荔灣廣場的夜晚，總是有著一種說不出的詭異。白天的喧鬧與人潮彷彿只是掩蓋它真實面貌的假象，而當最後一間店鋪拉下鐵門，整個商場陷入黑暗時，才是它真正甦醒的時刻。阿成是一名夜班保全，接手這份工作已經三個月了。他原本以為這只是份普通的差事，巡邏、檢查設備，然後在監控室裡打發時間，直到天亮。但他很快發現，事情並沒有那麼簡單。
第一個月的夜班，阿成就聽說了關於荔灣廣場的種種傳聞。其他的保全們在休息室裡談笑風生，講著那些深夜裡的怪事，有人說看到電梯門自動打開卻空無一人，有人說聽到走廊盡頭傳來低語聲，但走近一看什麼都沒有。阿成一開始只當作是同事們消磨時間的玩笑話，並沒有太在意。然而，隨著夜晚的巡邏次數增多，他漸漸開始意識到，這些故事或許並非全然虛構。
一次，他在凌晨兩點巡邏到五樓的時候，突然聽到一陣清晰的腳步聲。那聲音從樓梯間傳來，一步一步地靠近。他停下腳步，握緊手中的手電筒，心跳不自覺地加快。腳步聲停了下來，像是那個「人」也察覺到了他的存在。阿成鼓起勇氣，大步走向樓梯間，但當他推開門時，裡面空無一人。只有冷風從樓梯間的縫隙裡灌進來，吹得他不禁打了個寒顫。
這件事讓阿成開始對荔灣廣場心生警惕，但他還是告訴自己，或許只是錯覺。然而，接下來的幾個星期，他開始頻繁地遇到一些難以解釋的現象。有一次，他在巡查電梯時，看到電梯門突然開啟。他以為是有人在使用電梯，但當他走近時，發現裡面空無一人。他按下關閉按鈕，但電梯卻遲遲未關。那一刻，他感覺到一股莫名的壓迫感，彷彿有什麼東西正站在他旁邊，冷冷地注視著他。
更奇怪的是，有一天晚上，他在監控室裡查看攝影機畫面時，發現某層樓的走廊盡頭出現了一個模糊的人影。那人影站在那裡一動不動，看不清面容。阿成連忙切換到其他攝影機角度，但無論怎麼調整，都找不到那個人影的蹤跡。等他回到原本的畫面時，人影已經消失了，只剩下一條空蕩蕩的走廊。
這些經歷讓阿成開始失眠，每次閉上眼睛，那些詭異的畫面就會浮現在腦海中。他甚至懷疑自己是不是因為壓力太大而產生了幻覺，但其他同事也陸續向他提起類似的經歷。有一晚，同事小偉在巡邏時聲稱聽到了有人在哭泣，那哭聲低沉而淒厲，像是從地底深處傳來。他循著聲音找到了一間空置的店鋪，但裡面什麼都沒有，只剩下一片死寂。
阿成決定要搞清楚這些怪事背後的真相。他開始查閱荔灣廣場的歷史，發現這座商場建於上世紀九十年代，而在它落成之前，這片土地曾經是一片亂葬崗。據說當年施工時挖出了不少無名屍骨，有些工人甚至因此辭職不幹。但開發商為了節省成本，只是草草處理了一下，就直接開工建造商場。
阿成越查越覺得毛骨悚然，他開始懷疑，那些深夜裡的腳步聲、低語聲和模糊的人影，會不會就是那些未曾安息的靈魂？但即便如此，他仍然無法離職，畢竟這份工作是他目前唯一的收入來源。他只能告訴自己，只要小心謹慎，不去招惹那些「東西」，應該就不會有事。
然而，有一天晚上，一件徹底改變他命運的事情發生了。那天，他像往常一樣巡邏到四樓的一個廢棄角落，那裡曾經是一家賣古董的小店，如今早已人去樓空。當他經過時，他聽到了微弱的低語聲，那聲音像是從店鋪裡傳出來的。他猶豫了一下，但還是推開了門。一股濃重的霉味撲面而來，他用手電筒照向店內，只見地上散落著一些破舊的家具和灰塵覆蓋的雜物。
就在他準備離開時，他聽到了背後傳來輕輕的一聲「喂」。他猛地轉身，但什麼都沒看到。突然，他感到肩膀一沉，像是被什麼東西拍了一下。他大叫一聲，手中的手電筒掉在地上，光束亂晃之間，他隱約看到一道黑影從眼前掠過，然後消失在店鋪深處。
阿成再也忍受不了這種日子，他辭去了工作。然而，即使離開了荔灣廣場，那些詭異的記憶卻如影隨形地纏繞著他。他開始做噩夢，每次夢中都能看到那道模糊的人影，有時候站在走廊盡頭，有時候出現在他的床邊。他甚至覺得，那些東西已經跟著他回了家。
某個深夜，他被一陣腳步聲驚醒。那腳步聲從客廳傳來，一步一步地靠近他的臥室。他屏住呼吸，緊緊抓住被子，不敢發出半點聲音。腳步聲停在了房門前，他感覺到門後有什麼東西正在注視著他。突然，門把手緩緩轉動起來……
English Version
At night, Liwan Plaza takes on a presence entirely different from its daytime identity, where crowds, lights, and commerce mask something far older and far more unsettling beneath its foundations, and when the final shop shutters close and darkness settles into the corridors, the building seems to awaken in a way that cannot be easily explained, as though the silence itself carries weight, pressing into every corner and echoing through spaces that should be empty for Ah Shing, a night security guard who had only recently taken the job, the work initially seemed simple—routine patrols, equipment checks, long hours in the surveillance room—but it did not take long for him to realize that the stories he had heard from coworkers were not merely idle talk meant to pass the time, but fragments of something far more real, something that revealed itself slowly, one encounter at a time; during one of his early patrols around two in the morning, he heard footsteps emerging from the stairwell, clear and deliberate, each step echoing through the otherwise silent floor, and as he paused, gripping his flashlight more tightly, the sound stopped abruptly, as though whatever had been moving had become aware of his presence, and when he forced himself to investigate, pushing open the stairwell door, he found nothing but darkness and a cold draft that seemed to carry with it an unspoken warning; over the following weeks, the occurrences grew more frequent, more difficult to dismiss, from elevators opening on empty floors with no passengers inside to an oppressive sensation that lingered in enclosed spaces, as if something unseen stood just out of sight, observing without revealing itself, and one night, while reviewing surveillance footage, he saw it—a blurred figure standing at the far end of a corridor, motionless and indistinct, its form barely visible yet unmistakably present, and though he quickly switched camera angles in an attempt to locate it, the figure vanished completely, leaving behind only an empty