Chapter Two: The Midnight Radio (Part II)

"Is that it?" Reporter Zhou couldn't help breaking the silence that had fallen over Chang'an Coffin Shop. "What happened next? Who was that figure?"

The proprietor smiled and closed his folding fan, pausing the narrative. The candlelight cast dancing shadows across his pale face, making his expression unfathomably mysterious. "The story isn't over, but the hour grows late." He surveyed the tense expressions of his audience. "Tomorrow night, we shall continue exploring Lin Ye's fate... and that mysterious door."

------

On the second night, the rain fell harder than before. Droplets drummed against the roof of Chang'an Coffin Shop like countless tiny fingers continuously knocking. The ten listeners once again gathered around the circular table in the center of the courtyard, each face more solemn than the previous evening, as if already sensing that tonight's story would be even more unsettling than the last.

"Allow me to continue last night's tale," the proprietor's voice cut clearly through the rainfall, the eerie echo effect seemingly amplified by the sound of the storm. "When we last left Lin Ye, he was facing a shadowy figure..."

------

Lin Ye stood frozen in the darkness, unable to move as the figure in the doorway continued pointing at him, then slowly spoke: "You shouldn't have played that tape."

The voice was hoarse and weary, carrying a bone-deep fear. When the lights suddenly flickered back on, Lin Ye could see the visitor clearly—a man in his forties, with sunken eyes and haggard features, wearing a security uniform that had obviously been worn for a very long time.

"Who are you?" Lin Ye's voice remained tense. "How did you get in?"

"My name is Zhang Ming. I was the former head of security at the radio station." The man approached, and Lin Ye noticed his hands trembling slightly. "As for how I got in... let's just say doors are no longer obstacles for me."

Lin Ye quickly scanned the room, searching for possible escape routes or weapons, but Zhang Ming waved dismissively. "Relax, I'm not here to harm you. On the contrary, I've come to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" Lin Ye remained vigilant.

"About the truth of 'Midnight Whispers,' about 47918, about that door..." Zhang Ming pulled an old notebook from his pocket. "And about the fate you may face."

Over the next hour, Zhang Ming told Lin Ye a chilling story. According to him, the "Midnight Whispers" program hadn't begun just five years ago but had existed under different names for over seventy years. The program had a special purpose—to open a doorway between the human world and another dimension through specific sound frequencies and language patterns.

"Every person selected to host has specific vocal qualities," Zhang Ming opened his notebook, displaying pages of detailed records. "Your voice, like Wang Hai's voice, and like all previous hosts' voices, possesses a certain... resonance capability."

"Resonance capability?" Lin Ye felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"Yes, your voices can resonate with that dimension, just as certain frequency sound waves can shatter glass." Zhang Ming's gaze became vacant. "I've witnessed three hosts disappear. Each time followed the same pattern—first unusual listener calls, then the appearance of the number sequence, then the host beginning to hear and see things that shouldn't exist..."

Lin Ye recalled his experiences over the past days, each detail matching Zhang Ming's described pattern perfectly. His heartbeat accelerated, sweat once again soaking through his clothes. "What is this... door? Where does it lead?"

Zhang Ming shook his head. "I don't know. Nobody knows. But one thing is certain—'they' want to come through, and your voice is the key."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know what they are," Zhang Ming's voice deepened. "But they aren't human. They exist within sound, between frequencies, in dimensions we cannot comprehend. The only certainty is that they need people like you to open that door."

"What should I do?" Lin Ye felt a wave of helplessness.

"You have two choices," Zhang Ming stood, preparing to leave. "Resign immediately, leave this city forever, never approach broadcasting equipment again. Or..." he paused, his eyes revealing an indescribable sorrow, "or continue broadcasting, but know that when you recite the complete incantation, the door will open, and you'll become part of the door, like Wang Hai, like all your predecessors."

"What incantation?"

"You'll know," Zhang Ming walked to the door, casting one final glance at Lin Ye before departing. "It's already in your mind, though you haven't realized it yet. The whispers in your dreams, the voices on the tape—they're all teaching you how to open that door."

After Zhang Ming left, Lin Ye remained sleepless all night. He repeatedly compared the man's warnings with his own experiences, trying to find any logical flaws or contradictions. Unfortunately, everything aligned too perfectly, forcing him to consider a terrifying possibility—perhaps it was all true.

The next day, Lin Ye returned to the station, determined to investigate thoroughly. He examined every available file, attempting to trace the true history of "Midnight Whispers." Among dust-covered documents, he discovered an encrypted file recording mysterious disappearances of broadcasters beginning September 18, 1947, each occurring at fixed intervals.

More disturbing still, these disappearances formed a precise mathematical pattern: 4 years, 7 months, 9 days, 1 hour, 8 minutes. This exactly matched the recurring number sequence: 47918.

