Das Grab von Qin Shi Huang

Kapitel 54

For a moment, Finland felt as if her breath had stopped. After a long while, she managed to utter a sound with difficulty:

"So, was it suicide?"

“A very suspicious suicide!” The police nodded. “Witnesses said that her condition was very strange at the time. She kept holding her head and complaining of pain, and she was walking unsteadily, just like she was drunk. At first, we thought she was drinking too much or taking stimulants, but the autopsy results overturned this idea.”

Finland closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Yes, it was at the moment she pounded the photograph that the woman in reality suffered a splitting headache and ultimately met her death. The photograph the police brought showed her death in a gruesome manner, far more horrific than she had imagined; the bloody, fleshy pieces were almost unrecognizable as belonging to anyone else.

"So, we're closing the case as suicide?" Her emotions quickly stabilized, and the police were surprised by the calmness of her tone. "Maybe she was mentally ill or just couldn't think straight, but anyway, suicide, right?" She thought to herself, "Because there are many eyewitnesses."

The policeman gave a vague reply and put away his empty notebook. But before leaving, he uttered a sentence that sent chills down the spines of the Finns, proving that he had ulterior motives. One could even say that he might have already discovered something.

He said, "We plan to start with the victim's social relationships. More than one person has confirmed that this woman named Shu Min was someone's long-term mistress."

Volume 3: Hell Records and Ghostly Photos (Part 5)

Her head exploded with a buzzing sound. Even though the policeman had long since disappeared, the turmoil in her heart lingered. The policeman's parting words were like a boulder, casting waves of emotion across her heart.

But even if they discovered the ambiguous relationship between "Shu Min" and her husband, even if they suspected that she had come to see Finland before her death, what did that prove? Two huge words floated into her mind: "suicide"! That's right, at the same moment Shu Min jumped onto the train, Finland stayed at home without moving an inch. All she did was cut out a "piece of dirt" that didn't belong to this family from a photograph.

The smug smile that hadn't even blossomed on her lips froze instantly. Better safe than sorry; she had to hide the photo quickly, and absolutely not let her husband find out! She finally managed to hide it when she heard the door open. It was her husband—her heart leaped into her throat. Was he coming home way too early today?

"You're back?" she asked慌张地, "Dinner isn't ready yet?"

The husband didn't say a word, letting himself sink deeper into the sofa. He'd seemed very lonely lately.

"Want to go out for dinner?" she asked, peeking out from the bathroom.

Her husband waved his hand in her direction, "I don't want to move."

"Then just grab something to eat? We don't have enough food at home." She slowly peered at her husband's expression in the mirror, but his lowered head prevented her from seeing anything. "Oh, right!" she said casually, testing him again, "The police came to our house today."

"The police?" The husband's whole body convulsed as if he had been electrocuted, and he almost jumped up. "What did he say to you?"

Something's not right, something's definitely fishy! His anxious expression made her think he looked like he wanted to devour her whole. Finland couldn't help but wonder if the police had already questioned her husband. So she calmly replied, "Someone died nearby!"

"...That's all?"

"Saying it was a woman who committed suicide, isn't that the same old story?" She sat down next to her husband and asked aimlessly, "You know about this?"

"I've heard a little bit..." the husband replied hesitantly, his eyes darting around. "I don't know the details."

"It's said she committed suicide by lying on the train tracks. The scene was a bloody mess, a truly gruesome sight!" Finland watched her husband closely. "The police said she was a great beauty in life. Who would have thought that such a tragic fate would befall her like this..."

"She...didn't she commit suicide?" the husband asked, somewhat flustered.

“Yes,” Finland raised her unkempt eyebrows. “But if nothing bad happened, why would a perfectly beautiful woman commit suicide? And by lying on the train tracks, the most gruesome way to die, it’s terrifying just thinking about it… Sigh!” She sighed loudly. “I wonder if some heartless man abandoned her… Young people, they’re so prone to making rash decisions…”

Every word she spoke was like an invisible whip, lashing heavily at her husband's heart. Self-blame was an invisible shackle—if she hadn't been disfigured, if I hadn't abandoned her, she wouldn't have ended up in such a miserable state—surely, her husband's heart was filled with such sorrow and grief at this moment? Finland couldn't bear to watch any longer; she quietly turned her back, because she was certain that her husband's eyes were already glistening with tears.

