Hexe

Kapitel 4

"The hut is about 30 or 40 meters away from the back gate of the temple, connected by a narrow mountain path. Although the distance is not far, because there is a large bend in the mountain path, the temple and the hut seem to be separated by the mountain, so it is impossible to see the hut from the temple."

"Oh." Zhou Ping nodded. After Zhang Bin's explanation, he seemed to have some impression of this mountain path, but he didn't expect that there was a small house at the other end of the path.

“What does that little house look like?” he asked.

"The conditions were very basic; there wasn't even electricity, and we could only rely on oil lamps brought from Shunde for lighting. The only single bed in the room was covered in dust, and it looked like no one had been in the room for a long time."

"So you mean this house was empty before you moved in?"

"Probably. Before we went inside, Shunde suddenly told us something in a mysterious way." At this point, Zhang Bin's voice lowered and trembled slightly.

"What is it?" Zhou Ping turned his body toward Zhang Bin with concern, realizing that the other was about to get to the crucial part.

“He said… he said he had seen this house haunted, and that it was a headless ghost.”

Although he was mentally prepared, Zhou Ping still couldn't help but frown. The idea of a "headless ghost" seemed rather absurd to him.

Zhang Bin seemed to have anticipated Zhou Ping's reaction. He took a deep breath, controlling his increasingly tense emotions, and continued, "When I first heard Shunde's words, just like you are now, I didn't believe it at all. Then Shunde told us something else. He said there was a cursed painting in this house, and anyone who looked at it would be possessed by a ghost and suffer misfortune."

Zhou Ping chuckled lightly, shook his head, and said jokingly, "This Shunde guy is really a chatterbox."

Zhang Bin looked at Zhou Ping: "We just laughed it off at the time. But if you knew what happened later, you wouldn't be laughing."

Zhou Ping realized he had been a bit out of line, awkwardly touched his chin, and then put on a serious listening posture again.

Zhang Bin took a sip of water, paused for a moment, and continued, "Later, Shunde returned to the temple to fetch bedding for us for the night, and we tidied up the room simply. During this process, we found a box under the bed, neatly filled with old paintings. Painting was our greatest interest, so we opened a few of them without much thought. Who knew we wouldn't be able to stop looking? Almost every painting in that box was a masterpiece. Of the three of us, Hu Junkai was the most accomplished painter, quite famous in China, but even he felt inferior when he saw these paintings."

"Oh? Who painted these pictures?"

“Judging from the signature, these paintings were created in the 1970s or 80s, and the artist called himself ‘Kongwang Monk’,” Zhang Bin answered Zhou Ping’s question, and then continued his recollection: “We admired them one by one by the dim light of an oil lamp, and before we knew it, we had almost seen all the paintings. Just then, we found something at the very bottom of the box, and that thing surprised us greatly.”

What is it?

"It was a worn-out painting box with a seal on it. The seal read in bright red letters: 'Zhengming sealed the painting on May 2, 1972.'" Zhang Bin's face showed barely suppressed fear. His tone was slow and low, as if he was afraid of alerting something.

Zhou Ping leaned forward in astonishment: "So there really is a 'cursed painting'? You opened it and looked at it?"

Zhang Bin shook his head: "Not for now. They both really want to see it, but I object—this matter is a bit eerie. While we were arguing, Shunde came back with bedding, and we quickly put the painting box back into the trunk and hid it. In any case, it's sealed, so it's definitely not convenient for outsiders to see it."

Zhou Ping hummed in agreement and gestured for Zhang Bin to continue.

“Shunde didn’t seem particularly surprised when he found out we had the painting box. After we asked him, we learned that the previous resident of this small house was the ‘Kongwang Monk’ whose name is on the inscription. It was common knowledge in the temple that Kongwang loved to paint. He only moved into the temple from the small house 10 years ago to focus on meditation.”

"At that time, we admired Kongwang so much that we immediately asked to visit him. But Shunde told us that Kongwang had been practicing Zen in seclusion for half a month, and no one could see him. Even his meals were specially delivered to his room."

"We were both surprised and disappointed. Hu Junkai was still not giving up, so he took out his business card and asked Shunde to deliver it to the monk Kongwang. He hoped that Kongwang would have heard of his reputation and would make an exception to meet him."

