The Doxxed Bride

As the paper figure slowly succumbed to the flames, its blood-red eyes, just moments before being consumed entirely, fixed themselves on Bai Wanwan’s with an unnerving, almost deliberate intensity.

Just then, the traffic light turned green, casting a pallid, eerie green glow over the surroundings, a scene straight out of a vintage horror film.

“Could it be?”

As she surveyed the unsettling scene before her, a dreadful realization began to dawn on Bai Wanwan…

“Oh no! I’ve been doxxed!”

Bai Wanwan slapped her thigh, a wave of vexation washing over her. She chastised herself for her failure to safeguard her personal privacy.

It must have been her address or some other personal detail she’d inadvertently left in the chat application. That red-haired woman had been far too impatient; she could have simply asked.

‘Once I get back, I really need to scrutinize the information I’ve left in my chat applications.’

Yet, observing the red-haired woman’s lavish attire and distinguished features, Bai Wanwan surmised she was a person of considerable wealth and influence. The incinerated paper figure itself couldn’t have been inexpensive.

For someone of her caliber, investigating Bai Wanwan’s details would undoubtedly be a trivial matter.

Furthermore, the moment she entered the live stream, her bullet comments had flashed in a distinctive red hue. Such a specialized color for comments surely required a hefty top-up, perhaps a million or more, to unlock.

This realization brought Bai Wanwan a measure of relief. She retrieved her phone, snapping a photo of the lingering embers that still flickered with faint sparks. It was well past three in the morning, and her streaming session had long since concluded.

As Bai Wanwan ended the live stream, a profound weariness washed over her. The air around her also seemed to have grown noticeably colder, and all she desired was to return home and rest.

Having carefully dealt with the ashes on the ground, Bai Wanwan closed out of her stream, pulled her clothes tighter around herself, and, stifling a yawn, began to make her way back to her rented apartment.

All the convenience stores along her route were already shuttered, so Bai Wanwan dismissed any hopes of instant noodles. That could wait until she awoke the following morning.

Bai Wanwan hastened her steps, finally arriving at her rented apartment. The moment she reached the entrance, her gaze was immediately drawn to the crimson ‘囍’ character affixed to her door.

Under the meager illumination of the stairwell, the ‘囍’ character stood out with alarming intensity, a vibrant, almost shocking red, as though dyed with fresh blood.

This particular shade of red struck Bai Wanwan as eerily familiar, reminding her of the paper figure she had just burned—its eyes and the wedding-dress-like attire had been precisely this hue.

‘Who would do this? Did they put it on the wrong door?’

Bai Wanwan scanned her surroundings, but saw no one else. ‘Could it be a prank?’ she mused.

Or perhaps someone was getting married, and the ‘囍’ character had simply been misplaced? After all, it was half past three in the morning, and while early, it wasn’t unheard of for wedding preparations to begin at such an hour.

Bai Wanwan considered tearing down the ‘囍’ character but, upon reflection, decided against it. What if it truly was for someone’s wedding? On such a auspicious day, she saw no reason to interfere by ripping down their ‘囍’.

‘I’ll just tear it down in a couple of days…’

With that thought, Bai Wanwan retrieved her keys and unlocked the door. However, the moment she stepped into her rented apartment, the sight before her froze her in terror.

All four walls were plastered with faded ‘囍’ characters, their edges curled and blackened, as if ripped from some dilapidated old mansion abandoned for decades.

These were utterly unlike the ‘囍’ character she had seen on the outside of her door. Bai Wanwan instinctively glanced back at the entrance, only to discover that the ‘囍’ on the main door had, at some unknown point, also transformed into a faded, aged version!

From the ceiling, several tattered red silken ribbons hung, swaying without a breeze, resembling the spectral sashes of a hanged ghost.

The bed was adorned with a grand red wedding quilt, intricately embroidered with dragons and phoenixes. Yet, its surface was marred by grayish-blue mold patches, and at its corners, faint, dark brown stains were discernible, eerily reminiscent of dried blood.

Most horrifying of all was a dressing table that seemed to have materialized from thin air. Before a cracked bronze mirror, a pair of white candles stood, their solidified wax tears twisted into grotesque, humanoid shapes.

As the candlelight flickered, the mirror revealed the hazy silhouette of a slender woman, adorned in a phoenix crown and bridal robes, her face obscured by a blood-red wedding veil. Yet, when Bai Wanwan spun around in terror, her gaze met only empty air.

The air hung thick with the acrid scent of burnt joss paper, mingling with the cloying, sickly-sweet perfume of cheap rouge.

Trembling, she stumbled backward, only to step on something—glancing down, she saw an embroidered shoe, its toe pointing inward, as though it had just been slipped off.