Horrorgeschichten, die in einer verlassenen Wohnung spielen

Kapitel 8

I took out another two hundred yuan from my pocket and waved it in front of him.

"What hobbies I have is none of my business. Three hundred yuan, please do me a small favor."

Three hundred yuan wasn't a large sum, but the skinny man's face still showed a tempting expression. This was understandable; how much money could a lazy bum like him, who only followed women on the street for no reason, possibly have?

"I don't do anything illegal." He actually said that to me, which made me laugh.

Seeing me laugh, the skinny man, unsure of my meaning, said, "Do you want me to follow someone? I can't guarantee anything else, but my tracking skills are top-notch. However... is there any danger? If there is, this amount of money won't be enough."

I recalled how blatantly he stared at the long-legged woman in the department store earlier, and now he was boasting about his stalking skills. I suppressed a laugh and said to him, "It's not that I want you to stalk people. Think back, yesterday afternoon around two o'clock, in front of the Morning Star newspaper building, didn't you follow a woman?"

"Ah, yesterday?"

"The woman in the blue dress looked very thin and frail, but she was a pretty young woman."

"Yes...it seems there is such a thing, why?"

"Take me wherever you go with her, and this money is yours."

Skinny and I returned to the entrance of the Morning Star newspaper building. It was from here that he started following Huang Zhi yesterday.

To be honest, I feel a little uncomfortable walking with a skinny guy because his eyes are always wandering over beautiful women, giving passersby the illusion that we're following a woman ahead.

"Do you still remember Qinglu Road?" I asked after turning a few corners.

"Of course, how could I not remember? She was walking like this yesterday, past that clothing store on the left. I remember she stopped there for a while, but didn't go in." The skinny man was quite dissatisfied when I seemed to question his "professionalism".

As we were talking, I suddenly heard a long, drawn-out ship horn, and then the view opened up before me. Our newspaper office is very close to the Bund. Standing on the balcony and taking a deep breath, I always feel like I can smell the Huangpu River, and I can often faintly hear the sound of ship horns in the wind. And now, we have arrived at the Bund.

After passing through the underground pedestrian passage, the skinny man led me to the riverbank of the Bund. The river water was yellowish and turbid, and seagulls flew in the distance. A gentle breeze swept away the sweltering heat. In the afterglow of the setting sun, the modern skyscrapers on the opposite bank were still clearly visible, and their lights were already on. On this side, however, rows of European-style buildings, built in the early 20th century and hailed as an international architectural exhibition, stood silently and majestically. Just as my gaze swept across the area, first the clock tower of the Customs House lit up with magnificent lights, and then the light and shadow stretched out, finally illuminating the riverside on the Puxi side as well.

Even locals born and raised here can't help but feel delighted by this sight, no wonder it's the first scenic view tourists come to Shanghai to see. However, thinking back to when Huang Zhi walked through here yesterday afternoon, the sun was blazing, and the glass curtain wall on the opposite bank must have reflected the sunlight so brightly it was almost blinding, so it must have felt much worse than it does now.

The scenery was beautiful, but as I followed the skinny man from one end to the other and then back again, I couldn't help but ask him, "It seems like we're going back the same way?"

“Yes, the same way she went yesterday. She went around in circles several times. Then, she went out from Fuzhou Road and came back from Beijing Road, going around in circles twice more.” The skinny man tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, as if following Huang Zhi around in so many circles yesterday was a very enjoyable thing.

Luckily I asked early, otherwise I would have been leading him around for ages. I quickly said, "Don't worry about how many circles she went around in. Just take me to where she ended up. She must be staying at a hotel, right? Did you follow her all the way to the hotel?"

“Of course,” the skinny man said smugly. “But why are you so uninterested in the process? In life, you can’t just look at the result; the process is very important.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him, and said with a dark face, "Stop nagging, lead the way."

After walking for another half hour, including taking two bus stops, I realized I hadn't eaten dinner. The aroma of dinner wafting from every house along the way—braised pork, curry chicken, fried ribbonfish, and various other dishes—flavored through my mind, making my legs weak. The skinny guy, true to his reputation as a seasoned stalker, still walked briskly.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small hotel on a side street. The storefront was tiny, and I thought it was just a small guesthouse.

The plump auntie behind the counter on the ground floor was watching a comedy program on a small television in front of her with great interest, with a staircase leading upwards behind her.

“This is it,” the skinny man said confidently, then stared straight at me.