“After Shunde left, we tidied up the bed and bedding. Because I am relatively weak, Chen Jian and Hu Junkai took care of me and let me sleep on the bed, while they slept on the floor together, which I did not refuse. However, after I lay down on the bed, they did not go to bed immediately, but discussed that they wanted to see the ‘ominous painting’.”

"Didn't you stop it this time?" Zhou Ping guessed.

"No." Zhang Bin looked somewhat regretful. "Actually, I really wanted to see the painting myself, but I was also afraid. At the time, I thought that since they insisted on seeing it, I might as well let them see it first, and then I would decide whether I wanted to see it myself based on the situation."

Zhou Ping nodded; such a mindset was easy to understand.

Seeing that I no longer objected, they excitedly took the painting box out of the trunk, carefully unsealed it, and took out the painting inside. Then, under the dim oil lamp, they slowly unfolded the painting. I, on the other hand, leaned against the bed and watched all of this from three or four meters away.

"The flickering light of the oil lamp illuminated their faces, and I could clearly see their initial excitement slowly freeze, then turn into surprise and fear. Especially Hu Junkai, who was closer to me, I had never seen such a look in anyone's eyes before; he seemed to have seen something horrifying that could never happen."

"The atmosphere in the room seemed to freeze instantly, eerily quiet. Although I didn't see the painting directly, a chill ran through my entire body. After holding it in for a long time, I finally mustered the courage to ask, 'What's wrong? What's painted on that?'"

Zhou Ping was also affected by the atmosphere. This time, he didn't interrupt, but quietly conveyed the same question to Zhang Bin with his eyes: What exactly is drawn on it?

Zhang Bin was completely absorbed in his memories: "Upon hearing my question, Hu Junkai seemed to suddenly wake up. He quickly rolled up the painting again and murmured in a trembling voice: '...How could this be...How could this be? You absolutely cannot look at this painting, nor ask about its contents. You cannot bear it!'"

"Can't handle it, what does that mean? And how did Chen Jian react at this point?"

“He just stood there blankly, looking dazed.” Zhang Bin smiled bitterly. “Actually, even if Hu Junkai hadn’t said anything, I would never have wanted to look at the painting again. My heart has always been weak, and the doctor had long advised me to avoid excessive stimulation.”

"Later, Hu Junkai put the painting away and lay down silently with Chen Jian. I could tell they were both preoccupied, clearly still haunted by the painting. I was also a little worried, but after a long day, I couldn't help but fall into a deep sleep. I don't know if it was just my imagination, but I had a terrible nightmare! I dreamt that blood was seeping from the painting box, and the blood kept increasing, spreading throughout the small room, and finally engulfing my head, almost suffocating me."

Zhou Ping frowned. Zhang Bin's subjective emotions seemed particularly susceptible to the influence of the objective environment, and that nightmare fully demonstrated this.

Zhang Bin ignored his reaction and continued talking to himself: "I woke up from a nightmare with my heart pounding wildly. When I calmed down a little, I suddenly realized that Chen Jian and Hu Junkai, who were sleeping next to my bed, were gone. In their place on the floor was an open, empty painting box."

"The door was tightly closed at the time. I didn't bother to put on my coat, but slipped on my shoes and went to the window to look out. I saw the two of them standing at the corner of the mountain path, seemingly discussing something. Hu Junkai was carrying an oil lamp, while Chen Jian was holding the 'ominous painting' in his hand."

"They went to look at paintings again?" Zhou Ping couldn't help but become very interested in the painting.

"Yes. And they went outside to look at the paintings after I fell asleep, so they must have something they wanted to hide from me. This time they were far away, so I couldn't see their expressions, but I could still feel a very heavy atmosphere between them."

“I just stood there behind the window, staring blankly at them, my heart filled with doubt, but I didn’t have the courage to go over and find out the truth. The silence of the night made every minute seem so long. At that time, I just hoped that they would go back inside as soon as possible, throw the painting aside, and never care about it again.”

"Couldn't you hear anything they were saying?"

Zhang Bin shook his head: "My hearing isn't very good to begin with, and they were speaking very softly. I could only glean some general information from their movements."

"Really? Then what did you figure out?" Zhou Ping looked at Zhang Bin with some anticipation.

"Chen Jian was holding the painting and seemed to want to walk to the other side of the mountain road, which is the direction of the temple. Hu Junkai seemed to be trying to persuade or stop him from doing so."

