just down the road on her way in, and, not feeling ready to face a cafeteria full of noisy people, she bought some instant noodles and a box of ice-cream and took them back to eat in her room.
Lucy’s first few days in college were not everything she had hoped for. It seemed as though her fellow students had formed their own groups during induction week, and she was now surplus to requirements. She spent her evenings with a textbook, sitting on a park bench just outside her Hall of Residence, hoping and fearing that one of the other students would decide to come over and chat. No one did. Each night she would sit out until it grew dark, before heading back to her (still empty) room.
Though she did not talk to her neighbours, she soon came to know a little about them. On one side of her (number eight) she had a pair of twins from Shenzhen. Both studying art, they appeared to have no need of company beyond each other. Further down the corridor there was a computer science student whose principal occupations seemed to involve sneaking contraband, in the form of drugs, alcohol and members of the opposite sex, into the dorms. Number four, as far as Lucy was aware, was unoccupied. Number two contained a pair of girls who belonged to a variety of University sports teams, and who seemed incapable of carrying out the simplest of acts quietly.
Around two weeks after the beginning of term Lucy realized that Number Four was not, in fact, empty as she had believed. Returning from her position on the bench outside, she had seen the door pulled closed just as she turned the corner into the corridor. Maybe it was another girl who had been obliged to begin the term late, rather like her absent roommate? Certainly, accommodation was at a premium, and it seemed odd that the university authorities would be content to allow a ground floor room to sit empty. As she got ready for bed, Lucy listened for sounds of activity next door, but heard nothing. Maybe the new girl had not arrived yet, and the person she had seen entering the room was merely a cleaner, making the place ready for the next occupant. Lucy hoped that the new girl would feel as bereft as she did; it would, at least, give them something in common to talk about.
Lucy rarely ate in the shared sitting rooms or in the University cafeteria. Sitting alone she felt self-conscious, and preferred to buy snacks at the convenience store to eat in her room. The following evening, she was fumbling with her book bag, her crutches, a 7-Eleven carrier bag and her keys, when she realized that another girl was opening the door to Number Four.
She glanced across, trying not to stare. The newcomer was tall, and looked more like a graduate student than an undergrad. There was something strangely old-fashioned about her clothes: a pleated skirt and a top that looked a lot like it had been borrowed from a Japanese sailor-style school uniform. She had long hair in a style so unfashionable that, Lucy guessed, it had probably become fashionable again without her realizing it. The girl looked neither left nor right, but simply put her key in the door. It was now or never: Lucy’s one chance to break the ice with someone, anyone.
“Are you new too?” she asked nervously.
“No, I’ve been here a long time.”
“You don’t have a roommate?”
“There was one, but she’s not here any more.”
“What are you studying?”
“Chinese literature.”
“Oh. I’m studying medicine.” The two girls watched each other warily. Finally, reluctantly, the newcomer spoke.
“I’m sorry. Would you like some help with your bags?”
“Thank you.” Lucy handed them over and unlocked her door. She switched the electric light on and hobbled in. The other girl followed her, and put the bags down on the desk.
“Would you like some milk tea, ah…?” Lucy asked, suddenly, trying to draw out the encounter, realizing that, lackluster though it may have been, it was the first proper conversation she had had in a long time.
“Can Zing.” No English name. “And no, thank you. I’m allergic.”
Lucy bustled around, putting the shopping away and chattering on about her own health problems and all the difficulties she had encountered since arriving at the University. Can Zing stood silently in the middle of the room.
“… I really wanted to go to the induction week too,” Lucy said, packing away the milk tea containers next to the kettle. “My friend who was in the year above me at school said that everyone sits outside and tells each other ghost stories. Still," she reflected hopefully, "Maybe I’ll get to hear them next year. I bet you know them all.”
“Yes.”
“My school only had the boring, standard-issue ghost stories that you get in any school. Like the dead girl who’d wait in the toilets and get you if you went in alone. I bet every school in the country has its own version of that one.”
