Das Geheimnis des alten Hauses

Kapitel 1

Prologue

The following is the theory of psychologist Carl Jung.

Since ancient times, dreams have controlled the human subconscious. After thousands of years, humanity remains perplexed and finds dreams difficult to understand. In fact, dreams are the collective unconscious of humanity—all humans share the same subconscious mind; and this mind manifests through dreams.

However, Western mystics believe in the concept of the spirit world. When our bodies are asleep, our souls travel to the spirit realm, and dreams are our confused, fragmented, and distorted memories of what we see and hear. During these spirit journeys, we encounter the spirits of deceased relatives and friends, mythical creatures, and even demons from the depths of purgatory. What we see and hear, through the symbolism of various objects, reveals prophecies about the future and the truth of the present world.

The collective unconscious, through innate heredity and acquired education, lies dormant deep within our minds, and dreams transform into symbolic prompts for human action. These prompts might be geometric shapes, colors, or a piece of music. When we accidentally encounter them in the real world, our memories of the spiritual realm are rekindled, and then we involuntarily accept the control of these symbols.

This is what is called magic.

Magic originates from humanity's distant memories, and it eternally controls our will, our thoughts, and our actions.

In mid-January 2001, I was admitted to a hospital in Kaohsiung City to recuperate due to a deterioration in my health.

Kaohsiung is my birthplace, but due to work, I haven't been back for over a decade. I remember after graduating from National Sun Yat-sen University, driven by youthful ideals and ambitions, I resolutely went north alone to develop my career. Now, I'm about to turn forty. I started as a lowly extra in a magazine, but after years of honing my skills and experience in the publishing industry, I'm now a bestselling author with an annual income of four to five million NT dollars.

My wife of over seven years earnestly urged me to return to my hometown to recuperate. Her reasoning was that only by temporarily residing in southern Taiwan could I escape the overwhelming work pressure of Taipei, which felt like a hydrogen bomb. However, my wife also had to take care of our two children's schooling, so she couldn't accompany me south to help with my daily needs while I was hospitalized.

I am indeed under a lot of pressure. Ever since I wrote a prophetic novel about cross-strait relations two years ago, I have become the focus of attention. All the media outlets have started frantically investigating the sources of my writing material, whether they involve real national leaders or government officials. They follow me like paparazzi, trying to find out my hidden friendships from my daily actions.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, I decisively resigned from my job as a newsweekly editor. With the royalties from my first novel, I was able to support my family even without a job.

Staying home and avoiding political topics, I decided to change course and rewrite a more gentle urban erotic novel. I thought I wouldn't cause any more trouble, but unexpectedly, critics in the arts and literature circles started identifying the characters in my story with real people, saying that I was using a different method to allude to certain current cabinet members.

Despite my denials in writing, the baseless rumors and controversies only enhanced my mixed reputation. Many people invited me to write articles and give speeches, and overnight I transformed into a well-informed intellectual and a leading voice in public discourse.

I was seduced by fame and fortune, and ultimately lost my way. It was as if I wore a glamorous mask every day, constantly saying things against my conscience and writing articles against my will. Living this dual life, I sometimes felt anxious, and sometimes numb.

And so I fell ill. It was a backlash from my body's inability to withstand the pressure. The media were all speculating and analyzing what mysteries my next work would contain, which caused me immense pain, because I had no intention of hiding any mysteries in my stories.

I simply want to write simple stories, stories that readers will enjoy. I haven't made any innuendos, veiled criticisms, or made any baseless accusations; I'm certainly not seeking fame or fortune!

After completing the hospitalization procedures with exhaustion and indignation, I met Wu Jianxiang.

Wu Jianxiang was a criminal investigator. Although we didn't share a hospital room, he became my daily conversation partner during my recovery. Although Wu Jianxiang was young, seven or eight years younger than me, due to the nature of his profession, he had been dealing with all sorts of people from all walks of life since graduating from police academy. In addition, he had a wealth of experience in handling cases. I, who had never met any police officers before, quite enjoyed listening to him talk.

---hqszs

Reply [3]: In fact, I was very interested in him from the first time I heard him introduce himself as a detective. I can’t deny that I tried to find new material for my writing in him. I have never read detective novels and I have no intention of touching them in the future. My impression of detective novels is limited to detectives who, with the help of detectives and their assistants, go through various adventures and bring the murderer to justice.