hallway that offered no explanation for what he had witnessed; sleep became difficult after that, his mind replaying the image again and again, and when he spoke to other guards, he learned that his experience was not unique, that others had heard whispers in empty spaces, cries that seemed to rise from beneath the building itself, and faint movements that could never be traced to any visible source, and driven by a need to understand, he began researching the history of the site, uncovering details that sent a chill through him—the mall had been built over what was once a burial ground, a place where countless unmarked remains had been disturbed during construction, many of which were never properly relocated, and as he pieced together the stories and his own experiences, a disturbing possibility began to take shape, that the sounds, the figures, and the sensations were not random occurrences but remnants of something left unresolved, something that lingered beneath the surface, bound to the place yet capable of reaching beyond it; despite the growing fear, he continued working, convincing himself that as long as he remained cautious and did not interfere, he would be safe, but that belief was shattered one night when he encountered something he could no longer ignore, while patrolling an abandoned section of the fourth floor, a former antique shop long left empty, he heard a faint voice calling out from within, a soft “hello” that seemed directed specifically at him, and though every instinct told him to walk away, he pushed open the door, stepping into the musty darkness as his flashlight revealed nothing but dust-covered furniture and scattered debris, yet just as he turned to leave, he felt it—a sudden weight on his shoulder, as though a hand had rested there, followed by the unmistakable sensation of something moving past him, too fast to see clearly, leaving only a fleeting shadow in its wake; panic overtook him, and he fled the shop, the sound of his own footsteps echoing wildly as he returned to the security room, his heart pounding as he struggled to regain control, but from that moment on, something had changed, because even after he left the building, resigning from his position in an attempt to escape the growing dread, the experiences did not stop, instead following him into his personal life, manifesting in restless nights and vivid nightmares where the same shadowy figure appeared at the end of corridors or standing silently beside his bed, watching without expression; then, one night, he awoke to the sound he had hoped never to hear again—footsteps, slow and deliberate, moving through his own home, each step drawing closer to his bedroom door, and as he lay frozen in fear, barely daring to breathe, the sound stopped just outside, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed against the walls, and then, with agonizing slowness, he heard the handle begin to turn, the faint click echoing louder than anything he had ever experienced, and in that moment, he understood with terrifying clarity that whatever he had encountered in the mall had not been confined to that place, that it had followed him, attached itself to him in a way he could neither escape nor fully comprehend, and as the door began to open, he realized that some places do not simply hold their secrets within their walls—they carry them outward, into the lives of those who dare to notice, ensuring that once you have seen even a glimpse of what lies beneath, you can never truly return to the world as it once was, because the silence you thought was empty is no longer silent, and the darkness you once ignored is now watching, waiting, and listening, just as it always has been.
