I never believed in ghosts. Not until I saw Mr. Chen turn into a three-eyed toad and hop into a sewer grate.

It happened on a Tuesday. I was delivering dumplings to the Golden Phoenix restaurant when the air turned thick, like walking through syrup. The neon sign flickered, and suddenly the street wasn’t a street anymore—it was a narrow path between towering spirit walls, covered in glowing red talismans.

That’s when the girl appeared. She stepped out of a paper door that hadn’t been there a second ago, dressed in a qipao that shimmered like oil on water. 'You can see me,' she said, not surprised. 'Then you’re the one they’ve been waiting for.'

Before I could answer, the ground cracked open. Something with too many teeth started climbing out.

She grabbed my wrist. 'Run, David. Or everything burns.'

I should’ve dropped the dumplings. But I didn’t. And now the whole district knows I’m here.