北角的七姊妹道，白天看似平凡，夜晚卻總有些不尋常的氣息悄然流動。街燈微弱，車輛稀少，偶爾有行人匆匆而過，腳步聲在空曠的街道上回蕩，彷彿連空氣都在竊竊私語。這條街道的名字早已伴隨著一段古老的傳說深入人心，但真正了解它的人卻寥寥無幾。曾經有人說，七姊妹道的夜晚，若是仔細聆聽，能隱約聽到女子的低語與歌聲，那聲音飄渺而哀婉，如同從前世的記憶中流淌而來。
那天夜裡，陳小姐加班到很晚，打不到計程車，只好步行回家。她住在七姊妹道附近，但平日鮮少在深夜踏足這條街。街道靜得出奇，只有偶爾路過的車燈劃破黑暗，映照出路旁高樓的陰影。她加快了腳步，心裡有些不安。突然，她聽到遠處傳來一陣悠遠而微弱的歌聲，那歌聲似乎從某個角落飄來，但四周空無一人。她停下腳步，屏住呼吸，想分辨那歌聲的來源。
歌聲像是七個女子合唱般和諧，每個音符都帶著濃濃的哀愁，彷彿在訴說著某種難以言喻的悲傷。陳小姐感到脊背一陣寒意，她四處張望，卻看不到任何人影。她試著告訴自己這只是風聲，但內心深處卻有一股無法言喻的不安在滋長。她加快腳步，幾乎是跑著回到家中，但那歌聲卻像影子一般緊隨其後，直到她關上門，那歌聲才戛然而止。
隔天，她向鄰居提起昨晚的怪事，鄰居只是淡淡地笑了笑，說：「你可能遇到七姊妹了。」陳小姐愣住了，她聽過七姊妹道的傳說，但從未想過自己會親身感受到那股詭異的氛圍。鄰居接著說：「她們不會害人的，只是有時候會出現在夜晚，唱著她們最後一天在泉水旁的歌。」
陳小姐不信邪，但心中仍舊惴惴不安。當晚，她忍不住又走到七姊妹道，想一探究竟。街道依舊靜謐，但當她走到靠近原本泉水的位置時，那熟悉的歌聲再次響起。她屏息聆聽，試圖捕捉歌聲中的某些訊息。突然，她看到前方有七個模糊的身影，在街燈下若隱若現。她僵住了，不敢移動分毫。
那些身影漸漸清晰，是七個穿著白色長裙的女子，她們手牽著手，緩緩地向陳小姐走來。她們的臉上帶著溫柔卻悲傷的微笑，其中一人輕聲說：「妳聽到了我們的歌，是嗎？」陳小姐點了點頭，卻無法開口回答。另一名女子接著說：「我們只是想讓人記得我們曾經存在過。」她們的聲音柔和如海風，但每個字都讓陳小姐感到心頭一沉。
突然間，那些女子像煙霧般消散，只剩下街道上的微弱光線與冷冷的夜風。陳小姐站在原地許久，直到歌聲完全消失才慢慢回過神來。她不知道自己是否真的見到了七姊妹，也不知道那段傳說背後是否藏有更多未解之謎。但從那天起，她開始相信，在這繁忙的都市之中，或許真的存在一些被時間遺忘的靈魂，它們靜靜地等待被人記住。
七姊妹道仍然日復一日地迎接著行人與車輛，但在深夜裡，那些飄渺的歌聲與白色身影似乎依然存在，只是大多數人選擇忽略，而那些偶然聽到或看到的人，也許會將這段故事烙印在心底，成為永遠無法忘懷的一部分。在這繁忙都市背後，那些靈異的氣息依舊悄然流動，如同海邊的浪花一般，不斷地訴說著那些被遺忘的故事。
English Version
By day, Seven Sisters Road appears no different from any other busy urban street, lined with passing traffic, residential towers, and the steady rhythm of everyday life, yet when night falls and the crowds thin out, a quieter, more elusive atmosphere begins to surface, as though something long forgotten stirs gently beneath the surface of the modern city, carried in the faint glow of streetlights and the hollow echo of footsteps that travel further than they should in the stillness, and it is within this fragile silence that the old legend of the Seven Sisters lingers, a story whispered more than spoken, known to few in detail yet deeply embedded in the identity of the street itself it is said that long ago, before the area was transformed by urban development, there existed a natural spring near the shoreline where seven young women would gather, bound together by a deep and unbreakable sisterhood, their voices often rising in song as they spent their days by the water, their laughter and melodies weaving into the fabric of the place, until one day, for reasons lost to time or perhaps deliberately obscured, tragedy struck, and the seven sisters disappeared from the world of the living, leaving behind only fragments of memory and a lingering presence that refused to fade; in the present day, most people pass through the street without a second thought, unaware of the stories that quietly persist beneath the surface, but for those who find themselves there late at night, especially alone, there are moments when the air seems to shift, when the boundary between past and present grows thin, and on one such night, a woman named Miss Chan experienced something that would forever alter her understanding of the place, having worked late and finding herself unable to secure transportation home, she chose to walk along Seven Sisters Road despite her unfamiliarity with the area at that hour, the street unusually empty, illuminated only by scattered pools of light that left long stretches in shadow, and as she walked, a faint unease settled over her, an instinctive awareness that she was not entirely alone, though no one else was visible; then, without warning, she heard it—a distant, haunting melody carried on the night air, so soft at first that she questioned whether it was real, yet unmistakably structured, as if multiple voices were singing in unison, their tones blending