After that, the police never came to their door again; perhaps they had removed the couple from the suspect list? Having learned his lesson the hard way, the husband seemed to have a renewed love for his family, turning over a new leaf and becoming a dutiful and responsible husband. He not only came home from get off work on time every day, declining all unnecessary social engagements, but even showed a long-lost passion for his aging wife, promising her one night that they would have a child. Finland was immersed in this small family happiness, feeling the vitality of her youth return. In a good mood, she naturally radiated beauty, and even her previously plump figure seemed lighter. She couldn't help but secretly hope that these happy days could last forever.

However, this happy period didn't last long. One morning, she woke up to find the bed beside her empty—her husband had left without a word, without waking her or eating breakfast. A sense of foreboding washed over Finland; the brief, blissful family life she had gained through the ghostly photograph was now gone forever.

Sure enough, her husband's behavior returned to normal afterward: busy with social engagements and negotiations, and even when he stepped into the house, he would only go to bed as a formality. He never touched Finland again, and listening to his familiar yet unfamiliar snoring, Finland couldn't help but shed two hot tears in the darkness.

Was it because of a woman? Finland retrieved the eerie photograph from its hiding place. The large hole she had torn out was still there, but no new head appeared. Perhaps a new woman wasn't worthy of being in this photograph, standing beside her husband? She gazed at her husband's sharply defined, vibrant face in the photo and sighed.

"You women..." she said, "why are you always scrambling to steal my man?"

Shu Min was by no means the first woman's head to appear in the photo, the terrifying woman's head that looked like a dead person—in fact, Finland not only recognized that face, but was very familiar with it.

Her name is Ping, and she has been Finland's best friend for many years. She even served as Finland's bridesmaid at her wedding. At the wedding, Finland wore a pure white wedding dress, exuding elegance and grace, while Ping wore a form-fitting evening gown, showcasing her slender figure. Finland, overwhelmed by happiness, didn't notice that her husband was intentionally or unintentionally avoiding Ping's gaze, while Ping's ardent eyes remained fixed on the groom.

The next thing she did was go on her honeymoon, and the couple went to Huangshan Mountain together. In the rush, she made a mistake and her husband's phone was taken by mistake. Then, at the Bright Summit at an altitude of 1860 meters, she received a text message that was like a thunderbolt to her.

It turns out that Ping had always secretly loved her husband, and he had also been having an affair with her behind Finland's back for a while—however, in the end, her husband chose Finland as his wife, not Ping. Ping was unwilling to break off contact with her husband, and she pleaded in text messages, saying that she would be willing to be his mistress if he wanted her!

What a despicable woman! Finland gritted her teeth, raising her phone high as if she wanted to throw it off a cliff and smash it to pieces to vent her anger! But her hand suddenly stopped in mid-air because she thought of a better solution.

Volume 3: Hell Records and Ghostly Photos (Part 6) - Complete

She replied to Ping with an extremely vicious text message; betrayed by both her friend and husband, Finland did not hesitate to use the most vulgar, insidious, and despicable words to bestow upon the unfortunate third party.

For a long, long time, there was no reply. The sea of clouds resembled a continuous, undulating cotton blanket, concealing whatever was happening below. She happily ran into her husband's arms and took a loving photo of the two of them in front of the love lock.

After returning home, the first thing she did was develop the honeymoon photos, and the second thing she did was inquire about Ping's whereabouts.

Ping committed suicide.

That very evening after receiving that text message, she took a bath in her own bathtub and slit her wrists, dying. Hearing this, Finland felt a wave of relief wash over her, only to be immediately overwhelmed by a deluge of grief. She didn't want Ping to die. Her true intention…

I just wanted her to back out on her own! Is her husband so charming that Ping would rather lose her life than be abandoned by him?

