”

“Don’t act like you’re doing us a favor! We’re letting you sweep because we respect you! Stop whining! Sweep!”

Qin Ye took a deep breath, biting his lip. “Don’t you find it odd?”

“Since last week, supernatural events in the news have multiplied. The government used to ban these stories completely! The Ministry of Education even issued a directive this week—classes must end by four-thirty. Before, school ended at five-thirty! Now, leave before six, and if you don’t, stay in groups! The school broadcasts this every day. Do you really think they’re joking?”

Sudden silence.

Zhang Yilong and Wang Chenghao stared at Qin Ye as if he were a ghost. Seconds later, they burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! Ha ha ha!” “That’s priceless!”

“How can anyone believe this stuff nowadays?” “Damn…I can’t take it…this is hilarious!” “School rules tied to sensationalist news, what a wild imagination!”

They laughed like frogs, gasping for breath atop the desks. Qin Ye watched them with a blank expression and spoke quietly. “Today is the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month.”

“What…what’s that supposed to mean?” Wang Chenghao wiped tears from his laughter.

Qin Ye shook his head, solemn. “Mid-July—the time when ghosts roam and the gates of hell open. The Ghost Festival, one of the three great festivals for the dead.”

“Pfff! Hahaha! The Ghost Festival! I almost forgot that name! No wonder your family runs a funeral shop!” “Haha, Wang, it’s not a wreath shop—it’s the funeral business! You know nothing…damn, I can’t take it! Ha ha ha!”

Qin Ye sighed bitterly. Whether others believed or not, his family’s business made him err on the side of caution. But now?

How many people still believe in such things?

He silently picked up the blackboard eraser and set to work. Wang Chenghao and Zhang Yilong lounged on the desks, making no move to help. Instead, they lit another cigarette and laughed in hushed tones about his words. Snatches of “idiot,” “looks like a ghost himself,” drifted over.

Time passed by the minute. Qin Ye hardly expected their help, sweating as he cleaned. With graduation approaching, the blackboard was covered in dense writing, the floor littered with papers, torn test sheets, broken pencils, erasers—more than he could count.

“Phew…” He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he straightened his back, Zhang Yilong’s impatient voice rang out. “Are you done or what? How much longer? Sweeping the floor is this hard?”

Before he finished, the school broadcast suddenly blared.

“Attention students, it’s now six o’clock. The school solemnly reminds everyone to leave campus within twenty minutes—this is the final deadline. Anyone who violates will be expelled. The school bears no responsibility for the consequences.”

Qin Ye stood, the announcement echoing through the empty campus. Wang Chenghao and Zhang Yilong were unmoved.

“To any students still on campus, please leave before ten past six. Do not linger in rooms with many windows or those long closed. Avoid the old teaching building. Construction is underway—please stay safe.”

“All duty staff, form groups of five. The school guarantees no power outage tonight until five o’clock tomorrow morning. This announcement takes effect immediately; all staff must withdraw beyond the school grounds. There will be no night patrols.”

Unbeknownst to them, the same broadcast was playing across all 23 provinces, 661 cities, 1,636 counties, and 41,636 towns in the country.

At this moment, over a billion people across the nation—except those without electricity—heard it: taxi radios, subway speakers, home televisions, radio channels, without a single news story or even celebrity coverage interrupting. For five minutes straight, the broadcast looped.

“Attention, all city residents…do not go out after six-thirty, ensure indoor safety…”

“Attention, all county residents…find a lodging place before six-thirty. If staying with others, confirm their ID cards. After six-thirty, do not stay alone in a room. At least three per group…”

“Attention, all village residents…”

For no reason, Qin Ye shivered all over.

He didn’t know why, but after the broadcast, he felt the air turn cold.

It was a strange chill—not the cold of air, but a bone-deep chill. As if something clung to him, breathing deathly, icy air down his neck, making the hairs stand on end.

“Go!” Without another word, he grabbed his backpack and dashed for the door.

But his backpack was caught by something.

It sat on the desk, unmoving.