Real Unexplained Supernatural Events in Chinese Folklore: Part Thirteen

This is a true story that happened in a suburban inn.

One of my friends had a business trip to a remote town where there was a small inn, a three-story building painted white. Each floor had six independent guest rooms, and the bathrooms were located on the right side of the corridor. My friend's room was on the second floor, the second one from the left. It was four rooms away from the bathroom on the right side of the corridor. On the way to the room, my friend noticed that the entire second floor seemed silent. It seemed like he was the only one staying there that night. However, my friend, not easily frightened, didn't think too much of it.

Upon entering the room, an elderly lady who appeared to be in her 60s accompanied my friend. He noticed the silence again. She led him to his room and left. Just before closing the door, she muttered something softly. Although her voice was low and she didn't turn around, my friend could still hear her clearly: "Don't go out at night." My friend found it a bit strange, but upon further thought, he dismissed it as a casual reminder to be safe at night, nothing to be alarmed about.

The room had no daylight. It was illuminated by a dim 40-watt light bulb, casting a warm red-yellow glow. There was a large bed suitable for two people to sleep side by side, a bedside table with enough space for tea cups, and a painting on the wall across from the bed. The painting depicted a group of children presenting a plate of peaches to an elderly Taoist figure with a serene smile, a very tranquil scene. The door and window were on the left wall, while the right wall was empty, with some yellowed patches showing through the worn-off white paint, perhaps due to the passage of time.

After thinking about the next day's plans and work, it quickly became 10 PM. My friend decided to use the bathroom first before going to bed to get a good night's rest. He got up, opened the room door, and headed to the bathroom, passing by four rooms with closed doors and windows on his way. It was pitch black, and he couldn't see anything inside these rooms. The bathroom was simple and had an unpleasant odor. Inside, the dim yellow light created an eerie atmosphere.

My friend quickly finished his business in the bathroom, and on his way back to his room, he locked the door and windows. He lay down on the bed, thinking that the town's night was exceptionally quiet, without even the sound of a barking dog. This unusual silence sent a shiver down his spine. However, he decided to sleep early and leave town in the morning.

As he closed his eyes, he saw a group of smiling beauties holding a plate of peaches in front of him. He reached out and took one. His habit was to split the peach in half before eating, just as he did this time. He was delighted and couldn't stop smiling at the beautiful women. As he exerted some force to split the peach in two, he suddenly saw that the center of the peach was filled with colorful, wriggling caterpillars. He dropped the peach in shock, awakening from the dream.

My friend sat up in bed, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. When he looked up, the painting on the opposite wall was now blank, with no Taoist figure, peaches, or celestial children. He was shocked again. He quickly turned on the light and saw an open peach on the bedside table. It was another jolt for him. He spent a sleepless night in that room.

Early the next morning, he left the inn. On his way back to the city, he heard that the inn was built on a burial site and currently run by an elderly couple. Very few locals stayed there. My friend broke into a cold sweat again.