The teachers' office building was newly constructed this summer break, and the formaldehyde smell hadn't completely dissipated, leaving it sparsely populated.
The people's teacher, Shi Qingsong, holding a stack of documents, stood in front of the elevator and pressed the button.
He wore round-framed glasses and a dark-colored shirt, his hair neatly combed. His face was serene and composed, carrying a refined and amiable bearing, reminiscent of a learned professor from a Republic of China photograph.
In dealings with others, he was known for his kindness, frugality, and deference. The middle-aged Shi Qingsong was always seen as a good teacher by students, a good subordinate by leaders, a good husband by his wife, and a good father by his children.
As the elevator descended from the upper floors, with a DING, the doors slowly opened.
Standing in the corner of the elevator was a person wearing a yellow construction helmet, a worker's blue uniform, and trousers stained with large splotches of black sludge. His protective gloves were worn beyond recognition.
An ordinary construction worker, only his face was covered with a white mask, concealing his age and features.
Is the building still under renovation?
Shi Qingsong wondered silently as he stepped into the elevator and was immediately assaulted by the pungent smell of construction materials.
Without a doubt, the source of the odor was the worker, who seemed to sense Shi Qingsong's gaze and awkwardly stepped back.
Shi Qingsong coughed awkwardly and smiled an embarrassed yet polite smile, suppressing his breathing as he reached to press the button for the first floor.
The elevator continued its descent. In the confined space, the pungent smell grew even stronger, as if it would penetrate one's nostrils, seep into the throat, and corrode the lungs.
Shi Qingsong pretended to shift his feet nonchalantly, moving away from the source of the smell while using the documents in his hand to shield his nose as he breathed slowly.
DRIP. DRIP.
The sound of liquid dripping.
Shi Qingsong didn't turn around; using the elevator's mirror-like walls, he could see a dark liquid slowly dripping from the worker's trouser legs.
Mud?
The teacher pursed his lips and clutched the documents in his hands more firmly, silently wishing for the elevator to reach the bottom sooner.
DRIP. DRIP.
More and more of the black, muddy water dripped, quickly accumulating into a large puddle at the worker's feet. It soon claimed most of the elevator floor. Simultaneously, the pungent smell grew more intense, almost as if it were stinging the skin and seeping into the heart.
What's happening?!
Shi Qingsong took two steps back, dodging the encroaching liquid while staring at the silent worker.
That look nearly stripped Shi Qingsong of half his soul.
The construction worker's eyes were lifeless, pupils cloudy and dilated, with blood-red surrounding the jet-black irises.
Those were the eyes of a dead man!
Shi Qingsong felt his skin crawl, and suddenly he recalled a piece of news related to this building.
Just two months ago, the road in front of the building was being repaved. A road construction worker was standing beside a tar and chippings spreader when, suddenly, one side of the truck's axle broke. The truck's bed tilted, pouring scalding tar and fine gravel over half of the construction worker's body.
The construction team rushed forward to attempt a rescue, but due to the high viscosity and pressure of the tar, mixed with too many small stones, they couldn't pull the worker free.
Moreover, the hot asphalt was thick and scalding. It couldn't be cut by machinery and had to be chiseled away with hoes and shovels.
After digging for over ten minutes, the worker was finally excavated, but his lower body had been cooked alive by the hot asphalt. There was no chance of saving him.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the worker had gone into shock and lost consciousness within minutes of the incident, so he hadn't suffered too much pain. The construction company paid a substantial sum to his family as compensation.
To avoid negative publicity, the school strictly prohibited those in the know from divulging any information. School staff were also forbidden from discussing it amongst themselves. Shi Qingsong, one of the few privy to the incident, would always quicken his pace whenever he walked past the road in front of the teachers' office building.
DRIP. DRIP.
His thoughts snapped back. Black, turbid droplets poured down from the construction worker's trouser legs like a mini waterfall—a mixture of hot asphalt and blood.
Blistering hot, viscid, with an acrid smell filling the air, faintly accompanied by the aroma of roasting meat.
The construction worker took a step forward. The asphalt beneath his feet was as sticky as glue, tearing apart the rubber soles of his shoes and the tough fabric of his work clothes.
As if oblivious to the scalding heat of the asphalt, he took another step forward. The highly adhesive asphalt clung to his exposed skin like countless large hands gripping tightly.
Moving his thighs, which were now stripped to the muscle, the worker walked unhurriedly towards Shi Qingsong.
"Aaaaahh!!"
Shi Qingsong screamed in utter terror, devoid of any scholarly elegance and amiability.
He desperately backed away, pressing his back against the elevator doors, while his trembling fingers frantically hit the emergency button inside the elevator.
His feet stood on the only spot not submerged by the asphalt, an isolated island.
DING-DONG.
The elevator bell rang; the first floor had been reached.
As the doors opened, Shi Qingsong, his glasses askew, let his documents scatter as he hurriedly pried the elevator doors open and rushed out.
He forgot one thing.
When he was a child, his grandmother told him never to run upon encountering malevolent spirits because when running, a person's heel lifts up, and the spirits would take the opportunity to place their own toes underneath the lifted heel to take possession of the person's body.
In his blind spot behind him, the worker's body in the elevator stood rigid, on tiptoe like a motionless ballet dancer, lightly floating out of the elevator.
The lobby on the first floor was deserted and eerily quiet, only Shi Qingsong's frantic footsteps broke the silence.
Soon, very soon, he would burst through the doors and be enveloped in the sun's rays.
Finally, at the very moment his fingertips touched the door handle, the ghost's toe deftly found its place under Shi Qingsong's lifted heel.
CLICK!!
Shi Qingsong, who was running wildly, abruptly stopped. Expressionless, he stood up straight and walked over to the wall of the teachers' office building's lobby. Using the reflection in the wall tiles, he leisurely straightened his glasses, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and meticulously combed his hair.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
"Shi Qingsong," now eerily calm, turned around and walked back to the elevator. Everything inside appeared normal, with not a drop of asphalt or blood to be seen.
He squatted down to pick up the papers that had scattered on the floor and gathered them into his arms.
From an angle invisible from the elevator, "Shi Qingsong" laughed manically, his creepy smile nearly stretching to his ears.