The evening sky was a pale gray as Liang Zhenyu stepped out of the school car in front of Xiao Meng Dormitory (宿舍小梦).
The four-story building stood quietly, watching him like an old man in meditation. Its paint was faded, the wooden dorm sign hung crooked, and the wind carried a faint scent of incense, along with the distant ringing of temple bells.
A dorm staff member handed him a key without much eye contact. His voice low, almost cautious.
"Room four-oh-four," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"All other rooms are full. Only that one's left…"
Zhenyu glanced at the elevator panel.
The button for the 4th floor? Didn't light up.
"Back stairs," the staff whispered. "But... don't look back if someone calls your name."
The back stairwell was narrow and damp. The flickering lights buzzed quietly, and with every step, Zhenyu felt like he was descending—not ascending.
The fourth floor was silent.
The hallway was long, dim, and empty. Only one door was slightly ajar: Room 404.
He swallowed. Slowly entered.
The room was neat, but clearly old. A dusty wooden bed, a fragile wardrobe, and a small study desk. Everything looked untouched for years.
Then...
The fan in the corner started spinning.
No cord.
No plug.
He approached it, confused, reaching for the base.
But—there was no wire at all.
On the desk, a yellowed slip of paper lay under the lamp. Written in sharp black ink:
"Welcome, Successor."
"Successor to... what?" he muttered.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
Something was shaking from inside the wardrobe.
Suddenly—
the wardrobe door creaked open.
And out stepped a young man wearing Qing dynasty robes, his hair tied in a traditional topknot, his face pale, his feet floating above the floor.
"Bro..." he muttered, annoyed.
"Did you bring a router? Wi-Fi here sucks."
Zhenyu staggered back and grabbed a chair.
"WHO—WHAT—WHO ARE YOU?!"
"Name's Mr. Gui," said the floating man casually. "Used to manage this place. Died in 1852. But don't panic—you're just the next in line."
And it wasn't just him.
Zhenyu heard soft footsteps behind. He turned—and saw a teenage girl standing by the desk. She had shoulder-length hair, a faded bow on her head, and a small, old-fashioned radio in her hand.
"Eh?" she murmured, pressing the button.
♫ Qi Li Xiang~ by Jay Chou played faintly.
She sighed. "Still broken…"
Zhenyu jumped back again, nearly slamming into the wardrobe.
"YOU AGAIN?! WHO ARE YOU NOW?!"
She smiled sweetly. "Xiao Lan. Don't yell like that... you'll wake grandma."
"GRANDMA?!"
As if summoned, a hoarse cough echoed from the bathroom.
An elderly woman appeared, shuffling slowly, holding a bowl of hot porridge.
"Such noise…" she grumbled softly.
"You're the new kid, aren't