Do not return to the dormitory in the middle of the night.

Do not return to your dormitory at midnight.

— D University’s Prohibited Rule

My name is Lin Zijian, a student at the D University School of Business—a quintessential college student.

Getting into D University took all the effort I could muster. God knows this perverse school also has some sort of bizarre aptitude test, and just that alone eliminates ninety percent of applicants. Strangely enough, after enrolling, none of us could recall anything about that test. Still, it didn’t affect our daily lives.

D University is a completely closed-off private institution. As long as you’re admitted, your parents receive a large sum of money. In other words, it’s as if your child is being sold to the school. The university ensures that all students who graduate normally will never want for food or clothing, but its elimination rate is even higher than that of fighter pilots—by graduation, fewer than one in a thousand of an entering class remain. Even so, parents scramble desperately to send their children here. After all, with the two-child policy now in place, if one’s ruined, there’s always a second, isn’t there? Better to sell them to the university than waste them at home.

Today, I vented about all this with some friends from my hometown. Since our parents abandoned us here, we can only rely on each other to survive. Even if we do manage to graduate, no one wants to return to that so-called home.

As the saying goes, “A thousand cups are too few when drinking with a kindred spirit.” Today I found a like-minded companion and drank five bottles of beer with him, leaving my head spinning. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was already eleven. By the time I got back to the dorm, it would be past midnight.

One of my friends advised me, “Don’t go back tonight. Stay here with us—after all, we’re still on campus.”

Because of the closed-off education model, D University’s campus has everything: bars, internet cafes, restaurants, and lodging. Everything is managed automatically, and with a single student card, all services are free.

“That’s right, Zijian, don’t go back. It’s nearly midnight already—better to stay.”

“What’s the big deal?” I replied, my grin broad and obvious on my flushed face.

“Don’t forget D University’s taboo—you mustn’t return to your dorm late at night,” one friend said gravely, holding my arm.

But with the courage that only alcohol brings, I shrugged him off and strode out of the restaurant.

Unwilling to let me go alone, my friend chased after me, shouting, “Zijian, don’t be reckless—it’s Ghost Festival tonight. Don’t do anything foolish.”

My friend’s voice faded into the endless silence of the night. “Foolish? What could I possibly do?” I wobbled toward my dormitory, clutching a beer bottle in one hand and my phone in the other.

“Third Brother, leave the door open for me!” I shouted into my phone, not caring whether I’d called or not. Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

Fueled by drink, I tumbled through a window into the dormitory building.

“This shabby little window can’t stop me!” I laughed at my torn uniform pants, then headed from the washroom toward the stairs.

My dorm was on the third floor, right across from the stairwell—a spot that Second Brother, our class monitor, had fought hard to secure for us.

After walking for what seemed like ages, I looked up: second floor.

How odd. I’d been walking forever—how was I only on the second floor?

I grinned at the corridor camera and jogged up the steps to the third floor. Stopping at my door, I began pounding on it.

Bang, bang, bang.

Bang, bang, bang.

In the deathly quiet corridor, my knocking sounded especially jarring. Growing impatient, I started shouting, not caring if I’d wake anyone else.

“Fatty Third, open the door for me!”

“Your Fourth Brother is back, you hear me?!”

“Fatty Third!”

I hammered the door, but only silence answered me.

Impossible. It makes no sense. Even if the three inside couldn’t hear me, why hadn’t anyone in the other rooms reacted? I was making such a racket, yet not a soul emerged. Warily, I looked around. This corridor didn’t look like ours. I remembered our hallway had white fluorescent lights—why were these lamps a dim yellow?

As the alcohol wore off, I began to notice the changes. The door I’d been knocking on was an old-fashioned wooden one, but our dorm doors were iron!

Where on earth was I?

A chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively retreated until I reached the stairwell. Just then, every one of the thirteen dorm room doors in the corridor swung open, releasing endless shadows that surged toward me. Reflexively, I shielded my head. Suddenly, an extraordinary golden light burst from my body, and the black mist vanished in an instant.

Breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the joy of survival, I pulled out the object emitting the golden light—a jade pendant I’d worn around my neck. My mother had specially procured it for me years ago, a talisman meant to ward off nightmares. Now a crack had appeared in the jade. It seemed I really had encountered a ghost.

After calming myself, I surveyed my surroundings again. I seemed to have returned to the normal world. The lights were white once more, the doors all iron. I knocked lightly, and the door swung open of its own accord. Sure enough, Third Brother hadn’t locked it. I tiptoed inside; my three roommates were already snoring like pigs.

Gently closing the door, I climbed into bed, but sleep eluded me. Had all this really happened, or was it merely a drunken hallucination? Is the dormitory building at midnight a gateway to another world?

If I’d truly stumbled into another realm, were my actions justifiable? Had I destroyed those evil spirits? I must have been right—I was only defending myself. I kept reassuring myself, telling myself everything would be fine. Eventually, in this cycle of self-consolation, I drifted into sleep.

But I had no idea that, because of me, everything was set into motion. I had unwittingly provoked a disaster that should have been years away.

In the principal’s office, a red emergency button flashed urgently. The principal watched the surveillance monitors with a grim expression.

“Seal of the Evil Spirits failed. Due to suspected energy release from an ancient artifact, the seal has failed. The Thirteen Evil Spirits have escaped their prison.”

“Director Hong! Look at the mess your student has made,” the principal barked into the radio. “Go immediately—if the Thirteen Evil Spirits find hosts, it will be too late.”

“Mr. Wang, initiate academy lockdown and raise the alert to Level One. No student must realize what has happened!”

After issuing these orders, the principal exhaled deeply and slumped into his chair. “Let’s hope this doesn’t get out of hand. Our combat forces aren’t ready—we can’t answer to the Four Great Ruins.”