Avoid the number 4, as it sounds like “death” and brings bad luck

Setting:
Two friends, Wei (superstitious) and Jian (rational), are having coffee at a cozy café in Shanghai. They’ve just moved into new apartments, and the conversation turns to their recent experiences.

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Wei:
Jian, you won’t believe what happened yesterday. I was about to sign the lease on this perfect apartment, but then I saw the unit number: 804. Nope. Not happening. Eight is good, but that four at the end? No way. I canceled it on the spot.

Jian:
Wait, you backed out because of the number four?

Wei:
Of course! Don’t you know? “Four” sounds like “death” in Chinese. Sì and sǐ — practically identical! I’m not living in an apartment of doom.

Jian:
Wei, come on. You’re giving a number way too much power. You know I live on the 14th floor, right? And I’m very much alive.

Wei: (eyes widening)
Jian! You’re tempting fate! Why would you even say that out loud?

Jian:
Because I believe in physics, not phantoms. Numbers are human-made symbols. A digit can’t curse you. It’s just… a squiggle on a door.

Wei:
Tell that to Mr. Zhang from work! He moved into unit 444, and a month later, his cat vanished, he got laid off, and his girlfriend left him — all in the same week! That number is cursed, I’m telling you.

Jian:
Or… maybe Mr. Zhang’s cat ran away because he never changed the litter box, the company downsized, and his girlfriend finally got tired of his karaoke obsession.

Wei: (laughs)
Okay, fair. His version of “My Heart Will Go On” was a crime.

Jian:
Exactly. Correlation isn’t causation. Bad stuff happens sometimes. If four were really that dangerous, all quadrants and four-legged chairs would be outlawed.

Wei:
But you can’t deny that in hospitals and hotels, they avoid the number four. It’s skipped in room numbers, elevator buttons — even floors. They wouldn’t do that unless people knew something.

Jian:
That’s psychology, not supernatural proof. Businesses avoid four because people like you avoid four, and they don’t want to lose customers. It’s economics, not evil spirits.

Wei:
Still, why take the risk? What if there’s even a tiny chance it’s true?

Jian:
Then by that logic, shouldn’t we all avoid black cats, mirrors, and Friday the 13th too? Should I stop eating dumplings on Wednesdays just in case some ancient auntie thinks it’s unlucky?

Wei:
Only if she’s over 90 and gives great red envelopes.

Jian: (grinning)
Okay, fair trade. But seriously, don’t you ever wonder if this fear limits you? What if that 804 unit was your dream place — the perfect lighting for your plants, a neighbor who doesn’t play the flute at 2 a.m.?

Wei:
You make a good point. My current unit’s view is of a wall. And my neighbor is somehow learning the drums… in secret. But every time I think about 804, I just get this… feeling.

Jian:
Feelings are powerful, I get it. But sometimes our brains play tricks on us. Like how we see faces in clouds or hear ghost stories and suddenly feel cold. It’s imagination, not evidence.

Wei:
So you’re saying my fear of the number four is basically a psychological squatter in my brain?

Jian:
Exactly. And it’s paying no rent. Evict it.

Wei: (smiling)
You know what? Maybe I’ll give 804 another look. Worst case, I get to prove you wrong. Best case, I get my sunlight and peace.

Jian:
And if anything spooky does happen, you can always call me — the ghostbuster with a flashlight and a science degree.

Wei:
Deal. But if I see a shadow figure at 4:44 a.m., I’m moving in with you.

Jian:
Only if you bring dumplings.