8 Basement 2 of the 15th building

Before talking about where my friend currently lives, let me first tell you about him.

I met him in university, his full name is Zhu Changan, so I call him "Changan." He is also a sophomore at Saltwater University, a dashing young man, always dressed in branded clothing.

Although so far his speech has remained normal, in reality, he's a well-known "rich second generation," with his father holding an important government position and being extremely wealthy. I'm not sure exactly how wealthy they are, certainly beyond what an average student like me could fathom, and I have no interest in such matters. However, I occasionally hear someone refer to him maliciously as "Mr. Zhu" while at school.

Such malice is not entirely due to envy of the wealthy. If my reputation in school is just for being nonconformist, then Changan is the target of a thousand fingers pointed, simple envy does not suffice to describe it. The reason lies with him himself.

He's known as the school's "bad boy," often accused of bullying and stirring up trouble because of his father's higher position, and even rumors circulate that he often frequents unsavory places with his friends—places students shouldn't be seen in. Over time, this led to his ostracization by the majority of those who pride themselves on their integrity.

His bad reputation does, in fact, have some hidden stories, and indeed he has done some bad things, which is also how he and I came to know each other—we hit it off after a fight.

It would take too long to go into the story in detail here, so let's focus on his current residence for now.

Perhaps influenced by others, he shares my interest in urban supernatural tales to some degree, and since he didn't have any close friends at school, he rented an apartment off-campus. Coincidentally, in a regular residential area near Saltwater University, there was an apartment left vacant because someone had died there—on the fifteenth floor, considered high-rise living.

When I say "someone died there," I don't mean an elderly person passed away suddenly or that a tenant committed suicide by wrist cutting. I'm talking about a downright horrifying murder case that occurred.

The incident happened eight months ago. The previous tenant had been found gutted in the bathroom. The scene was incredibly bloody, frightening enough to make the next-door neighbor move out. The murderer's identity has remained a mystery, still at large to this day. It is completely understandable that no one dared to rent the place.

There were rumors that the apartment was haunted at night. I investigated and stayed there for three days and nights with nothing happening. That was just under two weeks ago. Afterwards, claiming to test his courage, Changan rented it and recklessly moved in.

"So now, does that mean the apartment really is haunted? Did the ghost of the former tenant come after you?"

"No, it's not that…" he shook his head repeatedly, "It's the basement, I found the basement."

"So, it's just the basement…" I first felt disappointed, then immediately noticed something odd, "…wait, did you just say 'basement'? In that apartment?"

"Yes, in that fifteenth-floor apartment."

He was still visibly shaken, trying to explain the sequence of events to me:

It all started the night before last when he saw a video on the internet about people cleaning old carpets. Carpets—especially fluffy ones—are prone to trap dirt, and the person who posted the video would take especially filthy carpets, clean them, and make videos about it. So after watching, he thought about the black fluffy carpet in his own living room.

It had been there since he moved in, passing through many tenants. Previously, he'd never paid it any mind, but he suddenly took issue with that carpet. Black is a color that hides dirt well, and it likely contained a lot of filth, perhaps even the blood of the previous tenant without his knowledge. He wanted to replace it.

When he lifted the carpet, however, the floor below revealed something that should not appear in everyday life.

It was a "Magic Array" intricately painted with black pigment.

Could it be a past tenant was consumed by juvenile fantasies about Black Magic, with this artifact a remnant of their obsession? It was not unreasonable for Changan to think so.

Soon, he noticed another item within the Magic Array that could not be ignored—a square wooden hatch roughly one meter on each side, set into the floor.

Driven by curiosity, he opened the hatch.

To his surprise, beneath the hatch was a staircase descending into darkness, deep and unseen.

He was taken aback.

Could this be a basement? But this is the fifteenth floor—how could there be a basement here?

He soon came up with a plausible explanation—the staircase probably led to the apartment below. Just to be safe, he didn't descend the staircase; instead, he went downstairs to inquire and, after receiving permission, went inside to check.

There was no staircase in the apartment below, nor was there any hole in the ceiling.

For a moment, he was engulfed by indescribable panic.

That dark staircase led to a space that did not exist in reality.

-

I was deeply intrigued by his description, and curiosity welled up within me.

"Have you been down there?"

Changan slapped the table, exclaiming uncontrollably, "How could I possibly go down there!"

The staff and customers in the tea restaurant all turned to look at him, and he coughed awkwardly, settling back in his seat.

"Anyway, I haven't gone down, and now I've temporarily moved to a nearby hotel. I really can't bear to continue living there," he explained, having regained his composure, "But I haven't given up the lease on the apartment yet, and I still have the keys."

I nodded, continuing to ask, "Then, have you tried to illuminate the space beneath the staircase?"

