After listening to the recording, the car fell into a brief silence.
That frantic, collapsing string of “I knew it” sent chills down the back, like something furry crawling its way into the pores, an itch that was almost unbearable. Half a minute later, Cheng Guang let out a breath, scratching at the goosebumps on his arm, and said with certainty, “Given my years of livestreaming experience, that woman is most likely dead.”
Jiang Yuqing: “Why?”
“It’s obvious. The moment the chewing sounds start, the woman stops talking. After that, there are muffled sounds like someone’s mouth being covered, laboured breathing, and something heavy hitting the ground.” Cheng Guang took Jiang Yuqing’s phone and played the recording again, concluding, “That’s the exact order! Sounds a lot like something covered her mouth while she was on the phone and ate her, bite by bite.”
With her arms crossed, Jiang Yuqing asked him, “Then what role is the woman’s husband playing?”
Cheng Guang: “Cannibalistic pervert, or an evil ghost!”
Jiang Yuqing put her phone away with a deadpan expression, “Thanks for your contribution, our contestant with half a year’s streaming experience.”
She ignored Cheng Guang and stood at the front of the car, facing everyone, including the camera. She spoke slowly, “Because the woman didn’t state her address during the call, didn’t provide details about the scene, and the content was too strange, the police were unable to respond.”
“But according to years of experience, the operator called back right away. Half an hour after the first call ended, the woman answered the phone.”
Jiang Yuqing’s face was calm as water:
“She was not only still alive but also emotionally stable. According to what she said on the phone, she was a horror novelist, sometimes in and out of reality, often imagining plots from her books in her daily life. The girl in the red dress was exactly the character she had written not long ago.”
“As for the chewing sound, it was her clenching her teeth in fear, teeth rattling from trembling. The sounds of struggle and the heavy thud were her backing up while covering her own mouth and knocking over clutter.”
Shen Huanhuan: “That explanation seems to make sense.”
Jiang Yuqing: “Yes, so the investigation ended, and no one followed up—if she hadn’t died six days ago.”
Cheng Guang sucked in a breath: “She died?!”
Jiang Yuqing: “Mm, bitten to death by the neighbours’ dog. Her right arm and thigh were gnawed clean. Her husband came home from work that night to find her mutilated remains at the doorstep, her bloody head rolled beside the broom. He called the police immediately.”
The air seemed to freeze for a moment. This manner of death was far too gruesome. A chill shot up Cheng Guang’s spine; he shivered violently. Jiang Yan glanced at him coldly, failing to understand how someone so timid could hunt ghosts.
With everything said, Jiang Yuqing straightened out the timeline, summarizing:
“Half a year ago, on October 14th last year, there was a fire in the tube-shaped apartment building. The top-floor residents were burned to death. This January, the Bureau detected an energy disruption there and immediately dispatched two psychics. The mission was successful, the top-floor spirits were erased, and energy returned to normal.”
“A week ago, an energy disorder occurred again. Soon after, police received the woman’s call reporting the red-dressed ghost. It was unclear if it was real or imagined. Three days after the call, six days ago, the woman died.”
“So, our current mission has two parts: one, determine the cause of the renewed energy disorder; two, find out if the woman’s death was related to supernatural entities.”
“Any other questions?”
Jiang Yan lifted her eyes: “What’s our identity this time?” Then, she stated the likeliest answer herself: “Police or new tenants?”
Both identities have their pros and cons. As police, investigations are legitimate, and suspects can be compelled to cooperate, but there is a sense of distance, and it easily alerts those with something to hide. As new tenants, they can investigate privately by getting closer to the original residents and obtain hidden clues, though the credibility and completeness of these clues are questionable.
A combination of both would be optimal.
They just didn’t know if the Supernatural Administration Bureau could get everyone a police identity.
Jiang Yan looked at Jiang Yuqing, who immediately responded: “Both. There’ll be a draw for roles.”
Jiang Yan lowered her eyes again, took out a piece of white card from her bag, wrote a few words on it, then leisurely ate the breakfast she’d filched earlier from Shen Huanhuan.
