The courtyard was thick with dusk, and everything was shadowy. I sprinted frantically to the left. I vaguely saw the iron gate to my right. Before I could even register that the work shed was directly ahead, I bumped headfirst into the workbench. The angle steel at the edge was incredibly hard, and it jarred my soft stomach. My upper body collapsed onto the table, my arms draped over it. I could feel the hard plastic shattering beneath the blanket covering it. 

My stomach ached terribly, and I turned over, clutching my stomach, and sat down on the ground, my back against the table. After a few seconds, I could see the office door was open. Nothing had chased me out, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Next to the shed was the small house, right next to the gate. I could jump up and run at any moment. 

For a while, the yard was silent. The square of light in front of me on the left was bright, and the warmth and familiarity grew stronger as I moved closer. The rest of my body felt groggy, especially the office doorway. It was pitch black, and the stars were visible in the sky. My stomach was a little numb; the blow from the dried vegetables had been quite powerful. I could feel my nose again, but it was still a little stuffy, itchy, and sore, making me want to cry. 

My palms must have been scraped; they burned, and my cheeks felt numb. I reached out and touched them, and they were soaked with blood. I was startled, thinking I was having a blistering attack. I wiped them with my sleeve, and it dried. The rest of my body was sore and painful, and I didn't know how many injuries I had. 

After a while of deliberation, I decided to find help. The woman was even more aggressive and powerful than last time. I was clearly at a disadvantage in this confrontation. I didn't want to lose my job (and I couldn't find another one), so I had to defeat her. But if I wanted to leave the yard, I had to close the office door first. This would prevent her from rushing out and also prevent anything from being lost. (God knows who could steal from there.) But the thought of something lurking in that dark office made me afraid to move. I stood up and walked forward. 

I moved forward with trepidation, each step cautious. I kept a close eye on the security door, ready to turn and flee at the slightest movement. Suddenly, a noise not far away startled me. Just as I was about to run, I realized it was just the induced draft fan in the bungalow. I gave a wry smile and continued my cautious pace. 

Finally reaching the door, I shuddered at the thought of being so close to that terrifying woman, who could burst out of the room and into my arms at any moment. I quickly reached out to unhook the security door from the wooden stake, grabbed the door handle, and swung it forward. At the same time, just to be on the safe side, I leaped back, and the door clicked shut. 

I immediately turned and strode forward, glancing back from time to time. I'd already been through this once, and remembering how I'd thought I was safe all these days, no longer afraid of the portrait, I couldn't help but smile bitterly again. 

When I reached the main door, I found it locked. I felt in my pocket and remembered that if I'd left it in my office drawer, I wouldn't go back for it even if I were killed. The iron gate was welded together from steel bars. Although I'd never been good at heights, I still managed to climb it. I pricked my leg on the sharp edge just as I was climbing over, and I nearly twisted my ankle when I jumped down too hard. 

About ten steps away was a small shop. There was a pay phone. As I entered, the innkeeper, who was in a wheelchair, looked at me with surprise. I looked in the full-length mirror by the door and realized my face was pale, the moonlight shimmering with fear. My face was covered in dust and dirt, streaked with sweat. There was a bruise on my left eye socket, blood smeared on my left cheek, and a long, thin wound was still oozing blood. My hair was disheveled, and my dusty short-sleeved shirt was covered in sweat and dirt. My sandals were filthy, and the laces were broken. I looked like I had just escaped from prison and people would believe me. 

"I just finished work," I explained. 

The shop owner said nothing. I answered the phone, leaned sideways to cover the receiver, and whispered, "Xiaoguo. Come here quickly, I've seen a ghost." 

Someone was pushing my shoulder, and I woke up suddenly. I blinked and recognized that the person pushing me was Xiaoguo. "What's wrong?" I asked with a yawn. 

"Get up, it's getting late," Xiaoguo said. 

"What time is it?" " 

It's half past five." 

"Come on. Stop making trouble. Let me sleep a little longer." 

"If you want to sleep, sleep during the day. Now is the perfect time. You can see." 

"What did you see?"

"That ghost!"