"He's heading towards the temple, so he's looking for the 'Kongwang Monk' who paints?" Zhou Ping analyzed.

“Possibly.” Zhang Bin nodded in agreement. “A few minutes later, Hu Junkai seemed to give up. He first waved his hand in disappointment, then turned and walked back towards the cabin; then, Chen Jian resolutely walked in the other direction of the mountain path.”

From Zhang Bin's slow tone, Zhou Jian sensed that something important was about to happen. He held his breath and listened intently.

Zhang Bin gripped his water glass tightly and said, "Just then, I suddenly noticed a dark figure hiding behind the cliff at the bend in the path, watching them."

Although this situation was somewhat unexpected, Zhang Bin's emotions seemed a bit exaggerated; his tone was as if he were describing an extremely terrifying event.

"Oh? So, there was a fourth person at the scene?" Zhou Ping said thoughtfully.

“Is it a person? No, I don’t know…” Zhang Bin took a sip of water and then swallowed it down in large gulps, his voice trembling slightly with fear. “The dark figure was facing me, only about 10 meters away. With the light reflecting off it, I could see it clearly. ‘It’ was standing there, with hands and feet, but no head!”

"What?" Zhou Ping looked incredulous. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, 'it' was hiding behind a cliff less than two meters away from Chen Jian, but Chen Jian was completely unaware and was walking towards 'it' step by step!"

"Why couldn't Chen Jian see it himself at such a close distance?"

“The dark figure is hiding on the other side of the bend.” Zhang Bin gestured. “Because of the angle, Chen Jian and Hu Junkai are very close to ‘it,’ but they can’t see ‘it’.”

Zhou Ping nodded: "What's next?"

“I didn’t see what happened next,” Zhang Bin said, letting out a long sigh, seemingly feeling relieved.

"Didn't you see it? Why?" Zhou Ping asked in surprise.

"Because I had a sudden heart attack," Zhang Bin replied.

Zhou Ping nodded in realization. If it were really the situation Zhang Bin described, even a normal person would be terrified. It was perfectly reasonable for his illness to flare up at this time.

Zhang Bin noticed Zhou Ping's disappointment and explained helplessly, "When I saw that eerie black shadow, the fear made my heart clench. I crouched down in agony, opening my mouth to scream, but no sound came out..."

"So what did you do?" Zhou Ping began to ask about Zhang Bin's safety at that moment.

"The nitroglycerin pills were in the pocket of my shirt by the bedside. I practically crawled to the bed, my hands trembling as I fumbled for the bottle, opened it, and swallowed a life-saving pill." Recalling the urgency of the situation, Zhang Bin patted his chest with lingering fear, then continued, "Just as my breathing calmed down, a piercing scream suddenly tore through the night. Thinking of what had just happened outside, I disregarded my own body and struggled to rush out. I saw Hu Junkai standing blankly by the roadside, seemingly terrified, while Chen Jian was nowhere to be seen."

"You mean, at this point, Chen Jian had already fallen off the cliff, and that scream was from him?"

Zhang Bin closed his eyes and nodded painfully.

"What exactly happened? What did Hu Junkai say?" Zhou Ping pressed.

"Just as I said, Hu Junkai and Chen Jian walked in opposite directions. When Hu Junkai had walked about five or six meters, he suddenly heard Chen Jian scream behind him. When he turned around, he could no longer see Chen Jian. The scream from below the cliff lasted for a full five or six seconds."

"So, Hu Junkai didn't see Chen Jian fall off the cliff either?"

"No."

"What about that dark figure you mentioned? Did you see 'it' again when you rushed onto the mountain road?"

Zhang Bin shook his head: "You can't see it from that position, and I didn't dare to turn around the cliff for the time being. I just told Hu Junkai what I saw inside the house."

"What was Hu Junkai's reaction?"

"After hearing what I said, he was stunned for a moment, then seemed to suddenly realize something, and muttered to himself: 'A headless shadow, a headless shadow... He still came, there's no escaping it...' He even gave a strange smile when he said this."

"A strange laugh?" Zhou Ping seemed puzzled.

"Yes, a very eerie smile, which was both a bitter smile and a hint of relief. But one thing is certain: he was pale and looked extremely frightened."

"It sounds like Hu Junkai foresaw the appearance of the headless shadow?" Zhou Ping was filled with inexplicable mysteries. "Did you actually see that 'ominous painting' later?"