The lottery results came out quickly.
[Police Officers: Shen Huanhuan, Zhao Chong.]
[New Tenants: Jiang Yan, Shen Xiaoxiao, Cheng Guang, Lin Xinjui.]
*
It was less than a kilometer from here to Anping City’s largest garbage incineration plant. When Jiang Yan and the others got out of the car, the stench drifted over from afar. It wasn’t overpowering, but the trouble was that it was inescapable, the faint fishy odor lingering stubbornly.
Jiang Yan closed her eyes, looking a little uncomfortable.
“—Hey, here,” Shen Huanhuan shoved a stack of white masks into Jiang Yan’s arms. “Xiaoxiao and I always carry lots of masks when we travel far, just in case.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Yan took the masks, tore open the package, and casually asked, “Why do you normally carry these?”
“To cover up!” Shen Xiaoxiao chimed in with a grin. “My sister and I are so pale it’s… kind of scary, just like ghosts! To avoid frightening people, especially to not traumatize little kids, we always wear masks when we go out!”
Jiang Yan’s hand paused mid-action, then said flatly, “You don’t look like ghosts.”
Ghosts shouldn’t be that pale.
Since she’d accepted their help, Jiang Yan put on the mask and added, “It’s not scary at all. Very pretty.”
Shen Huanhuan lowered her head and smiled. Shen Xiaoxiao’s eyes curved into crescents. “I know. My sister said you praised us before!”
Jiang Yan didn’t recall that. Shen Xiaoxiao interpreted her expression and said at once, “You said we looked like snowflakes, remember!”
Jiang Yan remembered.
That was the first night in Silkworm Village; she and Shen Huanhuan were in bed talking because neither could sleep. She’d said then that Shen Huanhuan’s complexion looked like snow.
Was that a compliment? Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow, but her thoughts soon shifted elsewhere. “If I remember right, you two didn’t wear masks in Silkworm Village.”
“Yeah, but we arrived late,” Shen Xiaoxiao was quick to reply. “Later, during the day I always wore it, but my sister told me to take it off—she said Wang Baomin was frightening everyone, and a few villagers kept staring at your long legs. It was so gross, so she let me scare them—”
“Mm mm—!!”
Shen Xiaoxiao’s endless selling-out was abruptly silenced. For once, a hint of awkwardness showed in Shen Huanhuan’s gentle eyes. “Don’t listen to her nonsense. I never said that; those weren’t my words.”
Shen Xiaoxiao wriggled, trying to escape her big sister’s grip.
Jiang Yan watched the twins for a few seconds, a strange emotion flickered in her eyes—couldn’t say if it was indifference or appraisal—but it was hidden in a flash. She walked a couple of steps ahead, a slow smile spreading from her eyes to her lips.
“All right, all right,” she said.
Jiang Yan separated the two like shooing chicks. Instantly, Shen Xiaoxiao clung to her arm, pouting and clingy. “Thank you, Jiang Yan-jie, mwah!”
“……….”
Jiang Yan instinctively leaned back, hand moving before she thought, pushing the two back together at lightning speed.
Half a second of stiff air, then Jiang Yan calmly took back Shen Xiaoxiao’s arm.
“Want to share a room with me?” she asked.
Shen Xiaoxiao struggled to recover from the earlier rejection and replied naturally, “Of course, only the two of us are girls in the group. If you don’t sleep with me, what, want your own room?”
She patted her pocket, full of gusto. “Don’t think just because you took down Wang Baomin with one strike last time that you’re not still a newbie. You can’t protect yourself! I’ve got an armful of protective talismans; they’re awesome. I’ll keep you safe, you just focus on using your head!”
Jiang Yan said nothing.
She looked at Shen Huanhuan. “Let’s exchange numbers.”
“Okay.”
After the bus took Shen Huanhuan and Zhao Chong away, the four playing new tenants dragged their suitcases through the tube building’s iron gate. The tube-shaped building was from the late 70s and 80s, now obsolete and rarely seen in modern cities.