Facing a detective who had investigated real crimes, I did not voice this superficial and biased opinion. From their conversation, I could easily tell that Wu Jianxiang was a person who loved his work, was extremely persistent and dedicated to solving criminal cases, and was determined to bring down those cunning and treacherous criminals no matter what.

“Xiao Wu, I think…” During a conversation two weeks after we met, I couldn’t help but say, “Most murderers in real life don’t even have the most basic imagination.”

"Does murder require imagination?" Wu Jian smiled.

“Of course they need to. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to catch them so easily. The car thefts, counterfeit money, and fraud cases you told me about—I think their methods are incredibly imaginative, surprising and even admirable. But murderers are mostly impulsive, without any planning. As long as the police intimidate and interrogate them a little, they immediately confess.”

"That's true. Murder is a type of crime that is extremely stressful. After committing the crime, one can easily expose their emotional instability."

"Haven't you ever encountered a murderer who planned meticulously beforehand and whose defenses were difficult to break through?"

“Yes, there is.” Wu Jian shook his head at this moment, “but that case was handled by my junior, and I was not directly involved. The parts I know are all hearsay.”

"Could you tell me the details of that case?" I knew there was joy in my voice.

"I don't know anything about the investigation process, I only remember the killer's name," Wu Jianxiang retorted. "And you can write a novel about that?"

"ah?"

“Brother Wang, I know you are a writer and you must want to get some writing material from me.”

"That's right..." I said, a little embarrassed. "Xiao Wu, you don't mind, do you?"

"It's alright. But you don't seem to have a habit of reading mystery novels... Why would you want to write mystery novels?"

I answered him honestly: "As you said, I know absolutely nothing about mystery novels. However, I think that as long as I get a murder case with a complicated plot from you, the story written based on it should be a good mystery novel."

“Not necessarily,” Wu Jian shook his head again. “It’s not certain.”

"What do you mean by that?" I didn't understand what he meant.

He didn't answer my question directly. "Actually, you could write about theft or economic crimes, right?"

"What interests me most is murder cases. Xiao Wu, as you just mentioned, murder cases put a lot of pressure on people and cause unstable emotions. I think only this kind of subject matter can truly resonate with readers."

"Okay." Wu Jian moved away from the window and sat back down. "Brother Wang, you've seen this before, haven't you?"

He took out a yellow and black solid from under his pillow.

The solid itself is not large, about the size of a human finger. It is hard, rough, and has a complex texture, like a small pebble dug up from a foreign land and brought back to China.

At that moment, I suddenly remembered another mysterious side of Wu Jianxiang. During the day, his speech and behavior were perfectly normal; he was a very gentle and cheerful young man. In particular, he had his own unique perspective on everything, which was the main reason I liked to chat with him. However, for some reason, as soon as night fell, he would become taciturn, and he wouldn't even have the interest to go outside for some fresh air or feel the evening breeze.

At times like these, he's like a "Do Not Approach" sign hanging around his neck, making people keep their distance without him saying a word. I have no idea how he creates that atmosphere.

He would sit or lie alone on his hospital bed, head down, intently playing with and examining the small stone. Even after the hospital lights were turned off, he showed no intention of going to bed. Once, I woke up in the middle of the night needing to urinate and found him quietly sitting on the edge of my bed! I was startled and quickly asked him what was wrong, but he didn't answer, silently getting up and leaving my room.

I had long been curious about his behavior, but I couldn't find a way to ask him about it. Unexpectedly, he brought up that peculiar stone on his own initiative.

---hqszs

Reply [4]: "If you really want to write about murder, I'm willing to tell you about an event I experienced firsthand." He held up a small stone in front of me and said, "A strange case related to this thing."

"Really? That's great!"

"However, this case cannot be written as a detective novel."

"Can't it be written as a mystery novel?" I was completely baffled.

"Well, that can't be turned into a mystery novel."

"It's alright, it's alright... I don't necessarily have to write mystery novels. As long as readers enjoy them, anything is fine." My expression was somewhat childlike, like a child excitedly receiving a Christmas present. After a moment's thought, I blurted out, "But, since it's a murder case, why can't it be written as a mystery novel?"

