My name is Lin Wan. I'm twenty-four, working as a layout designer at a print shop south of the city. My life repeats like a copy from a machine—every day is just a reprint of the one before.
I was debating whether to go downstairs for a popsicle when Chen Yu texted me. He sent a photo of Happy Star, the newly opened amusement park south of the city.
"Wanna come? I have an extra ticket."
Chen Yu was my college classmate. He taught painting at a children's training center. Girls were always around him. I couldn't guess who he'd been seeing this time. I remembered he was afraid of Ferris wheels as a kid—said riding them gave him nightmares.
"Ticket's already for 2 PM. Would be a waste not to go."
I glanced out the window. The sun blazed white, glaring off the glass of the building across the street.
I'd been cooped up at home alone. I'd moved to the south side three months ago, and besides coworkers, I'd barely made any new friends. Most weekends I just lay around scrolling on my phone until my eyes hurt, then ordered takeout, ate, and kept scrolling.
It felt like I wasn't living. I was just waiting for life to pass by.
I thought for a moment, then texted back: Okay.
I arrived at Happy Star almost at two. The sun made my head spin. Loudspeakers blared children's songs at the entrance. A few kids screamed at the top of their lungs, running over from the carousel. Chen Yu waited for me in the shade by the ticket booth, with a girl standing next to him—long hair, white dress, holding a tiny pink fan blowing at her face.
When I got closer, I saw her face clearly. She wore makeup, with long eyeliner wings. She looked younger than any of the girls Chen Yu had brought around before—probably still in college.
Chen Yu waved when he saw me. "You're here!" He shoved the ticket into my hand. As he scanned the code on his phone, he told me the park had opened just last month. It was viral on Douyin. The Ferris wheel was called the Eye of the South, sixty-eight meters tall—the highest in the city.
The girl beside him added, "You can see half of southern city from the top."
I looked at her. She smiled, showing two little fangs. Chen Yu introduced her as Xiao He. He didn't say if she was his girlfriend, and I didn't ask.
Happy Star wasn't big, but it had everything: carousels, bumper cars, pirate ships, drop towers. It was crowded on Saturday afternoon. Lines formed at every ride. The air smelled like popcorn and grilled sausages, mixed with kids' sweat and sunscreen.
Chen Yu took Xiao He to line up for the pirate ship and asked if I was joining. I glanced at how high it swung and said I'd wait below. He laughed and called me a coward. I said he'd known me long enough.
I sat on a nearby bench and scrolled short videos for a while. It got boring, so I looked up at the sky. It was an unreal shade of blue, like it had been edited on. Not a single cloud. The sun beat straight down, making my eyes blur. I looked at my shadow and noticed its edges were fuzzy, like ink smudged by water on concrete.
In the distance, the Ferris wheel turned slowly—so slowly you could barely tell it was moving unless you stared. The cars were made of translucent glass, glinting in the sun, rising one by one, pausing at the top, then drifting back down.
I watched it complete one full circle. Then another.
Near the top of the second loop, I noticed something strange.
Someone was sitting inside one of the cars. I couldn't see clearly through the glass, but I could make out dark clothes. The person sat completely still. A full rotation took about twenty minutes—there was no way they could've stayed inside the whole time. But I definitely hadn't seen them get off.
Maybe I just missed it.
Chen Yu and Xiao He stepped off the pirate ship. Xiao He's hair was messy. She laughed as she tucked it behind her ears. Chen Yu said we were going on the Ferris wheel next. I asked if it was included in the ticket. He said yes, it was an all-access pass.
The line wasn't long. We waited about ten minutes. The worker was a thin-faced man with high cheekbones, wearing a blue uniform. He glanced at the three of us.
The moment the door closed, the smell hit me—mold mixed with disinfectant, faint but stubborn. Chen Yu's palm was sweating. He gripped the handrail tightly, his knuckles white.
Xiao He smelled it too. She wrinkled her nose and whispered, "What's that smell?" Chen Yu said it was probably the air conditioner. There was an vent above us, but no air came out.
The Ferris wheel began to rise. So slowly I could barely feel the movement. Only by watching the world outside the glass did I realize the ground was shrinking away.
Xiao He took photos with her phone. Chen Yu leaned in for selfies with her. I leaned against the glass and looked out. The rides shrank into toys, the parking lot into neat little dots, the city's buildings spreading out in gray and white, like someone had spilled a box of building blocks.
After about ten minutes, we reached the top.
Sixty-eight meters wasn't *that* high, but the view was wide. To the south, I could see the river. To the north, the city's landmarks. To the east, an undeveloped field overgrown with weeds.