They were greeted by a woman in her fifties or sixties, wearing a green-and-pink floral scarf, badly permed hair, and a bulky figure that didn’t slow her down one bit. She bustled over energetically.
“You’re the new tenants, right?” The plump woman wiped her hands on her clothes and smiled. “Haven’t had newcomers in ages. I’m the rental manager—just call me Aunt Wang. Welcome, welcome!”
Jiang Yan pinched her nose, pushing her mask tighter. She’d hoped the air would be better inside, but although the stink was gone, the fishy smell was stronger.
Aunt Wang noticed Jiang Yan’s movement and explained, “There’s a guy who sells fish on the first floor, his temper stinks, I’ve told him to clean up, but he never listens. The smell’s bad, but rent here is the cheapest in Anping—hey, judging by your clothes… you don’t look like renters?”
She eyed up the four. Because the program didn’t reveal the destination beforehand, everyone had dressed normally. Lin Xinjui, in particular, was dressed in designer brands with over-the-ear headphones—a far cry from someone who’d live in a cramped, fish-smelling building.
Cheng Guang took a couple of steps toward her, smiling. “Auntie, don’t be fooled by big logos,” he pointed at the swoosh on his jacket, “It’s just for show, all market knockoffs. If we could afford proper food, we wouldn’t be renting in a place this remote!”
But even if he said that, the quality of their clothes was obvious. Aunt Wang’s eyes darted quickly, examining all four, before giving a knowing smile.
It was the same smile distant relatives show when they learn you broke up with your boyfriend of eight years right before engagement and then married a dashing, freshly graduated college guy in a flash. They attend your wedding, hand covering their mouths and craning their necks, whispering around to find out the story—exactly the smile on Aunt Wang’s face now.
Jiang Yan’s gaze flickered.
Aunt Wang grinned more mischievously. “Ay, don’t be shy, you’re young couples!” She pointed at herself, proud, “Seen plenty like you. Don’t be shy, just settle in!”
Shen Xiaoxiao looked utterly confused. “Young couples?”
Aunt Wang “ha-ed”, tossing keys to Jiang Yan and Shen Xiaoxiao. “Yes, there’s a couple like you upstairs too, ran away together—youthful romance! I’m very open-minded.”
Still, her pursed lips suggested otherwise.
Jiang Yan said nothing. Shen Xiaoxiao, however, was anxious: “No, auntie, what are you saying, I’m sharing with her!” She pointed at herself and Jiang Yan.
“We’re not—”
Before she could finish, in a flash, Lin Xinjui snatched the keys from Shen Xiaoxiao’s hand!
Shen Xiaoxiao stumbled and cried out, “Lin—”
Bang!
A bottle of water crashed to the floor, cap flying off, un-drunk water spraying everywhere. Shen Xiaoxiao jumped in fright.
Lin Xinjui gripped the keys tightly, gaze sweeping coldly over everyone, then scoffed.
“You just love to yap.”
Shen Xiaoxiao stamped her foot. “Not like we’re not giving it to you, why snatch it?” As soon as the words were out, Lin Xinjui lashed out, kicking a stack of iron sheets. The crash was deafening, as if the ground shuddered. Ignoring the shocked or icy stares, he stormed up the stairs after venting.
The group was silent.
After a while, Cheng Guang scratched his head, “Auntie, can you give me another set of keys? We’re really not couples, two girls in one room, me and that guy get a room each.”
“Okay, okay…” Aunt Wang stammered. She’d been shaken by Lin Xinjui’s rage earlier, her ears still ringing, but when she understood what Cheng Guang meant, she nodded rapidly. “Okay, no problem!”
More rooms are rented out.
Aunt Wang delightfully hustled for the heavy keyring. “Here you go.” She handed a labelled key to Cheng Guang, and as he was about to take it, Jiang Yan stopped them.
“Normally, we can pick our own rooms, right?”
Jiang Yan asked, “Looks like a lot of empty rooms, or are we not allowed to pick?”
