This is a story about renting a house.
A girl named Yuanyuan told me about something that happened when she went to Guangzhou to work.
When she first arrived, she found a job in a factory and lived in the dorm. Later, she started dating a boyfriend and wanted to move out so they could live together. She posted a rental request in a hometown chat group, She thought, "We're from the same hometown, so it shouldn't be easy to get scammed." Soon, a fellow townsman messaged her, "I have a local friend who has a place for rent. The price is really good." He gave her a contact number. That same day, she called the landlord and arranged to see the house after work.
Her boyfriend had to work late and couldn't come, so Yuanyuan took her best friend along. It was evening, and the sky was already getting dark when they arrived at an old residential neighborhood. The landlord was a plump woman in her fifties who spoke Mandarin with a strong Cantonese accent. After a few polite greetings, the landlord handed Yuanyuan a bunch of keys and said, "The apartment is in Building 8, Unit 305. You two can go check it out. I'll wait here."
Yuanyuan found it strange. "Auntie, shouldn't you show us the place?"
"Oh, I still have something to deal with," the landlord replied. "You can just go in and look."
Yuanyuan didn't think much of it. She and her friend went into the building.
The stairwell was dimly lit, as old buildings often are. They found the unit and used the key to unlock the door, but it wouldn't budge. It felt like something was holding it from the inside. At first, Yuanyuan thought the door opened outward, so she tried pulling instead. Still nothing.
She looked through the crack in the door. The inside was completely dark, and a cold, unsettling chill seemed to seep out.
That's when Yuanyuan made a terrible decision.
She stuck her hand through the door, trying to push whatever was blocking it away. Suddenly, she felt a hand. It was soft and furry, but icy cold—like touching a block of ice. Before she could react, the hand pulled back inside.
Yuanyuan froze for a few seconds, then let out a scream. She slammed the door shut, grabbed her friend, and ran. They stumbled through the dim stairwell as if something was chasing them. The cold feeling stuck to their backs, refusing to leave.
When they finally reached the ground floor, they collapsed on the curb, breathing heavily and pale as ghosts. An elderly woman sitting outside noticed their terrified faces and hurried over.
"Girls," she asked, "you came to rent a place, right? Did you go to 305?"
Yuanyuan nodded. Then she told her everything in detail.
The old woman rubbed her hands together, sighed, and said, "The landlord and I have been neighbors for decades. I don't want to say too much, but that place is haunted. Don't rent it."
Yuanyuan and her friend didn't even return the keys. They took a taxi and left immediately.
Back home, Yuanyuan grew more and more frightened as she replayed the memory. She eventually blocked the fellow townsman—realizing that sometimes people from your own hometown can be far less trustworthy than total strangers.