Xiao He suddenly said, "Hey… is there another amusement park over there?"
She pointed east, past the empty field. I followed her finger. At first I saw nothing—just a gray, hazy horizon. But after staring a few seconds, I saw it. My throat tightened. Goosebumps crawled up my neck.
It wasn't clear, but I could make out lights—dozens of them, red, green, yellow, blue, packed tightly together. Against the dull horizon, they shone unnaturally bright, as if pasted on with Photoshop.
Chen Yu saw it too. "No way. There's another park? I never heard of it."
I held up my phone, zoomed in all the way, and took several photos. The screen was blurry from the magnification, but I could still make out shapes: a Ferris wheel, roller coaster tracks, a carousel canopy, even thin beams of light spinning like some kind of show.
"Must be newly opened," I said.
Xiao He shook her head and suddenly grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "I grew up here. I'd know if there was an amusement park around here. That east side has always been empty…" Her voice trembled. "We shouldn't be looking."
Chen Yu's face paled. He stared at the lights, lips white, unable to speak. Later he said the location, the gray tone—it was exactly like the one from his childhood nightmares.
The Ferris wheel began to descend. The smell of mold and disinfectant grew stronger. I held my breath. The lights were gradually blocked by terrain and buildings until they vanished behind the horizon.
After we got off, I looked at the photos I'd taken. The zoomed ones were too blurry to make out anything. But one casual shot, taken at the top without zooming, showed the city skyline with the other park barely visible at the far right edge.
I magnified that tiny corner.
This time, I saw it clearly.
The pixels were low, but the Ferris wheel was recognizable. It looked older than Happy Star's. The cars weren't glass—they were old metal ones, painted red and white.
But what really unsettled me wasn't the style.
It was the people inside.
Every single car had someone sitting inside. The red-and-white metal cars had small windows, just enough to see silhouettes. I zoomed in again and again, until the image turned to mosaic, but I could still tell: every car held a human shape, all facing the same direction.
Toward us.
Toward Happy Star.
I can't describe the feeling. It wasn't exactly fear. More like a strange, wrong sense of dissonance—like walking down a road you'd taken hundreds of times, only to suddenly notice a tree that seemed like it had always been there.
Chen Yu leaned over to look at my screen. "This is too blurry to see anything." I agreed, saying the zoom wasn't good enough. He dropped it and turned to discuss the next ride with Xiao He.
They went to bumper cars. I waited outside. The sun was still strong, but I felt cold, as if someone had pressed an ice block to my back. The chill slid down my spine and settled at my waist.
I opened the photo again.
The amusement park looked clearer in the picture than it had to my naked eye. The phone had automatically adjusted the contrast, making the lights brighter and the Ferris wheel sharper. I pinched the screen in and out, staring over and over.
Every car really did have someone inside.
But what truly chilled me was something else.
When I'd looked with my own eyes from the Ferris wheel, I'd seen nothing at first—just a gray horizon. The lights, the Ferris wheel, they'd only slowly appeared after I stared, like seeping out from the background.
And Chen Yu and Xiao He had only seen it *after* I did.
It was as if that amusement park didn't exist… until someone looked at it.
I laughed at the thought. Lin Wan, I told myself, you've been staying home too much. You're seeing ghosts in an amusement park.
Chen Yu and Xiao He came back from the bumper cars. Her hair was messy again. Chen Yu tidied it for her naturally—they'd clearly been together for a while. They asked if I wanted to ride the carousel. I said no, you two go ahead.
Chen Yu gave me a look. "What's wrong with you today? You're on your phone the whole time." I said I wasn't, just thinking. "About what?" he asked. "Tomorrow's lunch," I replied. He smiled and didn't push.
We stayed until nearly five. The sun softened, and the park's lights turned on. Happy Star's lights were modern LED strips, colorful and dynamic. But for some reason, they felt fake, like something was missing.
Xiao He said she was hungry. Chen Yu suggested we leave. We passed the Ferris wheel on the way out. It was lit up now, lined with blue LEDs, looking like a string of glowing beads turning slowly in the sky.
I watched it complete a circle.
At the top, I glanced east again.
The field lay quiet in the dusk. Nothing was there.
On the subway home, I looked at the photo once more. The signal was weak, and it loaded slowly, sharpening bit by bit.
The other amusement park was still there.
Ferris wheel, roller coaster, carousel… and the people inside the cars.
I stared for a long time, then impulsively posted it to my Moments with the caption: Is there an abandoned amusement park east of the south city?
I put my phone away after posting.
