At half past two in the afternoon, the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows laid on the walls and blue flannel sheets, leaving patches of circular light of varying shades. In this small duplex apartment, everything is as quiet as a deep sleep, like a ghost cave full of intelligent plants in a fairy tale, quiet but different. On the coffee table in the living room is a black canvas bag, two open best-selling novels, a trash can stuffed with bags of fast food, and half a cup of Coke is sweetly left in the water glass, and the carbon dioxide has completely evaporated.

I broke free from the remnants of my shattered dreams and reached out to reach for my phone by the bedside.

Sure enough, the body was stuck in the bed again, and there was nothing to complain about about this kind of thing.

I expertly adjusted my position and floated my body up, a feeling I can't describe, like a hydrogen balloon that has forgotten its own weight and can soar up to 90,000 miles anytime and anywhere. Then I floated to the bedside table and watched my fingertips run through my phone and then straight into the bedside table, we couldn't feel each other's presence.

Well, I'll admit, I'm a ghost. Actually, I don't know what number of nouns is more appropriate for ghosts, we usually call others "bit", but I think a "bit" ghost is too decent to be old-fashioned, but to call yourself a "one" ghost will produce a four-legged association of a dog and a cat, and I feel playful and cute out of place. So, I'm going to introduce myself with a ghost.

Before I became a ghost, I was a human being, just like all of you, who was easily contaminated with cold and cold, and had to fight against the invasion of aging. But since my righteous and courageous defeat, my unexpected death has caused me to fall from the world I was living in, and fall into a parallel world in which I don't know where I am. What surprised me even more was that my soul had undergone some strange mutations in this world, causing me to live only in transparent ghost form during the day, and I would manifest uncontrollably at nightfall. It is for this reason that I, a staunch materialist, have to believe in the existence of ghosts and gods—at least I am a living example—that the light has become my tomb, and the night is my manifestant.

In order to pick up my phone, I had to concentrate all my energy on my fingers, until a few fingers were surrounded by a faint layer of gold, and there was some warmth. It's a method that I came up with when I came into this world, and when I had to be a ghost, I was always able to easily pass through the furniture room, through the crowd, and only by concentrating on a certain part of my body did they briefly become physical. So when I have to do something, like open the door with a key, eat with chopsticks, or put on a mask – who would have thought that a ghost would have to do such a thing – I have to be very focused, and it's very difficult.

I unlocked my phone with my password, and a few unread messages, some app pushes, and a transfer notification popped up. The information includes a weather forecast for my monthly subscription, a logistics delivery list for shopping, and a list of addresses from Guan Linlin. Click on the transfer record again, and 1,000 yuan has been quietly credited to the account.

Such a special sisterly relationship is really unpredictable, but at least she is willing to spend money for each other. I sighed, and I couldn't help but recall her bandaged face when I saw her last night, but the eyebrows and eyes were so similar to those in the Urban Pictorial that they were now a little blurred. I floated to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, trying to touch the bridge of my nose, which was not very high. My own hand passed through myself.

It's not a good job to be a ghost, especially if you have to be a ghost to support yourself. Once upon a time, when I was still alive, my grandfather would always tell me about his experience as a celestial master, and that he fought with many evil spirits in the end, and in the end, it all ended in a narrow victory. I haven't researched these fantasy stories of him, but my father, who is the inheritor of the Heavenly Master, doesn't seem to have so many remarkable stories, and his daily work is nothing more than going to the building where an accident has happened to do a ritual, or giving Feng Shui guidance to the developer - such a weak industry does not interest me, so I refuse to learn all the techniques of Qimen Dunjia, and I am extremely disgusted with the study materials produced by the Heavenly Master's Mansion.

The lack of effort in the past has become the bitter fruit that I have to swallow now. When I became a ghost myself, I wanted to shake off all the talisman skills I was forced to learn so that I could be a versatile and self-protective ghost. However, after a long period of meditation and continuous attempts, I only remember a few simple and unskilled techniques: such as the soul summoning technique that maintained a success rate of 52%, such as giving directions to other wandering ghosts, and helping others find cats.

"It's hard to get through boring days. "I drifted through the walls, through the ceilings of my upstairs neighbors, and through the concrete of the rooftop balconies, and the whole city suddenly appeared before my eyes, like a hot red sun leaping from the bosom of the sea. In my idle afternoon, the skyscrapers in the distance are playing different joys and sorrows, the streets are lit with similar wind and moon, and beyond the control of time, the Nanling River in the distance is reluctant to flow towards the sky that I can't see day and night.

All I could do was wait, wait for the night to come, and wait for our respective fates to come.