Is It Better or Worse to Live with Your Landlord?

My first year in Shanghai, I lived in Jing’an District, renting a room in a nicely finished two-bedroom apartment for 900 yuan a month.

That day, my landlord gave me a suggestive look and said, “You’re only eighteen. That alone is worth 3,000.”

I froze for a moment before I understood what he meant.

On the rental app, the second bedroom in this apartment was listed at 3,900 a month.

02

My name is Guo Congxiao. I’m eighteen.

When I first arrived in Shanghai, I stayed at a youth hostel that cost 35 yuan a day.

A twelve-person dorm.

Every morning, I woke up in the stink of sweat and went to take a hot shower I could never get.

Then I went looking for somewhere to live, or a job that came with a place to stay.

Zhang Ziming might have been the benefactor fate had sent me.

Never in my dreams had I imagined that 900 yuan in a shared rental could get me such a nice place.

He was in his thirties, an art broker.

He had rented the whole two-bedroom apartment and wanted to rent out the second bedroom.

The apartment had a spacious living room and a clean bathroom. Beneath an enormous mirror, there was even a double sink.

The second bedroom still had the pink wallpaper and the cat pictures left by the previous tenant.

And all this cost a hundred yuan less than the youth hostel.

As I read the clauses in the contract that I couldn’t understand, Zhang Ziming considerately asked why I hadn’t gone to college, why I was out working when I had only just become an adult.

In an instant, all my grievances came flooding up.

Gripping the pen tightly, I told him, “I took the exam ah. I really did get into college.”

576 points. Enough for a decent university.

But my parents had locked me in the house to stop me from filling out my university applications. They left me only two choices.

Either get a job or get married.

I had no choice. All I could do was run, run to somewhere I could breathe freely.

I signed my name on the contract.

Stroke by stroke, pressing hard enough to go through the paper.

Through gritted teeth, I said, “I’d rather die than go back.”

Zhang Ziming sighed and said softly, “It’s all right. From now on, if anything comes up, just tell Ming-ge. Be good.”

Translator’s note: Ge means “older brother,” a familiar way to address an older man. Ming-ge takes the last character of Zhang Ziming’s name.

He picked up the contract, patted my back, and left looking perfectly at ease.

I stood where I was, my body rigid.

Because the way he patted me was like stroking.

Gently, lovingly, allowing no refusal, the way you’d stroke a kitten.

As if telling me that the three thousand yuan knocked off the rent had given him that right.

03

After that day, Zhang Ziming was always crossing the line, as if by accident.

When he handed me a glass of water, he would lightly touch my hand.

When we ate, he would suddenly wipe my mouth for me.

When I was using the toilet, he would come over and open the door as though nothing were wrong.

Half a month later, even the bras and underwear I hung on the balcony started disappearing for no reason.

I worked up the courage to ask Zhang Ziming.

All I got were ridiculous answers like “Maybe the wind blew them away.”

But I didn’t press it. I didn’t dare.

Zhang Ziming was always drunk. He was 1.8 meters tall, his eyes full of bloodshot veins.

I was too scared, scared of the primal sense of pressure he gave off.

I could only comfort myself that once I found a job and moved somewhere else, all of this would be over.

But Zhang Ziming didn’t leave me much time.

That day, I had just come back from an interview and was about to go to sleep when I heard a strange sound.

My eyes snapped to the door lock.

It was the sound of a key going into the lock cylinder.

Someone was unlocking my door?

Zhang Ziming?

“Ming-ge?!”

I called out, forcing myself to sound calm. There was no answer.

The sound at the lock stopped.

I got out of bed barefoot and braced the back of a chair against the lock. Half-crouching, I gripped a pair of scissors and stared at the door.

Ten minutes.

A full ten minutes passed before I heard another sound.

A faint footstep, moving away from my door.

It was Zhang Ziming! Just now… he had been standing guard outside my door the whole time!

04

I didn’t sleep that night.

My calves had gone numb from crouching. I dragged the heavy solid-wood bedside table away from the wall and moved it to the door to block the chair.

Just then, a diary fell from behind the bedside table onto the floor.

I didn’t look at it closely. I just kept staring at the bedside table.

Until dawn.

Only after I heard Zhang Ziming go out did I slip into the bathroom, wash up hastily, put on light makeup in the mirror, and leave for an interview.

When I came back to the apartment that afternoon, I brought a sharp fruit knife with me.

I quietly opened the door and looked around on tiptoe. Zhang Ziming didn’t seem to be back yet.

I let out a breath, hurried to take off my makeup and shower, went back to my bedroom, and locked the door. I took a sip of the cooled boiled water by my bed and dove headfirst onto the bed.

Pulled up the covers. Turned off the ceiling light. Closed my eyes.

All I wanted was one good night’s sleep.

But the thing that truly made my hair stand on end happened only a few breaths later.