When I got home, I took a shower and sat under the fan for half an hour. When I checked my Moments, Chen Yu had commented: "That doesn't look like Happy Star. The red-and-white metal cars look like Star Park from the old south side—it was torn down years ago."
Xiao He also commented: "I went there when I was little. It was demolished in 2008. Elders used to say kids cried there at night and told me not to look."
I searched Star Park online. Information was scarce, but old photos showed exactly the Ferris wheel in my picture.
Demolished in 2008. Fifteen years ago.
The amusement park that had appeared and vanished before my eyes… it shouldn't exist.
I barely slept that night. The fan hummed. Streetlight seeped through the curtains, painting the ceiling yellow. I tossed and turned, thinking over and over, stuck in a loop.
Eventually I drifted off and had a dream.
In the dream, I sat inside that red-and-white Ferris wheel. The metal burned hot from the sun. I touched it and yanked my hand back. I looked out the window and saw another amusement park, bright with lights, its glass cars glinting.
Not a single person was inside.
All the rides were running—carousel spinning, coaster racing—but no one was on them.
I tried to read the park's name, but it stayed blurry. A figure waved at me from far away. I couldn't see its face, but I knew I recognized it.
I woke up the next morning sweating. The air conditioner was still broken, but the heat didn't feel like the weather. It felt like the burning metal from the dream had seeped into my skin.
I picked up my phone.
A few new comments under my post. One from my mom: "Kid, why are you being weird so late at night?" Another from a college classmate I barely knew: "Looks like there are people in the photo."
I opened the picture again.
My body locked up. I couldn't move.
The amusement park was still there. The Ferris wheel. The people in the cars.
But their direction had changed. I blinked. The figure in the middle car… looked exactly like me.
My fingers trembled.
It was impossible. I'd taken the photo yesterday afternoon at Happy Star. I'd been wearing a dark blue T-shirt. The person in the center car—the posture, the clothes, the position—
It was me.
How could I be on two Ferris wheels at once?
I sent the photo to Chen Yu. Does the person in the middle look like me? A few minutes later he replied with a voice message, mouth full, sounding unclear: "Can't really tell. It's just pixels. If you say so."
Look carefully. Zoom in.
After a long pause, another voice message, his voice rough: "It… it does."
Then text: "But you were at Happy Star yesterday. This is the other one, right?"
I replied: Yes.
He didn't speak. Half a minute later, he sent three ellipses.
It was Sunday. I'd planned to stay home and finish a show. But the photo burned in my head. I couldn't sit still. I changed clothes, left the house, and took the subway to Happy Star.
Sunday was even busier than Saturday. A long line snaked at the entrance. I bought a single ticket—only for the Ferris wheel—and walked straight over.
I stared at the photo in my phone while waiting. The people in the cars had turned again. Now they all faced the glass, facing outward. I didn't notice when it happened—maybe the moment I opened the picture.
When it was my turn, the same thin, high-cheekboned worker was there. He glanced at me, his mouth twitching like he almost smiled.
"You're back," he said. "Don't keep looking east."
I didn't understand. He closed the door.
The Ferris wheel rose. Today was hotter. The mold-and-disinfectant smell was stronger. I pressed against the glass, eyes fixed east.
Up, up, up.
The ground fell away. Happy Star shrank. The parking lot became dots. Buildings became blocks.
We reached the top.
I looked east.
Nothing.
No lights. No Ferris wheel. No roller coaster tracks. No carousel canopy. Only the gray, empty field, weeds swaying in the wind, a messy mix of green and dust, like someone had splashed dirty paint across the ground.
I stayed at the top for minutes, staring until my eyes stung. Nothing appeared.
The amusement park was gone.
I took photos of the field—zoomed, unzoomed, horizontal, vertical. Every picture showed only weeds, dirt, a distant concrete path. Nothing else.
A silly idea crossed my mind, but I did it anyway. I turned off my phone, waited ten seconds, then restarted it. I opened the album and found yesterday's photo.
It was still there.
The other park. The red-and-white Ferris wheel. The people inside. But this time—when I blinked—the pixels rearranged. Fourteen faces. All mine.
I stared for what felt like forever until the car swayed slightly. The Ferris wheel was descending. The worker opened the door below, watching me expressionlessly as I stepped out.
I left Happy Star. The sun burned, but I felt cold—not from temperature, but from deep inside my bones.
I called Chen Yu. He answered after several rings. "Do you still have the photo I sent yesterday?" I asked. "Yeah, why?" "Open it. Look at the faces."
Silence on the line. Then: "I'm looking. What about it?"
"What do you see?"