“Yes.”
“Does this Hall have any special ghost stories?”
“No.” Silence.
“Well…”
“But the Faculty of Medcine does,” Can Zing said unexpectedly.
“Oh! Would you tell me?” Lucy asked. Can Zing stood looking blank for a second or two.
“If you would like me to.”
“I’d love it! Please, sit down. Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. But please have some milk tea yourself.” Lucy made the tea, still chatting amiably about her impressions of the University. Finally, she took a seat opposite Can Zing at the desk.
“According to the stories-”
“Ooh, wait!" Lucy interrupted. "If this is a ghost story, we should turn the lights down.” Lucy glanced across at the switch. There was no dimmer. “I know,” she said finally, “I’ll turn the room lights off and switch my laptop on instead. It’s not the best, but it’s better than nothing.” She suited the action to the words, and soon they were sitting in an appropriately atmospheric, if rather green, glow from the screen of her computer.
“Please, carry on,” said Lucy politely, sipping her tea.
“According to the stories, there was a Japanese professor at the Faculty of Medicine who fell in love with one of his students. They had to keep it secret, otherwise he would lose his job and her parents would disown her.”
“It must have been a long time ago.”
“Maybe.”
“What was he professor of?”
“I don’t know. The pair of them would meet in one of the classrooms at night. There were no problems until one night, the Dean happened to be working late. They had ordered food from a very expensive restaurant and they were going to have a romantic dinner together. The Dean saw a light on in the classroom and went to check. When he caught them he was furious. He went straight off to call the girl’s parents and arrange for the professor to be fired. In despair, the girl and the professor threw themselves off the roof. The delivery boy from the restaurant found the bodies. Since then, every year on that day, a restaurant in the city will get a delivery order for the Faculty of Medicine. When the delivery boy arrives, he finds everything locked up and no one there.”
“Ohhhh,” Lucy shivered happily. “That’s a good one! Are there any others about the Faculty of Medicine?”
“No.”
“That’s a pity.” Lucy tapped a few keys to stop the computer screen from going blank.
“There is one about Bethlehem Hall,” Can Zing admitted, not sounding particularly enthusiastic.
“Tell me!”
“There were a boy and a girl in Bethlehem Hall who were in love. She had the room directly above his. They spent all their time together and did not pay attention in class. When exams came, they were both worried that they would fail. In order to study better, they decided that for the whole two weeks of the exams they would not see each other at all. The girl always made red bean soup for the boy, though, and she decided that she would carry on doing this. Every day she would let a bowl of soup down on a string to his window, and he would leave the empty bowl by her door when he had finished. The two weeks passed, and every day the boy ate red bean soup and studied. When exams were final
ly over, he went to knock on the girl’s door. There was no answer. Then one of the other girls came past. He asked where his girlfriend was. She told him that the girl had been hit by a car and killed on the first day of the exams.” Lucy grinned broadly, and swiped the mousepad on the computer to stop the screen from going to sleep.
“That’s a good one too - you're really good at this! I wish I’d been able to join in the induction week,” she sighed again. “Next year, maybe.”
“Maybe.” Lucy thought for a while.
“I wonder why so many Chinese ghost stories are about food. Thai and Japanese and American ghost stories hardly have any food in them. I know a great ghost story about food. It’s Mainland though, not Hong Kong. Want me to tell you it?”
“That would be very kind of you,” Can Zing said politely, her hands folded in her lap.
“Okay, well there was a man who worked night shifts at a factory just outside a town. I don’t know what town or what factory, so there’s no point asking. He was very poor so he didn’t get the bus or ride a bike back to his house in the town, he walked every single night. One night he was walking along the road, when he saw a girl up ahead, crouching in the ditch with her head in her hands. She looked like she was crying so he hurried over and asked what was wrong. The girl didn’t answer, so he put his hand on her shoulder. That was when she looked up at him, and she had no face.” Lucy tapped the return key a few times. She did not look at Can Zing,