I sensed something off in the room and held my breath.

And then I heard it. Under the bed, another person was breathing.

It was Zhang Ziming! He had been hiding under my bed the whole time!!

05

I couldn’t help tightening my grip on the knife under my pillow, and I tucked it against my chest.

Then I let out a faint murmur, like I was talking in my sleep.

I would pretend I had a stomachache and go to the bathroom, and get out of this bedroom.

I got out of bed.

But the moment my feet touched the floor, I knew it was bad.

He would definitely notice that my whole body was shaking.

Without even putting on my slippers, I walked quickly to the door and opened it gently.

The warm yellow light of the living room spilled across my face.

At the same moment, I heard the most hopeless words of my life.

“Xiaoxiao, what do you need a knife for?”

06

Despair spread through my whole body.

I didn’t dare turn around. All I could do was run.

In just two steps, Zhang Ziming caught up with me.

He dragged me straight into the bathroom and shoved me roughly to the floor.

Pain hit me instantly.

The knife in my hand was knocked flying by Zhang Ziming as he pressed down on me.

Under the glaring light, Zhang Ziming looked down at me from above, laughing hideously.

He lowered his voice and snarled, “Guo Congxiao, you knew this day would come.”

“Haven’t you been waiting for this day?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been waiting for this day all along?!”

“You little slut!” Zhang Ziming kept repeating it, his rotten alcohol breath spraying in my face. Then he lowered his head and violently assaulted my neck.

My hands could only twist and flail uselessly.

The knife had slid to the far edge of the bathroom.

There was nothing heavy beside me.

Only Zhang Ziming’s hands, pinning me down tight.

Those were the most powerless thirty seconds of my life.

Until I touched the shower curtain, still beaded with water.

I realized at once that this cheap plastic shower curtain was my only life-saving straw.

I pulled down with all my strength. At the very moment Zhang Ziming ripped open my top, rrrip! I tore the whole shower curtain down and threw it over Zhang Ziming’s head. Then I locked my arms tight around his head.

He struggled madly, his hands lashing at my body again and again.

I endured the pain and kept winding the shower curtain around Zhang Ziming’s neck.

I started pulling hard. Harder. And harder still.

07

Zhang Ziming’s head, wrapped in the shower curtain, lay on my fair knees.

He stared at me, his face full of terror and helplessness.

I only bent my head down, close to his ear.

“I really was waiting for this day. Good thing I didn’t have to wait too long.”

I said it softly, in a calm, comforting tone.

“I know. You put a camera in the bathroom, right?”

“Dog bastard.”

08

That day, I had seen it.

The diary that fell on the floor recorded how the previous tenant had been degraded by Zhang Ziming with “sex in exchange for rent.”

It also recorded how Zhang Ziming had threatened her with peeping footage from the bathroom.

Zhang Ziming deserved to die.

And I wanted him dead too.

When I showered during the day, I bent the shower-curtain hooks loose one by one in the rising steam.

Making sure I could pull it down in one go.

Then I bought the knife and waited for my match against Zhang Ziming.

Running away was deliberate too.

It was to lure Zhang Ziming into the bathroom, then let the camera in the corner record all of it.

09

Zhang Ziming’s breathing slowly stopped.

There was more despair in his eyes than I had acted out ten minutes earlier.

Much, much more.

I said softly, “Darling, don’t worry.”

“This is a perfect case of self-defense.”

At last, Zhang Ziming’s clouded pupils lost focus, and his hands dropped limply.

I got up, pretending to be terrified, meaning to go to my room for my phone and call the police.

I would be fine. I was the perfect victim.

But the moment I stood, a strange weightlessness surged over me.

My head buzzed, and everything in front of me started to blur.

What was going on?

I thought of the glass of boiled water by my bed.

Zhang Ziming had drugged it?

Too bad. He had been too impatient and left too many holes.

Looking at Zhang Ziming’s corpse, I pulled out a barely visible cold smile, then fainted onto the icy floor tiles.

10

I was woken by car horns outside the window.

My head still hurt a little, but I was fully awake now.

I struggled up, ready to call the police right away.

I had taken only one step when I turned my head back.

Something’s wrong… something’s wrong! The shower curtain had been hung back up, and the knife was lying on the floor.

The body… the body was gone.

11

I started to panic. I quickly splashed water on my face to calm myself down.

I checked myself over. I was black and blue all over, the marks of the struggle still there.

Everything that happened that night was real.

But if Zhang Ziming hadn’t died and had even woken up before me, there was no reason for him to let me off ah?

His room, my room, the living room, the kitchen. No one anywhere.

Suddenly, I thought of the most crucial thing: the camera hidden in a corner of the bathroom ceiling.

I brought over a stool and pushed aside the loose ceiling tile.

Behind it, there was nothing but a narrow hole.

The camera that should have been there was gone.

Just then, the phone in my pocket rang.