"Just blurry faces. Can't really tell."
"Zoom in."
More silence. His breathing grew heavy, like he was holding something back. After a long while, he spoke, his voice raw: "Lin Wan… every single one is my face."
His voice shook.
"Send me your copy," I said.
He hung up. About a minute later, he sent a photo via WeChat. Taken from his angle on the Ferris wheel, facing east. The composition was different, but the same red-and-white Ferris wheel was there.
I zoomed in on the cars.
Every face was Chen Yu's.
I opened my own photo again. My face.
Same park. Same Ferris wheel. Same moment. Photos from different angles. But different people inside. Mine was me. His was him.
It was as if everyone in that amusement park was our own reflection.
I sat on the flower bed at the park entrance, not caring how hot the concrete was. Chen Yu said he was coming right away. I said okay.
After hanging up, I flipped through my album. Other photos from yesterday—carousel, pirate ship, a picture of Chen Yu and Xiao He. All normal. No issues.
Only that one photo was wrong.
No.
I opened Chen Yu's photo again, this time looking past the Ferris wheel. Beneath the roller coaster, next to the carousel, in the corners—there were more figures.
I saw them.
Between the rides stood crowds of people. Not sitting, but standing, packed tightly from under the coaster to the carousel. Every single one faced the same direction: toward the camera. Toward whoever took the picture.
They were too far to see faces. But I didn't need to.
I knew what they looked like.
Mine.
Chen Yu's.
Our own.
I locked my phone and looked up. The sun still blazed. The park was still noisy—kids screaming, popcorn machines rumbling, children's songs blaring. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
But I suddenly remembered something I'd completely overlooked.
Yesterday on the Ferris wheel, after I took the photo and posted it, I put my phone away.
But right before I locked it, the screen had flickered.
Like a new message had arrived.
I'd thought it was spam. I'd ignored it.
Now I opened WeChat and scrolled up to yesterday afternoon. No unread messages. No notifications. Nothing.
But I found something else.
Beneath my mom's comment on my Moments, there was another one.
The profile picture was a Ferris wheel silhouette. The username was a string of numbers. The comment was only one line, short and cold:
"Did you see it at the top?"
I stared for a long time. I clicked into the profile. Empty. No posts, no bio, only a default gray silhouette. I had no memory adding this account.
I scrolled up our chat history to find the first message.
One week ago.
Only one message: a location share for Happy Star Amusement Park.
Attached line: "Come ride the Ferris wheel here. At the top, you'll see what you're looking for."
I had no memory receiving this.
No memory adding this person.
I couldn't even remember what I did a week ago. Those days were erased, leaving only a fuzzy gray, like the empty field.
Chen Yu arrived. He climbed out of a taxi, pale and shaken. He took my phone and read the comment and the old message.
Then he said something that turned my blood cold.
"Check when this account was registered."
I looked.
Registration date: June 15, 2008.
A date I would never forget.
I stood under the July sun, cold seeping from every pore. Happy Star's loudspeaker still played that children's song, the cheerful tune pounding against my skull.
"Come ride the Ferris wheel here. At the top, you'll see what you're looking for."
What was I looking for? I couldn't remember. But my hand had already opened the location. My feet had already carried me here. I had already—
My screen flashed. I saw myself typing a Moments post: Is there an abandoned amusement park east of the south city?
I didn't remember writing that.
A question hit me—one I should have asked long ago.
On the Ferris wheel, Chen Yu said both he and Xiao He saw the other park. Xiao He saw it first, then me, then Chen Yu.
But Xiao He said she grew up here. She said the east side had always been empty. She'd never heard of any amusement park being built there.
When she spoke, her tone had been certain.
Now I realized that certainty didn't sound like memory.
It sounded like instinct.
An instinct to warn herself not to look.
Chen Yu called my name several times before I snapped back. He said he wanted to call Xiao He and tell her everything. I told him to wait. Call her first and ask what she really saw yesterday.
He dialed.
Rings. No answer. He called again. Still nothing. On the third try, someone picked up—but it wasn't Xiao He.
A man's voice, calm, too calm for a stranger. "Xiao He can't come to the phone right now."
"Who are you?" Chen Yu asked.
No reply. The line went dead.
Chen Yu called again. She was turned off.
We stood at Happy Star's entrance, staring at each other. The sun shortened our shadows into small black puddles at our feet.
I looked down at my own shadow.
It tilted.
Just once.
Then returned to normal.
I stared for several seconds. Chen Yu asked what was wrong. I said nothing.
But I knew I hadn't imagined it.
My shadow had twisted.
Toward the east.
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