While researching these materials, Lin Ye began noticing abnormal physical changes. Subtle lines appeared on his skin, resembling radio waveform patterns that pulsed with his heartbeat. More frighteningly, these lines gradually formed that familiar numerical sequence: 47918.

Meanwhile, strange phenomena continued increasing throughout the city. Residents reported hearing Lin Ye's voice from non-radio devices—faucets, heating pipes, even children's toys. More bizarre still, these voices all discussed "the door" and "47918," though Lin Ye was certain he'd never mentioned these topics on his program.

"My voice has been... weaponized?" Lin Ye whispered to his mirror, staring at his pale face and the eerie patterns on his arms. A profound sense of guilt overwhelmed him—it was his voice bringing this unknown force into listeners' homes, his voice becoming the tool to open that "door."

Lin Ye's guilt quickly transformed into a sense of mission. If all this were true, if he had indeed been chosen as the "key," then he had a responsibility to uncover the truth and prevent potential disaster. He decided to use his professional knowledge and station resources to conduct a risky experiment.

Over the following days, Lin Ye deliberately explored topics like "sound," "frequency," and "dimensions" on his program, hoping to draw out more knowledgeable listeners. He simultaneously documented all his abnormal experiences while privately researching ancient broadcasting theories, seeking possible connections between sound and other dimensions.

This exploration brought unexpected consequences. Lin Ye began hearing increasingly clear "whispers" in his dreams, teaching him a strange incantation: "With sound as guide, with words as path, open the door, unite all things. Four directions, seven tones, nine realms as one, my voice leads the way, eternal return."

More terrifying still, he began tasting a strange metallic flavor in his mouth, like licking copper coins but stronger. This taste became particularly pronounced when he spoke, as if his voice itself was undergoing some physical transformation.

Lin Ye realized time was running out. By his calculations, 27 days had passed since he took over the program, while Zhang Ming's notes predicted the "event" would occur on day 47.

"I must do something," Lin Ye told himself. "Either run away or face it."

After intense internal struggle, Lin Ye made his decision. He wouldn't flee but would confront this mysterious force, trying to understand it and perhaps even find a way to control it. If his voice truly was the key, then he should have the power to decide whether to open that door.

On the 30th day's broadcast, Lin Ye decided to conduct a live experiment. He told his listeners that tonight he would explore "the power of sound," particularly the remarkable effects certain frequencies and language patterns might produce.

As midnight struck, Lin Ye took a deep breath and began broadcasting: "Good evening, listeners. Welcome to 'Midnight Whispers.' This is Lin Ye. Tonight, I'd like to share some special discoveries about sound..."

His voice echoed through the darkened studio, each word carrying some subtle change, as if another layer of sound interwove with his speech. As the broadcast continued, Lin Ye felt the metallic taste in his throat intensifying, almost making him nauseous.

"Sound is not merely a communication tool," he continued, feeling each word becoming abnormally heavy. "It can also connect different realms, opening doors we normally cannot see..."

Just then, the temperature in the studio plummeted. Lin Ye could see his breath condensing in the air, forming tiny ice crystals. The thermometer showed the room temperature dropping from a normal twenty degrees to below zero. More bizarrely, this cold seemed confined to the studio alone; colleagues in the hallway continued their activities normally, apparently sensing nothing unusual.

The ringing telephone broke the frigid silence. When Lin Ye answered, he heard a familiar voice: "Don't recite the incantation." It was Zhang Ming.

"Why not?" Lin Ye asked quietly.

"Because once the door opens, it cannot be closed. You will disappear, but your voice will remain forever, becoming a bridge for 'them' to enter our world."

"What happens if I don't recite it?"

"They'll find someone else, and the cycle continues. But at least you can save yourself."

Lin Ye fell into contemplation. If Zhang Ming spoke the truth, then this horrifying cycle would continue regardless of his actions. Unless...

"Is it possible," Lin Ye suddenly thought, "to use my voice not to open the door, but to seal it?"

Silence fell on the other end for a moment. "Theoretically... perhaps. If the incantation can open the door, maybe some variation could close it. But it's too dangerous; no one has ever tried."

"But it's worth attempting, isn't it?" Lin Ye's voice suddenly grew resolute. "If I do nothing, the next host, the next person with a 'special voice,' will face the same fate I do. This cycle must be broken."

Zhang Ming didn't answer, but Lin Ye had already made up his mind. He hung up and took out his prepared notes—based on all his collected information, he had modified the incantation he'd heard in his dreams, hoping to transform it from a door-opening spell into a sealing spell.