I opened it.

And saw that it was actually Zhang Ziming, sending me a video.

It was an edited video, cut down to only the part where I smothered him.

12

He said, “Xiaoxiao, keep living here.”

I took a breath, frowned, and replied, “What do you mean?”

“Twenty-four hours. As long as you leave this apartment for twenty-four hours, the video gets handed over to the Public Security Bureau.”

That was the last message Zhang Ziming sent me.

After that, no matter what I sent, he never replied again.

Now I didn’t know what state Zhang Ziming was in, or what exactly he wanted. All I could do was keep living in this empty two-bedroom apartment.

Gradually, I realized that whatever I was doing, I had the feeling of being gazed at.

Gazed at, not monitored.

Like someone silently watching you, not interfering, and not leaving either.

I checked every corner and tried the methods I found online again and again, but I never found another camera.

The feeling of being gazed at never went away.

Until one day, while I was blow-drying my hair in the bathroom after a shower, the power suddenly went out.

In that instant, the noise of the hair dryer and the whir of the exhaust fan both disappeared.

I jumped, then quickly recovered. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and, in front of the mirror, unhurriedly wrapped my hair in a towel.

But I heard it.

I really did hear it.

In the instant everything fell silent, in the pitch dark, behind the mirror reflecting my naked body, came the sound of something falling.

13

Xie Chuanqiu

The painting I’m most satisfied with is a nude portrait of a woman.

She’s my roommate, my roommate who lives in the two-bedroom apartment across the hall.

Two years ago, I rented this apartment and shut myself away to paint.

But the more I painted, the worse it got. Not a single piece passed my own standards.

Finally, one day, I broke down.

On a stormy night, having held it in for too long, I smashed the furniture and lashed out at random.

The bathroom mirror shattered, and behind the mirror, a hidden room was exposed.

It was extremely small, under four square meters, with some cement, wooden boards and other renovation materials left inside.

I climbed in and saw that on the wall opposite, there was an opening half a person tall, sealed off by a mirror. That had to be the mirror in the neighboring apartment’s bathroom.

I remembered that the apartment next door was a rental that didn’t have a tenant yet.

A bold idea sprouted in me.

Over the next few days, I took down the mirror in the neighbor’s bathroom and replaced it with a two-way mirror I had bought.

The person on the other side would see a normal mirror; in my eyes, it was just a sheet of clear glass.

14

At first, a man moved in.

I watched him hide cameras, watched him drug people, watched him threaten and bribe every tenant.

I was filled with hatred, and at the same time, thoroughly entertained.

Later, a girl called Guo Congxiao moved in.

She wasn’t a standard beauty, but she was the girl with the most strength I’d ever seen.

I had a feeling she was different.

That day, I sat in the hidden room watching Guo Congxiao bathe, and a nude portrait took shape in my head.

A passing grade, but not enough.

Not nearly enough.

She was like a silent volcano, the magma inside scalding, impatient to erupt.

I wanted more.

So when that perverted beast muttered to himself that he was going to make his move on Guo Congxiao, I didn’t interfere.

I spent the whole day in the hidden room, waiting for things to develop on the other side of the mirror.

At last, that moment came! In that moment, Guo Congxiao was pinned beneath Zhang Ziming, the knife flung away, her hands clamped down, and a surging hatred blazed out of her eyes… so, so beautiful!!! I held my breath, but my whole body was thrilled.

Five minutes later, my thrill had turned into a cold sweat.

I watched with my own eyes as Guo Congxiao smothered that animal with the shower curtain, by her own hand.

“Dog bastard.”

15

She passed out.

110

Translator’s note: 110 is China’s police emergency number.

In the hidden room, I did think about calling the police.

But I understood that once I did, Guo Congxiao would disappear from my sight forever.

I quietly dealt with everything.

The bathroom was spotless again.

My one true model, Guo Congxiao, was still living there without a care.

And I was still enjoying our time together, time only I knew about.

I knew she had found a job, working the front desk at a foreign company.

I knew she had a few admirers, and a few close girlfriends too.

I knew she hadn’t given up on her studies and was still preparing for the adult college entrance exam.

I’m not just an observer, and she’s not just an object of my gaze.

I’m sure that I’m living together with her, just a mirror’s distance apart.

Today is Saturday. As usual, after her shower she should go to the living room to listen to her online classes.

But she didn’t.

She stood naked in front of the mirror and put on a black silk nightgown I had never seen before.

I know she hates black.

Then she picked up a fruit knife and slipped it into the nightgown’s inner pocket.

She walked out of the bathroom.

What was she going to do?

Kill herself for fear of punishment?

Three minutes later, someone rang my doorbell.

I hurriedly climbed out through the opening, set the mirror right, and went to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Hello, I’m your neighbor from across the hall.”

Outside the door was a voice I couldn’t have known better.

It was Guo Congxiao.