Horror Short Story | Food Delivery

Shen Jing was hungry late at night and ordered food delivery. The app showed the store had accepted the order and it would arrive in thirty minutes. He settled on the sofa, waiting, scrolling through his phone. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. He opened the door, and the delivery person stood there, wearing a full-face helmet with the brim pulled low, obscuring their face. They held a paper bag and handed it to him. "Sir, your order." Shen Jing took the bag and found it strange—he had ordered hot soup, but the bag was cold, as if it had just come out of the refrigerator. He looked down at the order details. The food was correct, but an extra line had been added to the notes section, something he hadn't typed: "Please eat it while it's hot. It's no good when it gets cold." He looked up to ask the delivery person, but they were already gone. The hallway was empty, not even the elevator had moved. Shen Jing closed the door and placed the bag on the table. He opened it to find a bowl of soup, but the soup was black and smelled faintly of rust. He didn't dare drink it and threw the whole bag in the trash. The next morning, he opened his phone to leave a negative review for the store, but he couldn't find the order in his history. He searched for a long time, but last night's order had vanished into thin air. He assumed the app had malfunctioned and didn't think much of it. That night, the doorbell rang again. At the same time, the same delivery person, the same full-face helmet. This time, a note was attached to the paper bag: "You didn't eat it yesterday. Wasting food is not good." Shen Jing tried to close the door, but the delivery person reached out and held it open. Their hand was unnaturally pale, with dirt packed under the fingernails. "Sir," a muffled voice came from inside the helmet, "we have a rule at our store. Once the food is delivered...