“No.” Zhang Bin shook his head again. “The painting fell off the cliff with Chen Jian. Later, the monks in the temple heard the cries and came to check. After learning what had happened, they decided that I would go down the mountain to report the case, while Hu Junkai would stay behind to search and rescue. So I ran all the way down the mountain and went to the police station to report the case.”

"Hmm." Zhou Ping frowned and began to sort out his thoughts. Zhang Bin had said so much, but things not only showed no signs of becoming clear, but had become even more complicated.

After resting and drinking some water, Zhang Bin gradually calmed down. Suddenly, he thought of something and asked, "What's the situation on the mountain now? Is there any chance that Chen Jian will survive?"

"It's unclear at the moment," Zhou Ping said, glancing at his watch. It was 7:15 a.m.

With the snow falling so heavily, he wondered if Luo Suo had arrived at the temple yet. He decided to contact Luo Fei first.

Outside, a bright world of white snow stretched out, but inside, separated only by a window, felt like hell.

The source of this feeling was the empty corpse hanging from the rafters. It looked down at the window, as if guarding the entrance to hell.

Kong Wang started staying indoors two weeks ago. Since then, Shunde has been putting breakfast out the window around 6:30 every day.

On the stage, Kong Wang finished eating and put the empty utensils back in their place. After the accident last night, several monks from the kitchen went down into the valley to rescue Chen Jian, who had fallen off a cliff, so breakfast was delayed. Therefore, it wasn't until around 7 a.m., when Shunde opened the window, that Kong Wang's body was discovered by Luo Fei and the other two.

Two mysterious deaths occurred in succession in the small temple, and Luo Fei began to realize the seriousness of the situation. Normally, the investigation of bodies with unknown causes should be handled by criminal investigation technicians, but given the current circumstances, Luo Fei decided to go inside first, since he had received relevant on-site investigation training.

To preserve the scene as much as possible, Luo Fei didn't force his way through the door. Instead, he carefully climbed in through the window. Even with Luo Fei's strong mental fortitude, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine as he entered the room. The corpse seemed to be staring at him with a strange gaze, making him feel very uncomfortable.

When Luo Fei tiptoed into the room from the windowsill, it felt as if he had entered another world, according to every sense. The room was eerily quiet, dimly lit, and filled with a faint, strange odor in the damp, chilly air. The smell was peculiar, like some kind of medicinal herb, or perhaps some cheap tobacco. Luo Fei looked around; on a small table sat an incense burner filled with ash, which seemed to be the only possible source of the smell.

The house was an old-fashioned brick and wood structure, with a beam running horizontally across the center. Kong Wang's body was hanging from this beam. At the body's feet was a kicked-over stool; at least superficially, the deceased appeared to have hanged himself.

In his past experiences, Luo Fei had seen some corpses, some highly decomposed, others incomplete, but he had never seen a corpse evoke such a strong sense of terror as this one. Perhaps the corpse itself wasn't the source of the horror; even if the person hanging from the beam were alive, the sight of them was enough to make one afraid to look directly at them.

If not for a congenital disability, this person must have experienced a horrific accident before his death. This accident severely damaged his spine and nerves. He was hunched over, his facial muscles and features contorted in an unbelievable way. Especially terrifying were his wide-open eyes.

Although the man was dead, his eyes seemed to still be alive. Bloodshot eyeballs bulged out, staring downwards, their bright red color like a burning flame—a flame of anger.

Yes, anger! This was the strongest feeling that Kong Wang conveyed to Luo Fei after his death. If another world truly exists, then Kong Wang's soul must not have found peace, but rather become the most vicious ghost.

Luo Fei stared at the dead Kong Wang, and the anger he felt was like a cold wind blowing into his heart, making him tremble while also giving him a strong urge to find the source of that anger.

Is there some intrinsic connection between this anger and that mysterious "cursed painting"?

Luo Fei still had no way of knowing the answer, but there was one thing he seemed to be able to determine: Kong Wang did not commit suicide.

A wronged person may commit suicide, a desperate person may commit suicide, a grieving person may commit suicide, but an angry person will never commit suicide.

Although such subjective judgment is insufficient to form a definitive conclusion, Luo Fei still has considerable confidence in his intuition. What he needs to do now is to find some concrete evidence to support his ideas.