"I tried, the depth below must be over three meters, with a grey concrete floor at the bottom of the stairs," he said dejectedly, "Beyond that, I don't know. I didn't dare to go down and check."

"Have you told anyone else about this, besides me?"

"Yes, I told my sister about it yesterday, but she didn't believe me."

"You mean Zhu Shi? You also met with me during the day yesterday, didn't you? You told Zhu Shi but not me?" I was concerned.

Zhu Shi, also known as Changan's sister, was one year younger than Changan and me. I had met her several times before.

She had just started her freshman year at Saltwater University this year, and unlike the infamous Changan, the first impression she gave was reminiscent of brooks, clear springs, misty lake surfaces, and other such imageries—a delicately beautiful female student like one from an ink wash painting.

It was perfectly normal for her not to believe Changan. Or perhaps, it was normal for any sane person not to take Changan's stories at face value.

Changan quickly forced a laugh to shift the topic back, adding, "Also... the night I encountered that incident, I called the police right away."

"You called the police?" I frowned reflexively.

From my current standpoint, it was really hard for me to feel safe around the police.

"Then what? You told them weird events were happening in your house, and they actually came?"

"How could I say that directly? I just made up an excuse to get the police over at first. Then, when the police arrived, I lifted the carpet again right in front of them, and..." Changan's face turned even grimmer, "it disappeared—flew away without a trace, the wooden cover leading to the basement was gone, leaving only that suspicious magic array on the floor. I was nearly detained for making a false report."

Just then, he noticed the look on my face and quickly explained, "Wait, I'm not lying to you, I really saw the basement!"

"Although I would really like to believe you..."

In the past, many of the witnesses to supernatural events that I visited shared a common trait: they claimed to have encountered paranormal phenomena on certain occasions, but when I accompanied them, or when I investigated alone based on their leads, the supernatural phenomena would vanish without a trace.

Changan's present situation echoed peculiarly with those past experiences of mine: he claimed to have encountered strange phenomena, but these phenomena were only accessible to him, and they seemingly hid themselves when anyone else was present.

How could I possibly believe him wholeheartedly?

However, he was after all a friend of mine, and I wanted to extend to him the most basic level of trust.

"Believe me! I know you've been deceived by many people before, which is why I didn't talk to you at school yesterday. I was afraid you would lump me in with them!" he pleaded desperately, "But... but! Suddenly last night I couldn't let it go, and I felt that morally and rationally, I should consult with you. Right now, you might be the only one willing to believe me..."

"Suddenly last night?" I caught the key part, "Around what time?"

"Uh? Um... About ten o'clock?" he said uncertainly.

That was when I had just run into Mazao.

Supposing both Changan and Mazao were telling the truth, then I would have narrowly missed experiencing the weird event first-hand with Changan. But perhaps, due to Mazao's calamity-attracting nature, Changan's course shifted abruptly from afar, bringing the clues of the incident to my doorstep?

Changan's testimony was full of dubious points, yet it somewhat corroborated Mazao's story...

While pondering the logic between the two events, I said to Changan, "Words alone are not proof, take me to your place to have a look first."

"Sure, but..." he hesitated.

I retorted, "Isn't that the reason you came to find me? To have me accompany you back to that house?"

"...Yes. It definitely wasn't an illusion or a nightmare I had alone; it was a real, bizarre occurrence. I hope you can help me prove that... that's what I was thinking," he first acknowledged, then became more guarded, "But what if it doesn't show up again..."

"Just take me there," I insisted firmly, "I promise, even if there's nothing under the carpet, I won't blame you."

Having said as much, he couldn't argue further. After a quick meal in the diner, we headed towards the house together.

We passed through the entrance of the community, then through the security door of the apartment building, taking the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. Changan pulled out the key, unlocked the door to the target apartment, and led me into the living room.

They say it's a house where someone had died, but it looked no different from an ordinary home, with an added touch of life from Changan's recent stay. That is to say, there were a few more cluttered items, some wrinkled clothes on the sofa, and the trash can was filled with takeaway boxes stained with leftover food and rice.

Between the sofa and the TV, there was the black plush carpet he mentioned. It looked like a very ordinary, worn carpet, decorated with a few oversized coffee-colored English letters spelling out "carpet."

"So... I'm going to lift it now," Changan swallowed hard.

I didn't take the liberty in his home, and could only verbally urge him, "Go ahead."

It took him a good fifteen seconds to prepare mentally, then he stepped forward, crouched down, grabbed the edge of the carpet, and swiftly flipped it back.

Underneath the carpet, on the floor, was a complexly patterned magic array drawn with dark, grimy paint.

And at the center of the magic array, there was a light brown wooden cover.