into a harmony that was both beautiful and deeply sorrowful, and as she stopped to listen more closely, the sound seemed to grow clearer, revealing the impression of seven voices intertwined, each note carrying a weight of longing and memory that resonated beyond simple explanation, sending a chill through her despite the gentle quality of the sound; she turned slowly, searching for the source, but the street remained empty, the buildings silent, offering no clue as to where the song originated, and though she tried to convince herself it was nothing more than the wind or a distant echo, the emotional pull of the melody suggested something far more intentional, something that wanted to be heard, and overcome by a mixture of fear and curiosity, she hurried home, yet the song seemed to follow her, lingering at the edges of her perception until she reached the safety of her apartment, where it ceased abruptly the moment she closed the door; the next day, when she shared her experience with a neighbor, she was met not with disbelief but with quiet recognition, the neighbor explaining calmly that she may have encountered the Seven Sisters themselves, adding that they were not known to harm anyone but would sometimes appear in the night, singing the same song they had sung on their final day by the spring, as if preserving a moment that refused to be erased; though skeptical, Miss Chan could not dismiss what she had heard, and later that same night, driven by an unexplainable urge, she returned to the street, retracing her steps until she reached the area believed to be closest to the original spring, and as if responding to her presence, the melody emerged once more, clearer than before, wrapping around her like a gentle but inescapable current, and this time, as she stood still and listened, she saw them—seven faint figures forming ahead, their shapes gradually becoming more defined beneath the streetlight, revealing young women dressed in flowing white garments, their hands linked as they moved slowly toward her, their expressions calm yet tinged with a sadness that seemed to transcend time; frozen in place, she could only watch as one of them spoke softly, asking if she could hear their song, and though she found herself unable to respond verbally, she nodded, her acknowledgment met with a quiet sense of understanding, another of the figures explaining that they wished only to be remembered, their voices carrying the same gentle sorrow as their music, and before she could fully comprehend the moment, the figures began to fade, dissolving into the night air like mist, leaving behind only the echo of their song and the empty street once more; she remained there for some time, unable to move, until the silence returned completely, and though she could not determine whether what she had witnessed was real or imagined, the experience left an indelible impression on her, altering the way she perceived the city around her, and from that day forward, she carried with her the quiet understanding that beneath the layers of modern life, there exist stories that have not truly ended, presences that linger not out of malice but out of a desire to be remembered, and even now, as Seven Sisters Road continues to function as a normal part of the city, those who pass through it late at night may, if they listen carefully enough, hear the faint traces of a distant melody carried on the wind, a reminder that some voices, once raised together in life, continue to echo long after they have left the world behind, waiting patiently for someone willing to hear them again.