I took two hundred yuan out of my pocket, and he took it with a satisfied smile.

"Do you know which floor she lives on?" I asked casually.

"Third floor, turn left after exiting the stairs, then turn right again to the second room," the skinny man replied.

"You're really professional," I couldn't help but say.

"Back then, you had to be a professional at everything," he said, whistling as he turned and walked away.

I walked into the guesthouse. The plump woman glanced at me, clearly figuring I wasn't there to stay, and gave me a rather dismissive look. I ignored her and went straight up the stairs.

The hallway was narrow, the ceiling was low, and there were stains and mottled marks everywhere on the walls. The whole space was very cramped, and there was a musty smell in the air, which I think mostly came from the old synthetic carpet under my feet.

Turning left and then right on the third floor, passing through rows of tightly closed doors, it felt like a maze, exuding an old-fashioned atmosphere. I wondered how Huang Zhi found this inn, and how she found the Morning Star newspaper office. It seemed she still retained a considerable degree of sanity, knowing that with her savings, she could only afford a place like this.

The first room, the second room, this is it.

I rang the doorbell, but I didn't hear a sound. In this lousy place, even the doorbell is broken.

I knocked on the door. The sound of my knuckles striking the wooden door was hollow, as if the door had long been hollowed out by termites.

No one answered, so I knocked harder, but there was still no response.

Huang Zhi has gone off to wander around here again, or is that skinny guy just randomly leading me astray?

Just as I was about to go downstairs to ask the aunt, I twitched my nose twice and smelled a strange odor.

When people are hungry, their sense of smell is always particularly sensitive. Standing in front of this door, amidst the strong smell of mold and disinfectant, I could even smell a bit of a foul odor.

I brought my nose close to the crack in the door, took a deep sniff, and immediately frowned. Yes, the smell was coming from inside; it was awful.

"Bang bang bang!" I pounded on the door. The facilities in this hostel were really dilapidated. After pounding on it a few times, the door lock actually started to loosen.

I hesitated for a moment, recalling the stalker's words and actions just now. It didn't seem like he was really lying to me; Huang Zhijiu lived here.

After experiencing many adventures, I gradually developed something called "intuition." Because it's often inaccurate, you could also say it makes me overly sensitive and easily startled. And now, I have a bad feeling.

At worst, we can just pay for the lock and see what's going on inside.

The door opened with just one kick.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw Huang Zhi. Despite all the commotion, she was still sitting in a chair dozing off. But the stench was even stronger. Could it be that the toilet was clogged?

"Huang Zhi, Huang Zhi," I said as I walked toward her.

Huang Zhi was wearing a blue dress, her head drooping as she leaned against the chair. I called to her, but she still didn't wake up.

I took a few steps closer, then suddenly stopped, unable to call out to her anymore.

Just a few steps closer, the stench became much stronger. But I wasn't stunned for that reason. It was because my angle of view was slightly different from when I opened the door that I was shocked to discover that she was actually tied to the back of the chair with her hands tied behind her back!

In my shock, I rushed to her side. The area beneath Huang Zhi was a mess, but I had no time to care about that; I wiped her nose with my hand.

Not to mention breathing, it had even lost its body temperature.

On her neck, which was tilted to one side, there was a frightening bruise, bluish-purple to the point of being almost black.

Huang Zhi has been killed!

Chapter Seven: Murder with Unknown Motives

Huang Zhi is dead.

Generally speaking, no matter how charming a person was in life, it is difficult for them to truly appear lifelike after death without proper treatment, especially those who died unexpectedly, as they are usually quite gruesome.

Huang Zhi's eyes widened, her facial muscles contorted, her mouth agape, a stiff tongue protruding halfway from her white teeth, her black hair disheveled. She had been strangled or constricted; people who die of suffocation lose control of their bladder and bowels, which is why I could smell her.

The rope binding her hands and feet was nylon, very strong. Despite her desperate struggles before she died, it was all in vain. Only bloodstains remained on her wrists and arms, which had already congealed.

Her legs were tightly bound to the legs of the wooden chair, and her hands were tied behind her back, making it difficult for her to exert any strength while struggling. Even a frail woman can unleash astonishing strength in a life-or-death situation, but the small nylon rope extinguished her last glimmer of hope. There were no obvious signs of a struggle in the room; I think she was likely knocked unconscious, tied to the chair, and then strangled.