Aunt Wang’s motion paused midair. After a moment, she awkwardly withdrew her hand. “Of course, you can pick. Little girl, you didn’t say so earlier. Lots of rooms look empty, but only seven or eight are livable. I already saved the best ones for you.”
Jiang Yan: “Thanks, but I’d still like to see them myself.”
[I thought so, why just take whatever keys someone hands you, as if you never rented before…]
[Shen Xiaoxiao probably really never rented; her sister always takes care of it, and she just takes what she’s given.]
[Cheng Guang doesn’t care. Jiangcheng Mountain is related to Maoshan, and Maoshan’s famous for wall-passing spells. Cheng Guang can go wherever he wants at night while investigating.]
[Jiang Yan just joined Jiangcheng Mountain recently, probably hasn’t learned wall-passing yet—so picking a room is important.]
[Yeah, what if she picks a room with clues?]
Jiang Yan not only hadn’t learned wall-passing, but she also knew nothing of any kind of Daoist arts, nor would she ever learn. A flicker of insight is needed for making talismans; the “qi” innate in humans connects them with the heavens. Heaven is fair—it gives nature spirits immortality and unique abilities born with their spirit, while humans gain an affinity with the Dao with this “qi” stored in their bodies. With self-reflection and cultivation, humans can “harmonize with qi”, realizing unity with heaven, unforgotten and undestroyed in reincarnation.
—Which is why, even after receiving the thousand-year blessing of the imperial tomb’s dragon vein, Jiang Yan possessed immense demonic power and could kill at will, but would never learn talismans or spells.
That was why Jiang Yan needed allies on this psychic show—to do the surface-level stuff involving spells and talismans so she wouldn’t get eliminated. She needed to qualify, as promised to He Qingyuan.
“Show us the rooms then.” Jiang Yan signalled for Shen Xiaoxiao to return the keys.
Aunt Wang smiled awkwardly, wrinkles closing on her face like battered old boot leather. “I really picked out the best rooms for you. Why don’t you believe me, girl?”
Cheng Guang laughed, “Grateful for hardship, Auntie. We like to develop inner strength through adversity!”
Aunt Wang: “….” Really, people these days.
*
Anping Tube Building had seven floors, a shared bathroom per floor, and the rest were apartments. Twelve units per floor, each twelve square meters, about the size of a high school dorm.
Aunt Wang led with the trio following behind. As she’d said, actually livable rooms were few: above the fifth floor, the walls were stained black from the fire half a year ago, plaster crumbling to reveal cement bricks. Even now, the fifth floor still smelled faintly burned—the walls had soaked up the scent.
“See, all the rooms I picked for you are on the third floor—clean walls, good water pressure, no junk left by previous tenants, don’t even need tidying. So convenient!” Aunt Wang gave Jiang Yan a reproachful look.
Jiang Yan smiled. “Thank you.” She pointed upstairs. “Why not show us floors six or seven?”
“Are you joking, young girl?” Aunt Wang eyed Jiang Yan suspiciously. “You’re not locals, are you?”
Jiang Yan: “No, why?”
Aunt Wang realized, “No wonder. Something happened upstairs, a fire, someone died! It’s unlucky. Even recently—” She stopped herself.
Jiang Yan: “Why stop?”
Aunt Wang giggled, thinking, If I tell you, you’ll be scared off and not rent. I need the rent money first.
She rubbed her hands, “You’ve seen enough—are you renting or not? Don’t waste my time. If you are, pay now. As agreed, three months’ minimum. And your hot-tempered male classmate, I won’t dare ask him for rent, so you pay for him too.”
Shen Xiaoxiao pulled out her phone and quickly paid for everyone. Jiang Yan saw, out of the corner of her eye, a string of zeros in Shen Xiaoxiao’s WeChat Wallet balance, and was dazed for a second.
Shen Xiaoxiao put away her phone, noticing Jiang Yan’s look, and puffed out her chest.
