As I drove into the construction site, Taylor Turner stood in front of my car, flanked by four or five burly men blocking my way.
He looked at me and said, "Kid, let me give you some advice—don’t risk your life for a little bit of cash!"
Taylor Turner was dressed in a dark red Tang suit. His hair was as white as snow, but his face was oddly full and rosy, making it impossible to guess his age.
His eyes were cloudy, like those of a centenarian, and his pupils, small as green peas, darted around restlessly, staring so intently it made people uncomfortable.
"Uncle Long, maybe we should just leave? I don’t want to cause you any trouble," Tori Song shrank into the passenger seat, her spirit nearly broken, but still worried about being a burden.
Outside, the four or five burly men had already surrounded the front of our car.
One of Taylor Turner’s disciples, a scrawny guy who looked like a monkey, hopped in place and shouted at me, "My master’s just being kind and warning you! I’m telling you, don’t be stupid!"
"Uncle Long…" Tori Song was terrified, her eyes red, about to beg me to give up.
I reassured her, "Don’t worry, it’s fine. Just stay in the car and don’t get out."
I opened the door and stepped out in just two strides. The burly men who had been advancing suddenly froze. Maybe they hadn’t gotten a good look at me while I was in the car.
I was born with an unusual appearance—fierce-looking, and much taller and bigger than most people.
Since I was a kid, people have compared me to Casey Cooper or Alex Reed.
Even though those men were a head taller than the other workers around, standing in front of me, they looked like kids who hadn’t grown up yet.
Each of them held a rubber baton, while I casually grabbed a steel bar from a pile of materials nearby.
"Hey, hey, let’s not fight, let’s not fight!" Alex Johnson, the site manager, who had been standing nearby scratching his head, rushed over to break things up as soon as he saw the situation. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s talk this out, let’s talk this out!”
At this point, Alex Johnson was caught between a rock and a hard place. Taylor Turner had been brought in by the construction company’s boss, so Alex didn’t dare offend him. But on the other hand, the whole site was in chaos—no one dared to work. The workers were whispering that the empty coffin would eventually "devour someone." If it wasn’t removed soon, someone was bound to die.
What’s more, the police had already traced the origins of the five coffins.
Four of the deceased inside still had family back in their hometown, and the police had asked the site to help return the coffins.
But with things as they were, not a single driver on site dared to touch the five coffins, let alone transport them.
I, a freelance truck driver who’d shown up on my own, must have seemed like a godsend to Alex Johnson.
If I walked away today, he had no idea how much money he’d have to spend to find another driver willing to take this job.
Taylor Turner looked me up and down, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Well, well, you look like a real demon. No wonder you’re bold enough to wade into these murky waters. But kid, don’t think a little hot blood is enough to let you do as you please!”
He declared, “These five coffins—I won’t let you touch them, and you won’t be able to, either!”
I gripped the steel bar tighter and stepped forward. No one dared block my way.
Taylor Turner just shot me a glance, but I walked right past him, heading straight for the pit where the five coffins had been unearthed.
It was high noon, the sun blazing down. The pit was wide open, with nothing to shield it, and the five bright red coffins lay exposed under the scorching light.
In fact, these five coffins had been buried for twenty years. The red lacquer on their surfaces was already mottled, but for some reason, the color seemed to have seeped deep into the wood. From a distance, the coffins looked as if they’d been soaked in blood, making it hard for anyone to look at them directly. I was about to jump down into the pit when an older worker hurriedly stopped me.
He looked conflicted, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should interfere, but in the end, his conscience wouldn’t let him stay silent.
He warned me, “Think carefully, kid. Both guys who dug up these five coffins ran into trouble. One of them fell into a pile of bricks in broad daylight and broke several ribs. The other, for no reason at all, jumped off the scaffolding in the middle of the night—he’s still in a coma.”
I nodded my thanks, but still jumped down into the pit.
As I got closer to the five coffins, I caught a faint scent in the air.
That scent made my heart tremble, because I’d smelled it before—on Tori Frost.
I didn’t really know Tori Frost, and I wasn’t helping her this time for the money.
Seven days ago, my daughter went downstairs to buy some yogurt. A drunk driver swerved onto the sidewalk. She had just stepped out of the supermarket when the car came barreling straight at her. She’s only eleven—there was no way she could react in time.
When I got the call and rushed to the scene, my heart felt like it was about to explode. The ground was littered with broken pieces of bumper and headlight, glaring skid marks streaked through a pool of bright red blood.
My wife passed away early, leaving me with a son and a daughter. If anything happened to my little girl, I don’t know what I’d do.
But thankfully, she only suffered a few scrapes—nothing serious.
In that critical moment, a young woman passing by had thrown herself in front of the car to save my daughter. That woman was Tori Frost.
But when the ambulance arrived, Tori Frost had already disappeared, leaving only a pool of blood on the ground.
I followed the trail of blood to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building.
At that moment, Tori Frost was about to take her own life—her emotions must have been at the breaking point.
She needed someone to talk to. Using my daughter as a reason, I slowly approached her.
She was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, blood streaming down, and she told me her story. Tori Frost was never a weak person. Orphaned at a young age, she grew up in a children’s home, and for the past two years, she’d been juggling work and school, struggling just to earn a spot at a good university.
She always tried her best to live well, but three months ago, after a terrifying nightmare, her entire life changed.
Tori told me that on that afternoon, she suddenly heard the sound of firecrackers going off in the street. The explosions were loud, but there was something strange about them—almost as if they were moving, getting closer and closer to her.
She covered her ears, her mind growing hazy, and in the next instant, she found herself trapped in a pitch-black, cramped space—just big enough to lie down, with no room to stretch out her arms.
She reached out, feeling only hard wooden boards. Then the whole space began to shake, and she could vaguely hear people talking outside—even her roommate’s voice.
But what they were saying sent chills down her spine: “Seal the mouth tight, use wax to close it.”
She heard every word clearly… In that moment, terror overwhelmed Tori.
She pounded frantically on the wooden boards imprisoning her, but soon she felt the space growing hotter, and a scalding liquid began to seep in through a crack above her. It was wax—she couldn’t breathe!
Tori screamed, kicking and thrashing wildly. Just then, someone pushed her from behind, as if helping her escape that suffocating space.
In the instant she broke free, she turned back, wanting to see who had saved her—but when she looked, all she saw was… her own face!
After waking from that nightmare, Tori began to feel an inexplicable fear of her roommate and friends.
From then on, almost every night, she had similar nightmares—trapped in that cramped space for longer and longer, the suffocating feeling of dying growing more and more intense.
Each time, it seemed like another “her” would save her, but that “other her” would be left behind, trapped in that space forever. This made Tori constantly wonder if she had ever truly escaped.
Were her nighttime dreams actually reality, and everything during the day just a dream?
Her mental state grew weaker and weaker. The friends around her started acting strangely, as if someone was always secretly watching her.
She gradually became afraid to interact with anyone, and didn’t dare ask for help.
She thought she might be sick, worried that her erratic behavior would bother others.
She went to see a doctor and took all kinds of medication. At first, it helped a little, but soon her symptoms only got worse.