Thinking about it carefully, aren't I the same? To stay by my husband's side, I'm willing to use such despicable means to attack my best friend... Ping, oh Ping, a bitter taste lingers in Finland's mouth. We are all crazy people driven mad by love!

It was after that that Ping's dead face appeared in the photo in front of the love lock, as if even in death, she was trying to prevent Finland from being intimate with her husband. Finland felt a deep disgust for her lingering image, but at least she wasn't like those living young women who would continue to cling to their husbands.

Finland held up the photograph, scrutinizing her dashing husband repeatedly, and muttered to herself as if speaking to him: "You and your women, watch out! With this photograph, no matter how many mistresses you have, I can kill as many as I want without lifting a finger!"

"Doctor, has there been any progress in my wife's illness?"

“It’s the same as before,” the doctor shook his head, looking helplessly at the anxious man in front of him. This is the largest psychiatric hospital in the province, and the woman named “Finland” was brought to this hospital by her husband for treatment of hallucination disorder.

Although she suffers from mental illness, the female patient behaves no differently than a normal person, except for one thing: she would hold a wedding photo and shout that it was a "ghostly photo" and so on.

She even told the nurses a strange story about the photograph.

“She said she could kill someone with a photo, right?” The husband laughed with distress. “She said the woman whose face she slashed died in a train accident… She described it so vividly that no one could help but believe it.”

“Of course these aren’t real?” the doctor asked.

"Is that even a question?" the husband replied without changing his expression. "She even said the police had contacted her!"

The husband returned to his car, where a woman wearing sunglasses was waiting for him. As soon as he got into the car, the woman quickly took off her sunglasses and offered her bright red lips, and the two kissed passionately.

After a long while, their tightly pressed lips finally parted reluctantly. "Your trick really worked!" The woman stroked the man's broad back, her eyes filled with admiration. His young, handsome face was so similar to the one in the ghost photos, as if they were made from the same mold. "She was completely fooled by you!"

The man laughed smugly. "You know, I'm in the prime of my career right now, so I can't get a divorce." He affectionately pulled the woman into his arms. "But I wish I could be by your side every single minute."

There's an even more important point... Finland has an elderly and wealthy great-aunt who has no children and has already made a will designating Finland as her heir. If they divorce, or even if he kills Finland, that fortune of over a million will simply slip away—something he absolutely does not want to see.

Just then, he accidentally discovered that Finland had a strange interest in a honeymoon photo. He monitored Finland's every move through a pinhole camera, understood the clues, and then used the photo to set up a scheme to "fake mental instability".

It was all an act: the head in the photo, the mistress's disfigurement and suicide, and the subordinate brought in to impersonate a policeman… Finland's superstition about the photo made her easily believe the lie. Ultimately, convinced she possessed voodoo powers, Finland was sent to a mental hospital by her husband. Her husband visited her daily, comforting and caring for her, earning him the reputation of a "model husband." "I will not abandon Finland," he told his in-laws resolutely, holding his wife's hand. "I will wait for her to recover and return to my side!"

As for the woman beside him… although she kept clamoring to get married, he always brushed it off with the excuse that it would “have a bad influence.” He wouldn’t be stupid enough to remarry! He had finally escaped the cage of Finland, and his happy single life had just begun. Why would he be so foolish as to jump into a fire pit again? Besides, although this woman was beautiful, he would get tired of her in less than a year. By then, with money and status, wouldn’t he have beautiful women on both sides and everything he could want? He had always been extremely confident in his charm.

Only one thing cast a slight shadow over his current life, which had finally turned from hardship to happiness. He racked his brains but couldn't figure it out.

"Finland keeps saying there's Ping's head in the photo..." He gently patted his forehead, "but I didn't see anything. What about you?"

The woman shook her head in confusion. She was now only thinking about how happy she would be with this man in the future; the past was no longer on her mind.

"Didn't you see? There really is a woman's head!" Finland exclaimed, clutching the photo and chattering incessantly, "Ping! Ping!"

“You’re right,” a man’s voice said softly, and then a pair of snow-white gloves were extended in front of her. “If I may be so bold, you have a pair of eyes that are sharper than most people can see.”