Chapter 1 Vertiginous Chamber

To explain this series of strange events, I think we can trace it back to March 25, 2000. At 6:47 a.m. that day, the Sanmin Precinct of the Kaohsiung City Police Department received a strange call. A resident living in the jurisdiction claimed that after getting up, he found a dark red rat caught in the mousetrap that he had placed in the living room the night before, and requested the police to send someone to handle it.

The person who received the call was Wu Jianxiang, one of the officers on duty that night, who was twenty-eight years old at the time. Staying with him was Fang Liwei, Jianxiang's senior from university.

"The person who reported the case seems to have exaggerated the situation." After Jianxiang hung up the phone, Liwei listened to the recording twice more. "However, something does seem a bit strange."

"It's been very quiet all night, unlike what people remember about Kaohsiung..." Jianxiang said, "Anyway, there's nothing going on at the station, I'll go check it out."

Li Wei shrugged noncommittally. "Aren't you planning to catch up on some sleep?"

"Please make up for my share."

As Jian Xiang spoke, he stood up. He grabbed the bunch of keys from his desk and walked towards the main entrance of the branch office, without turning his head, only raising his hand to say goodbye to Xiang Liwei.

There was a reason why Jian Xiang was so interested in this strange phone call. Besides the unusual nature of the report itself, unlike Li Wei, who only heard a poorly recorded phone recording, Jian Xiang spoke directly with the caller.

The other person's tone of voice concealed a deep-seated fear, something that could never be grasped simply by listening to a recording. Like an iceberg drifting in the Arctic Circle, the dangers hidden beneath the sea surface are far greater than what the eye can see—though it was merely based on intuition, Jian Xiang's sixth sense had always been remarkably accurate since childhood.

I remember when I was in second grade, during a picnic in the mountains, the teachers and students were having a great time when he suddenly felt cold and left the shade of a tree to sunbathe. Less than a minute later, there was a loud bang as a thick tree trunk fell heavily to the ground, injuring three elementary school students. The one who was most seriously injured, suffering a complex fracture of her thigh, was the girl who had just been sitting next to him.

Jianxiang inserted the key into the ignition, started the motorcycle, and straddled it. He urged the motorcycle to accelerate, turned left, and drove towards Jianguo Road in the early morning.

I hadn't slept all night, but my mind was perfectly clear.

Another incident occurred shortly after Jianxiang graduated from junior high school. His family was traveling abroad for the first time, spending a week in Southeast Asian countries like Thailand and Singapore. Suddenly, in the terminal of Kaohsiung Airport, he felt extremely cold and eventually lost consciousness. To get him to the hospital, the family was forced to cancel their trip. Later, they saw news reports that their flight had been hijacked after takeoff, nearly resulting in a plane crash.

---hqszs

Reply [5]: Apart from the two major events that clearly affected his life, Jian Xiang really didn't know whether a sudden feeling of coldness was a warning sign of danger. For example, when he had just entered the police academy, he once felt a sudden chill by the pool during a physical education class, but nothing happened afterwards.

The person who reported the case was a middle-aged woman, surnamed Ge, aged 45. She was married, and her husband died of liver cancer last year. Her two sons are both adults, working away from home and each has their own place to live.

Mrs. Ge lives alone and is currently unemployed in an old-style building near the intersection of Jianguo Third Road and Nantai Road. About three days ago, she suddenly noticed mice in her home, something that had never happened in her nearly twenty years of living in that apartment. Sensing something was wrong, Mrs. Ge quickly went to a general store and bought two or three mousetraps to get rid of the little monsters. And this morning, the mousetrap in the living room dutifully caught a mouse.

When she discovered a mouse in the cage, she couldn't help but gasp. Because this mouse… Nantai Road is directly opposite the gate of Kaohsiung High School, less than 200 meters from the Sanmin Police Station, so Jianxiang immediately found Mrs. Ge's apartment address. He parked his motorcycle under the arcade and entered the apartment building.

The apartment building has six floors. Mrs. Ge lives on the third floor. After Jian Xiang explained his purpose to the building manager, the manager didn't react much and listlessly told him to go upstairs by himself. Jian Xiang thought to himself that perhaps his colleague who was relieving him had made a mistake; the manager's eyes were practically closed.

"That Mrs. Goh is always so tense, she likes to treat nothing as something, and small things as big things."

