Three-Watch Night: The Haunting Echoes of the Silent Stage

In the heart of a forgotten city, there stood a dilapidated theater that had seen better days. The marquee, once a beacon of light, now sagged under the weight of age and neglect. It was here, in the dimly lit backstage, that a haunting tale unfolded, one that would send shivers down the spines of those who dared to uncover its secrets.

Liu Hua, a young theater enthusiast, had always been fascinated by the legends surrounding the old theater. His curiosity was piqued when he stumbled upon an old, dusty journal detailing the life of an actor named Chen, who had mysteriously vanished without a trace. Liu decided to delve deeper into Chen’s story, hoping to uncover the truth behind the actor’s disappearance.

The journal spoke of Chen as a prodigious talent, known for his ability to captivate audiences with his performances. However, there was a darker side to Chen’s career. It was said that he had a peculiar habit of performing a three-watch routine—a ritual that involved staying on stage for three consecutive nights without sleep. It was a tradition believed to bring him closer to his art, but it was also rumored to drive him mad.

Determined to uncover the truth, Liu paid a visit to the old theater. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of decay. As he navigated the labyrinthine backstage, Liu couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. The theater’s silence was deafening, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards and the distant echo of laughter from the past.

Liu found himself in a small, dimly lit dressing room. On the wall, a large mirror stood as a silent witness to the actor’s past. As Liu approached, he noticed that the mirror was cracked—a sign of age, or perhaps something more sinister. He ran his fingers over the cracks, feeling the rough edges beneath his skin.

Suddenly, the room grew cold. Liu turned around to find nothing but the empty dressing room. He shivered, unable to shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him. Determined not to be deterred, he continued his search.

He eventually stumbled upon a small, locked trunk. The key was lying on top of the trunk, a stark contrast to the rusted lock. Liu inserted the key with a trembling hand, and the lock gave way with a loud click. Inside, he found a collection of old scripts, letters, and photographs.

One photograph in particular caught Liu’s attention. It was a picture of Chen, standing on stage, the spotlight shining brightly on his face. Liu’s eyes widened as he noticed that Chen’s eyes were closed, as if he were still in the midst of performance. He reached out to touch the photograph, and as his fingers brushed against the surface, the image began to shimmer.

Liu’s heart raced as he felt a sudden chill. The photograph seemed to come alive, and Chen’s eyes opened. Liu’s breath caught in his throat as Chen’s gaze met his. The actor’s expression was one of intense sorrow and confusion. In that moment, Liu knew he was witnessing something supernatural.

Just then, the lights in the room flickered, and a voice echoed from the darkness. "Who dares to awaken me?" the voice demanded. Liu spun around, but there was no one there. The voice was like a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand souls.

Liu took a deep breath and faced the voice. "I’m Liu Hua," he said. "I’ve come to find out why you disappeared."

The voice laughed, a sound that was both eerie and chilling. "You seek answers, but you will never find them. For you see, I am not the man you think I am. I am a spirit, bound to this place by my own tragic fate."

Liu’s mind raced as he pieced together the puzzle. Chen had been a brilliant actor, but his three-watch routine had driven him mad. On the third night, he had become so entranced by his performance that he had forgotten the world outside the stage. He had stumbled into the orchestra pit, and the weight of his costume had caused him to collapse, suffocating him to death.

The spirit of Chen spoke again, "I was haunted by the voices of my audience, demanding more, more, and more. I tried to perform, but my body failed me. And so, I was trapped here, forever trapped."

Liu felt a pang of sorrow for the actor’s tragic end. "Why did you come back to this place?" he asked.

The spirit sighed. "I was searching for peace, but I found only more suffering. I wanted to warn others, to tell them of the dangers of obsession. But my voice was lost in the echoes of the theater."

At that moment, the lights went out, and the room was plunged into darkness. Liu could hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he knew it was Chen, his spirit searching for release.

The footsteps stopped in front of Liu, and a hand reached out to him. "I am no longer haunted by the past," Chen’s voice said. "Now, I am free. Thank you for understanding my story."

Liu felt the hand grasp his own, and for a moment, he was able to see through Chen’s eyes. The world around him seemed to blur, and then he was back in the dressing room, the lights flickering once more.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself alone. The photograph of Chen was still in his hand, and he knew that he had been touched by the actor’s spirit. He left the theater, feeling lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

The old theater remained, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets of the past. But Liu Hua had been forever changed by the haunting echoes of the three-watch actor, and he knew that he would never forget the night he had been visited by the spirit of Chen.