As the studio temperature continued dropping and the walls began icing over, Lin Ye knew the moment had arrived. He adjusted the microphone, took a deep breath, and began reciting his modified incantation:

"With sound as shield, with words as wall, seal the door, each thing to its place. Four directions, seven tones, nine realms separated, my voice protects, eternally sealed."

The moment Lin Ye completed the full incantation, frost suddenly formed across the studio's glass, each word he spoke condensing into tiny ice crystals that floated before him, then slowly dissipated. A strange burning sensation rose deep in his throat, as if something were awakening.

"We interrupt our regular programming to bring you a special announcement..." Lin Ye heard his own voice say, but terrifyingly—his lips hadn't moved. This voice came from the broadcasting equipment, not his throat.

The studio lights began flickering, and the equipment emitted sharp noises. Lin Ye experienced an unprecedented sensation—as if his body were being decomposed from within, each cell breaking down then reforming into something he couldn't comprehend.

In this moment, Lin Ye suddenly understood everything. The "Midnight Whispers" program was never meant for human listeners but was an elaborately designed ritual using specific sounds and words to open a doorway between dimensions. He, like all the disappeared hosts before him, was merely a medium for this ritual, a key to open that door.

But perhaps his modified incantation had indeed produced a different effect. Because now, he felt not consumed but... transformed.

The security footage showed Lin Ye's body becoming transparent, as if being decomposed by some unknown frequency. He tried to scream, but the sound emerging was no longer human—instead, an incomprehensible frequency that shattered the studio glass.

In the final frame, his body dissolved into countless points of light, dissipating into the air like television static, leaving only a still-functioning headset, the microphone light still glowing, indicating the broadcast continued—but the host was no longer there.

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In the days that followed, a series of inexplicable phenomena occurred throughout the city. Residents reported hearing Lin Ye's voice from various electronic devices—not just radios, but televisions, computer speakers, wireless intercoms, even children's toys. More bizarrely, some claimed to hear his voice in places without electronic equipment—from water pipes, radiators, even from inside walls.

The "Midnight Whispers" program continued broadcasting on schedule, the host's voice still Lin Ye's, but discussing topics he had never mentioned while alive—the power of sound, passageways between dimensions, protection and sealing. Each broadcast ended with a number sequence: 47918.

Experts attempted to explain these phenomena—radio interference, mass hallucination, pre-recorded programs—but no explanation fully accounted for everything. Station management refused to comment on Lin Ye's disappearance, merely announcing he had resigned for personal reasons and that they were seeking a new host for "Midnight Whispers."

Strangely, however, whenever a new host attempted to take over the program, Lin Ye's voice would emerge from the microphone, as if he had never left. More unsettling still, since Lin Ye's disappearance, the strange phenomena once common throughout the city seemed to have diminished, as if some unstable force had been temporarily sealed.

Only Zhang Ming knew the truth. On the night Lin Ye vanished, he felt an unprecedented power fluctuation, different from the pattern of previous host disappearances. Perhaps Lin Ye had accomplished the impossible—both opening the door and sealing it, at the cost of becoming part of the seal himself, forever existing among sound waves and frequencies.

Zhang Ming returned to his small apartment at the city's edge and opened his heavy notebook, writing on the final page:

"Lin Ye, the 37th host of 'Midnight Whispers,' disappeared at midnight on the 30th day. Unlike previous patterns, the city's anomalous phenomena appear to have decreased. Hypothesis: He may have successfully altered the incantation's effect, transforming himself into some kind of guardian. Continuing observation..."

He closed the notebook and gazed out at the city's nightscape. Countless lights flickered in the darkness, countless radio waves traveled through the air, countless voices transmitted through the frequencies... and beneath it all, Lin Ye's voice persisted, like an invisible barrier guarding the door between two worlds that should never be opened...

------

The proprietor's voice resonated throughout the courtyard, the final syllable carrying that peculiar echo effect, slowly fading into the night. The ten listeners remained speechless, each face showing varying degrees of shock and unease.

"Is this story... true?" Young Huang couldn't help asking, his fingers unconsciously touching the phone in his pocket, as if confirming its existence.

The proprietor smiled faintly and closed his folding fan. "Every story contains elements of truth. The key is knowing how to discern them."

Professor Zhang thoughtfully adjusted his glasses. "This reminds me of the ancient concept of 'mediums.' Many cultures have legends of people who could connect different worlds—shamans, priests, witch doctors... they served as bridges through specific sounds, dances, or symbols."

"Indeed." The proprietor nodded. "Some connect worlds through sound, while others..." his gaze fell upon Ms. Lin, lingering on the antique camera pendant at her neck, "connect through images."

Ms. Lin unconsciously touched her pendant, feeling an unusual chill.

"Tomorrow night," the proprietor stood, announcing the end of the evening's storytelling, "I will share a story about mirrors... about those consumed by the world within the looking glass..."