“Right!” Finland was both happy and proud. She looked up, and the man in black standing in front of her struck her like a bolt of lightning in the night sky. “You’re the…the one who took the photos?”

The astrologer smiled slightly, a gentlemanly and elegant smile unlike anything ever seen in Finland:

"I am truly flattered that you still remember me. To repay your kindness, please tell me your wish..."

For the price of blood and flesh, an astrologer will grant you all your dreams… Finland held up the photo in front of the love lock; in her youth, she and her husband were so radiant, their youthful energy palpable. Back then, she had everything she wanted: love, career, beauty. Since she had nothing left, she might as well offer her blood as a sacrifice to obtain something practical. She tossed and turned, considering it all night, and finally made up her mind.

Then she quickly drifted off to sleep. She dreamt she was seventeen, sitting on the back of her husband's bicycle, her arms wrapped around his thin frame. The bicycle bounced up and down on the gravel road, sunlight streaming down from above her husband's head, bathing him in a golden glow, and a gentle breeze ruffled her flowing dress, carrying the sweet scent of wildflowers from the fields. "Ride slower!" she heard herself calling out to her husband, "Don't tire yourself out!"

A tear rolled down her cheek; she understood that those days were gone forever, and they could never go back. No matter how powerful the astrologer was, that summer, blown by the wind, would never, ever return.

Book 4 The Soul Singer Prologue: The Thirteenth Song of Mystery

It was too late. She felt her strength fading away, her soul being siphoned off by an invisible hand, escaping from her body bit by bit, vanishing into nothingness into an unknown vacuum. Crimson blood blurred her vision, and she instinctively gave a bitter smile. Was this the inevitable death she had been trying to escape, yet had never been able to avoid? Countless times she had caught glimpses of Death's black robes, but she had always managed to slip away unscathed through the gaps in his exposed bones. But this time, would Death's scythe finally reap her soul?

It was such a sweet yet terrifying taste!

She wasn't afraid of death; she simply reached out her hand, unwilling to give up, trying to grasp something unattainable. Her blurred vision couldn't see the throng of heads crowding before her, nor hear the words conveying tension and anxiety. "Just a little more..." If someone had heard her cry at that moment, how astonished they would have been by the powerful life force hidden within this frail body, "My wish is not yet fulfilled... If only I had a little more time, I would definitely..."

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. At 00:00:00, she was forced to stop breathing.

I don't know when it started, but a song like this became popular.

The singer's identity remains a mystery; her name, age, appearance, and life story are all unknown, except that she is a woman—from her voice, she seems to be a young girl, but no one can be sure. Even more strangely, people know nothing about the lyrics. The voice, seemingly flowing naturally from the singer's throat, is pure and sweet, like a clear spring gently flowing through the hearts of the listeners, yet it also sounds like a timid young girl, with a simple and mellow shyness from the countryside, shyly raising her head to greet the crowd. It is not any language that exists in the world, but the singer's inner voice, the singer's soliloquy.

Such an unusual song was destined never to be released by any record company. Therefore, its appearance, like the song itself, was quiet and elusive. The first discoverer, Amy, simply bought a new album by a certain superstar. After listening to all twelve songs of her idol, Amy was completely immersed in that magnetic voice, letting the CD player continue playing. After about three minutes of silence, the nameless singer, that fatal song, suddenly and without warning, began to play.

Without surprise or disdain, Amy listened to the entire song by this unknown newcomer. Her face was covered in tears of sorrow.

She copied all the songs from the CDs into her computer and finally found that song—the song's name was "Untitled."

"Major Discovery! The Mysterious Thirteenth Song!" With this headline, she posted the story online, searching for others who had purchased the album. To her utter surprise, the attention was phenomenal. It wasn't just this superstar's album; any recently released album by any artist with twelve tracks invariably had this "Untitled" thirteenth song. Moreover, everyone who heard the song reacted with unanimous agreement.

"It sounds great!"