After passing the malfunctioning elevator, Jian headed towards the stairwell inside, while the manager could only weakly utter these words.

The stairs were short and narrow. For Jian Xiang, who was 178 centimeters tall and weighed 75 kilograms, going upstairs was like crawling through a sloping tunnel. The light bulbs were still on, but the walls and ceilings were covered in dust, and the dark corridor was yellowish.

Doesn't it look like a coal mine? Jian Xiang suddenly had this thought.

In fact, this time his intuition was very different. Completely different from the experience of feeling a chill run through his body, the moment Jian Xiang hung up the microphone in the police station's duty room, a violent shiver suddenly rushed through his body like a raging wave, almost causing him to fall to the floor.

Is this telling me "I will be in danger if I stay at the police station," or "I must stay far away from this apartment building"?

As Jian Xiang was deep in thought, he was about to press the doorbell of room 301 when the door opened suddenly, and a middle-aged woman of about fifty years old appeared before him.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” the woman said, “Officer.”

This woman really startled Jian Xiang. He never expected that Mrs. Ge would be staring intently through the peephole in the door, waiting for his arrival.

Mrs. Goh was short and thin, with large, dark eyes. Her trembling expression reminded Jian Xiang of the rat she had mentioned. Without a word, she hastily and tremblingly pulled Jian Xiang into the room, not giving him a chance to greet her.

---hqszs

Reply [6]: Hurry up and post it, I can't wait!

---Saying Goodbye to Cambridge

Reply [7]: “Officer,” Mrs. Go said, “I’ve been looking out the window at the street, and I’m so relieved you could come…” “Where is the rat?”

“Here! Here! Here!” Mrs. Goe answered in a panic.

Jian looked in the direction she was pointing, and he was speechless at the sight before him.

The mouse, more than twice the size of a typical house mouse that rummages through garbage and kitchen scraps, was about the size of an overfed kitten, and at that moment it was trying to escape the small mousetrap that was so crowded for it.

The giant rat's tail and left hind leg were clamped tightly outside the rat trap. It curled up and kept turning its head to struggle against the powerful spring of the cage door. Its injured left foot weakly scraped the ground, and its long tail lashed and swayed like a whip, standing out starkly against the beige tile floor.

As it struggled, the rat trap made a slight clanging sound, and the edges of the trap door were twisted and deformed, as if the giant rat was about to break out of the trap.

Even more chilling is that the giant rat's fur appears to be covered in dark paint, and where the fur has fallen off, it reveals pink skin covered in sores and suffering from skin diseases.

At this moment, the giant rat noticed that two aliens were looking at it, and its struggling movements became faster, while it stared back at them with fierce eyes.

Jian Xiang glanced at Mrs. Goh and couldn't imagine how she would react if the big rat escaped.

“I smelled a very strong fishy smell,” Mrs. Goh said. “Really! Really! I worked as a nurse for over ten years, and I’ll never forget the stench of a decomposing corpse, because something terrible happened during my time as a nurse! A terminally ill patient refused to undergo life-or-death surgery and escaped from his ward. The hospital immediately contacted his family, but they were also out of contact… Just when everyone thought the patient was missing… unexpectedly… unexpectedly… his body appeared in the hospital morgue! And… and… I was the first person to find the body! Because the hospital morgue isn’t used often, and few people go there, the patient hid inside. He was in the morgue…” He died suddenly from an illness. You know what? When I found him, it was already a week later! The body was completely decomposed; you can't even imagine how awful it smelled. No amount of deodorizer could get rid of the stench! That rat must have grown up eating corpses! It must have! Could it be that there's a corpse hiding in my house? My husband is dead, and my two sons don't want to live with me, leaving me, a woman, alone in this run-down apartment. Officer, you must find that body! The thought of a corpse in my house keeps me awake at night; I'll go crazy if I don't find it! Don't do this to me…” Mrs. Goh began to scream hysterically.

In fact, Jian Xiang really didn't want to take a deep breath to verify it. Besides, he could imagine why young children wouldn't want to celebrate with their mothers, and the smells of a rotting human corpse and a rotting dog corpse were indistinguishable. Mrs. Goh's reaction was entirely psychological.

“Mrs. Ge,” Jian Xiangqiang said calmly, “you should actually call the fire department to handle this kind of thing.”

"What did you say? What did you say?"