On the floor beside the bed, there was a rag doll, grinning. It was the same kind of rag doll I saw at her home in Datang Village; it seemed she carried it with her wherever she went.

When the plump woman saw Huang Zhi's dead body, she let out a startling scream. It's no wonder that high-pitched singers are all large-sized. After screaming, she fainted on the ground and didn't wake up until the patrol officers arrived. She was ashen-faced.

First came the patrol officers, then a large number of criminal police officers. He Xi, the forensic doctor, also arrived. I was being questioned by the police when her gaze lingered on my face for half a second. I guess that counted as a greeting. Then she went back to her work.

The officer who questioned me was a middle-aged man, and he wasn't very friendly. These days, the police station's criminal investigation team is divided into investigation groups, and the group leader is called a "detective chief." This title sounds very Western, reminiscent of the American sitcom *Hunter*, which was very popular in China in the 1980s. This officer was a detective chief.

"Name, occupation, when was the body discovered?" he asked sternly. A young policeman stood beside him, sandwiching me between them, seemingly trying to control me.

I was much calmer than the fat aunt when facing the dead, which probably made the detective a little suspicious.

I answered them one by one, and as a result, the detective's gaze became even sharper.

"Are you a reporter? What are you doing here? Why did you break in?"

This is a long story. From the paper baby to the stalker, the cause and effect need to be explained from the beginning, which cannot be explained in just a few words.

With so much to say, I couldn't answer for a moment. The detective, seeing this, gave a cold laugh and said to the young officer, "This man is suspicious; take him back to the station."

"Yes," the officer next to him replied, and with a clatter, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Hey, wait a minute, I just had a lot to say, that's why I was a little slow in answering."

"There's no time to listen now. We'll talk about it back at the station." The detective was completely unconvinced.

With two sharp taps, I was firmly grabbed. The young policeman's movements were quite forceful, twisting my wrist painfully.

"I'm a suspect? Then why should I report it to the police?" I said angrily.

"Reporting the crime yourself doesn't mean anything." He Xi came out of the room. She had finished her work at the scene and was just waiting for the body to be transported back for an autopsy. Seeing the situation here, she actually said this.

"Hey, why are you saying that?" I exclaimed.

“This person has collaborated with the Municipal Bureau’s Special Affairs Division a few times; he shouldn’t be doing something so low-tech,” He Xi said to the detective, glanced at me, a slight smirk playing on his lips, and then turned and left.

"Special Affairs Division?" the detective murmured, his gaze shifting from sharp to suspicious.

"I knew the deceased, but the story was rather complicated, so I'll just give a brief account." I seized the opportunity to give a brief summary.

When I was halfway through my sentence, the detective had already signaled to the junior officer to unlock my handcuffs.

"That's how it is." The detective nodded. "Did you touch anything at the scene?"

“I kicked the door, went in to check Huang Zhi’s breathing, and then came back out to call the police.”

"I was a bit rash just now, sorry," the detective smiled at me and said, "but you still need to go to the police station to make a statement and repeat what you just said in detail."

"Excuse me, excuse me." Huang Zhi's body was put into a body bag, and two policemen carried it past me.

I stared at the black body bag, my mind filled with doubt.

Who killed Huang Zhi, and why?

Money? What money could someone staying at this small inn possibly have? Lust? Huang Zhi was indeed beautiful, but she was dressed neatly when she died.

She was strangled while tied to a chair; it didn't seem like someone killed her on a whim. Who would carry nylon rope around? It was clearly a premeditated murder.

Inside the room, forensic investigators were still carefully searching for traces left by the murderer. I glanced at them briefly and thought they had at least found suspicious footprints and hair.

"Hey reporter, how about we go get those letters you mentioned earlier, and then go back to the station together?" asked the policeman who had handcuffed me earlier.

"OK."

As I went downstairs, I saw the detective questioning the plump woman. The woman was covered in sweat, her fat trembling slightly, and her voice was high-pitched and thin, indicating she was still terrified.

"Officer, this has nothing to do with me. I don't know anything about it," the plump woman said with a mournful face.

"A person lived here and is now dead, and you say you know nothing about it? There are several service staff in this building, where are they?" The detective's tone was even harsher than it had been towards me earlier.

"I don't really handle the tenants' affairs. We're short-staffed here, and we only clean after the tenants check out. Originally, there was someone on duty on each floor, but recently someone took leave and went back to their hometown, so we're a bit short-staffed."

"What about the surveillance footage?"

"No...no, oh no, it's broken."