Jiang Yan looked away and continued, “We’ve paid. Now, can we go upstairs?”
With the money in hand, Aunt Wang had more confidence, not afraid of them leaving. “Well, the thing is, a woman was bitten to death by a dog on the sixth floor a few days ago. Blood everywhere, the floor’s still brown, soaked into the concrete and can’t be cleaned. Fine in the day, but at night it’s terrifying—no way to live up there.”
Shen Xiaoxiao looked to Jiang Yan for help. Given this, there was no reason for anyone to move into the sixth floor—who would rent a murder room?
Jiang Yan was silent for a moment.
Then, she unfastened the top button of her shirt and lightly rotated her neck.
Squeak—
The sound of joints cracking echoed eerily in the empty hallway.
Aunt Wang was stunned, a chill crawling up her back.
Jiang Yan’s face looked pale under the dim lights. She pulled off her mask, revealing crimson lips. Then she took out a piece of white card. “Take this.”
Aunt Wang hesitated for half a minute. “…What’s this?”
Jiang Yan’s smile widened. “Take it, I’m not going to eat you.”
Aunt Wang instinctively accepted the card, and the instant she saw what was written, her eyes popped, and she gasped.
“You, you, this is—”
“What?”
“Nothing…” Aunt Wang stepped half a pace back, away from Jiang Yan. After a while, she sighed. “Young and pretty as you are, why do you… specially rent a…”
“I warned you, if you’re scared, don’t ask for a refund!”
Jiang Yan: “Of course.”
Aunt Wang: “Sixth or seventh floor?”
Jiang Yan: “Both. Need rooms where someone died.”
Aunt Wang, as if throwing off bad luck, hastily tossed two sets of keys to Jiang Yan, shoved the white card back at her chest, and sped down the stairs with surprising agility.
Immediately, Jiang Yan’s exaggerated grin faded instantly, leaving just a blank expression.
“How ridiculous.”
Shen Xiaoxiao didn’t understand the smooth development, dazed, “Um…” she murmured, “Jiang Yan-jie, who’s ridiculous, who?”
Jiang Yan: “Me.”
Shen Xiaoxiao: “…………”
[???]
[LOL, Jiang Yan’s so ruthless on herself.]
[But what happened? How did they get the murder room so easily?]
[What was written on that card? I’m desperate to know, genuinely desperate??]
Cheng Guang, incredulous, took the key from Jiang Yan and spoke for everyone. “…That white card?”
Jiang Yan tossed it to him. Cheng Guang fumbled to catch it.
It was a piece of card, half the size of a palm, with great texture. It felt just like a business card.
He quickly flipped it over and instantly understood its purpose.
It was indeed a business card.
—A fake one.
[Jiang Yan / Paranormal Streamer
Kuaifish Live
Tel: 135xxxxxxxx
ID: 20230404444]
Cheng Guang gawked. “When did you print this? So prepared?!”
Jiang Yan was calm: “Handwrote it before getting out of the car.”
“Didn’t think it would come in handy.”
Cheng Guang stared, holding the card up to the light—the handwriting looked printed, clerical script where it should be, Gothic where it should be. There were even a few doodled patterns along the border; unless you looked closely, you’d never guess it was hand-written.
In the livestream: [………] [………??]
Cheng Guang scratched his cheek and said, in a tone unbefitting his mild looks,
“…Damn.”
…
There were no more wasted words. After a brief split, Jiang Yan and Shen Xiaoxiao went to the sixth floor, Cheng Guang to the seventh.
Jiang Yan unlocked room 604. Like the others they’d toured, its mere twelve square meters were extremely cramped, yet it held an old double bed, a peeling redwood wardrobe, a three-tiered bookshelf, a grimy washstand, and two iron pots.
“Everything’s here except a bathroom,” Shen Xiaoxiao marvelled.
Jiang Yan replied, “Thank goodness there’s no bathroom.”