The lyrics are incomprehensible, and there's very little musical accompaniment; the entire song is sung by the singer alone—it's clearly just a soliloquy, a dreamlike murmur, yet the sorrow instantly washes over the listener, gently shattering their last line of defense. What other song in the world can capture hearts so instantly, reaching such heights? Strangely, this song on the CD cannot be copied. No matter what method is used, it can only be played on the disc; it cannot be converted to other formats, let alone copied directly. It seems completely unrelated to the other songs on the CD, simply clinging to the record, waiting to be listened to. Those who have listened to it have become devoted fans, tirelessly promoting this "mysterious thirteenth song" on various forums. The audience grows exponentially, directly resulting in a surge in record sales, boosting the entire record industry. However, this false prosperity has nothing to do with the poor singer; what people truly want to hear is simply "Untitled."

That song became a topic of enduring interest, with its mysterious appearance and the singer's identity being the focus of attention, as well as the enigmatic language it sang. Many people tried to decipher the mystery of the lyrics, but no one could produce convincing evidence. Finally, an insider stepped forward.

He claimed that it was a language invented by the singer himself, called "self-talk".

In an instant, "self-talk" became the most controversial phrase of the year, and the singer who had remained hidden behind the scenes suddenly became the focus of attention. A huge number of fans cheered day and night, calling for the singer to show his true face. The momentum was so great that even the most popular superstars were envious. The "mystery song" spread like wildfire to every corner of the country. In its presence, all other singers were reduced to mere decorative ornaments.

Then, on a Black Friday afternoon, radio stations across the country suddenly broadcast exciting news: after careful consideration, the female singer who rose to fame with her hit song "Untitled" had finally decided to officially release her debut solo album. This news wasn't announced by the sweet-voiced singer herself, as many expected, but rather read aloud by a radio announcer. Simultaneously, all the major radio stations also announced the singer's name.

Or rather, the names of those singers.

The band "Hallucination".

Debuting under this name, they are poised to unleash a storm in the pop music scene, potentially even overturning the stagnant and unambitious entertainment industry. Aside from their name, everything about them remains a mystery: the number of band members, their genders, their talents—only they promise to reveal more at their debut album release. This complete secrecy has greatly aroused the attention of listeners and media alike, with everyone eagerly anticipating that day.

No one could have imagined that this would be the beginning of a series of cruel and horrific events.

Volume Four: The Soul Singer, First Movement: Tales of the Mirror of Life (Part One)

"Hey, did you see that? That handsome guy in the black shirt~"

"What?! Handsome guy? He's clearly an old man, though he's not bad looking..."

"What do you know?" the former interrupted the latter rudely. "He's an astrologer who can tell fortunes, of course he has to dress more maturely, more composedly, and more mysteriously. Who would go to him for a reading if they looked like a little kid?"

"Wow!" the second person exclaimed dramatically. "No wonder he looks so gloomy, like a vampire... Quick! Quick!" Her voice suddenly became urgent, and her tone rose sharply. "He's watching us!"

The astrologer, who had just woken up, chuckled slightly at the incessant chatter of several young girls. The girls, around seventeen or eighteen years old, had been whispering amongst themselves by the courtyard gate, thinking no one knew, unaware that the wind had already carried their conversation to the astrologer's ears. Although he looked only in his early twenties, still a handsome young man, calling him an "old man" wouldn't be an exaggeration given his actual age. Looking at the girls' expressions—a mixture of nervousness, curiosity, and inexplicable excitement—he figured a good greeting might reveal unexpectedly good guests. So he strolled over.

Calculating horoscopes, especially love horoscopes—the astrologer knows perfectly well what girls this age need most. They're still young, not yet at the age to worry about careers and jobs, let alone marriage. Love, the intoxicating kind of love, is what they care about most right now. The astrologer calmly observes their faces, whether radiant or ordinary, calculating their future love fortunes one by one. Either they're experiencing a lucky break or true love is on its way—the astrologer aims to ensure every girl leaves the astrology shop with beautiful dreams. Now, only one girl remains.

She clearly hesitated for a long time before finally speaking, urged on by her sisters.

"...Can I ask about anything else?"