Shen Xiaoxiao thought and clicked her tongue. “True, who can say if you could even close the stall door if there was…”
Jiang Yan made a noncommittal sound, moving to the window. From there, she could see an old set of workout equipment outside, chipped seesaws still in a corner. Nothing unusual. Jiang Yan scanned the room, stopping at the bookshelf.
The bookshelf held various genres: college textbooks, dog-care guides, writing manuals, and cookbooks. Jiang Yan drew out an English book and flipped through it. The owner’s name was Zhang Tian, published last year, full of English notes, most in red pen.
Shen Xiaoxiao peeked over. “The owner must be a teacher. My old teachers always wrote in red; teachers have more red pens than black.”
Jiang Yuqing had mentioned earlier that the psychotic woman killed by the dog was a horror novelist. Clearly, the woman wrote when mentally sound, and teachers can’t be psychiatric patients, so the book was unlikely to be hers.
But nothing was certain. Maybe, for writing, she’d borrowed the book.
“I don’t know English. See what the notes say,” Jiang Yan handed Shen Xiaoxiao the book and browsed another herself.
“Homemaker’s Cooking Guide, Vol. II”
Part of a series, this one teaches mothers how to cook nutritious meals for young schoolchildren. The handwriting differed from the English book; Jiang Yan glanced through and put it back.
Shen Xiaoxiao had finished: “My English is normal high school level, but some passages are about teaching methods, even names of students who answered wrong. The owner was probably a high school English teacher! …But it might be borrowed, not the tenant’s.”
“Ask Shen Huanhuan,” Jiang Yan said. “Tell her to look up info on the 604 family of three.”
“Okay.” Shen Xiaoxiao pulled out her phone and tapped away.
Jiang Yan circled the room, found nothing obvious, then went to the washstand to wash her hands. As she texted, Shen Xiaoxiao took off her mask for a deep breath, only to hurriedly put it back because of the fishy air.
“If the owner’s really a teacher, something’s fishy. What teacher would live here?” Shen Xiaoxiao complained. “The smell’s deadly.”
Jiang Yan said nothing.
She used a tissue to wipe her hands, then cleaned the palm-sized mirror above the washstand. It was scratched and chipped, but she could see her eyes.
She almost had to stand on tiptoe to see her full face.
Previously, when touring other rooms, most didn’t have mirrors. If they did, the sizes and heights varied. Jiang Yan had asked Aunt Wang, who’d replied that tenants put them up themselves.
Shen Xiaoxiao was puzzled after a glance. “Why hang the mirror so high—are all the tenants giants?”
“No, there’s another mirror for the child.” Jiang Yan pointed at the door. On the wall behind the door was a full-length mirror only up to Jiang Yan’s waist, covered with cartoon stickers. Judging by the height, it fit an elementary school student.
There seemed to be nothing unusual.
Jiang Yan did another check. The room was small, easy to search, and within half an hour, she straightened up and exhaled.
Shen Xiaoxiao poked her head out from under the bed, holding a broken toy car and a slashed-open doll.
The doll had a delicate face, bright red lips, an upturned smile, one big round eye hanging over its chest, and another gooily tangled in its hair. Its belly was ripped open, exposing the white voice mechanism within, looking disturbingly like oozing entrails.
“Man,” Shen Xiaoxiao tossed it on the bed, “scared me to death under there. My leg’s gone numb.”
She hopped one-footed over to Jiang Yan.
“Be careful.” Jiang Yan moved to the bed for a closer look. Suddenly, the doll’s arms and legs jerked stiffly.
Its humanoid face rose little by little, cotton stuffing oozing from its sockets, the hanging eyeball swinging side to side.
A sweet, childish voice chimed—
“La la la la la—”
“Xiao Li has a harmonious home,
Daddy loves Mommy, Mommy loves Daddy.
She helps Mommy wash Daddy,
Daddy smiles in the wind, ha ha ha.
“Xiao Li grew up,
Working hard for this family.
Mommy put on Daddy’s handsome suit,
The girl put on Mommy’s pretty dress.
“Xiao Li hops on one foot and sings—
La la la la la,
I love my three-story home.”