witchcraft

【text】

【Finate dye】

Chapter One: Jumping from the Building

When the tip was received, Feng Qi and his mentor Wang Qingyun were preparing to go home after get off work.

"Someone committed suicide? Is he dead? Where?" Wang Qingyun asked lazily, showing no intention of leaving, but Feng Qi immediately perked up. He had been working at the newspaper for over two months, and every day he just followed his mentor around covering community news—nothing more than piles of uncollected garbage here, or neighborhood disputes there—all trivial matters. He was already fed up with it, and every day he couldn't stop thinking about writing a sensational story.

Wang Qingyun hung up the phone and sighed. Today was his daughter's birthday, and he had promised to leave work early to celebrate together. He silently looked at his eager apprentice beside him. Young people always have more energy. People like him, who had been reporters for decades, had either been promoted or become editors; he was the only one left—nothing, nothing at all. He was tired, too tired to run anymore. Now, all he wanted was to spend quality time with his wife and children, whom he had neglected for so long.

"Teacher Wang? Shall we go now?" Feng Qi deftly stuffed his interview notebook and pen into his bag, then turned around and saw his mentor's self-deprecating smile.

"I have something to do, Xiao Feng, you go ahead, I'll be there in a bit."

Go alone? Feng Qi hesitated. He was just an intern with no experience in interviewing and reporting breaking news alone. Although he really wanted to go, there were certain rules he couldn't break.

Seeing Feng Qi's concerns, Wang Qingyun patted him on the shoulder: "It's okay, I'll come as soon as I'm done."

Feng Qi wasn't stupid. Before receiving the tip-off call, Wang Qingyun didn't have anything absolutely important to do; she just didn't want to go. If he didn't know his place, this rare opportunity might slip away, and he might even get himself into trouble. Thinking of this, Feng Qi nodded: "Then, Teacher Wang, I'll go first!"

Handing the slip of paper with the address written on it to Feng Qi, Wang Qingyun patted him on the shoulder symbolically: "Young man, do a good job!"

When Feng Qi arrived at the scene, all that remained was a pool of blood on the cement ground and a lingering crowd of onlookers. Standing beside the bloodstain and looking up, one could see an eight-story building, weathered and dilapidated from its age. Surrounded by two-story bungalows or street gardens, the eight-story building stood out conspicuously.

"What about the person who committed suicide?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the crowd erupted like a drop of water falling into a pot of oil.

"You didn't see it, it was terrifying! That girl's arms and legs were broken. When they carried her away, her arms were still hanging out, swinging back and forth."

"Wrong! It hit its head on the ground first, and the back of its head was broken. See those white things on the ground? That's brain matter!"

Upon hearing this, everyone gasped.

"But I don't think that girl is dead yet! Wasn't she taken to the hospital?"

"I saw it. When they lifted him up, he didn't move at all. He lost so much blood, his brains were even flung out. It would be strange if he didn't die!"

The discussion continued, and Feng Qi was exasperated to find that everyone's account differed, making it clear that trying to get information from these middle-aged women was futile. With a sigh, he closed his notebook and decided to go to the hospital.

A cold, stern voice rang out at that moment.

"There are no people who commit suicide, only people who fall from buildings."

Feng Qi looked in surprise toward the source of the abrupt voice. The speaker was a thin, hunched old man with meticulously groomed white hair. His cold gaze through his black-rimmed glasses sent a chill down Feng Qi's spine.

"Grandpa, do you know what happened back then?"

Feng Qi's intuition told him that this old man was very different from the chattering onlookers; perhaps he knew the inside story. Just as he was about to pick up his pen to take notes, the old man raised his hand to stop him, asking, "Are you a reporter?"

“Yes, sir, I am Feng Qi, a reporter from Zhicheng Daily. How did you come to be here—” Feng Qi automatically omitted the word “intern” and was about to ask a question when he was interrupted.

"Just started working?"

“Yes, may I ask you…” Feng Qi was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

Which school did you graduate from?

"Zhicheng University"

"Zhicheng University does not have a journalism department."

"I studied public administration..."

"Your *Zhicheng Times* has a few reporters who graduated from reputable university journalism programs, but just because someone studied journalism doesn't guarantee they'll be a good reporter. People from Zhicheng?"

"Yes"

"Where are your parents? Which organization do they work for?"

"..."

"I didn't hear you! You're so young, your voice is as soft as a mosquito's buzz!"

Feng Qi was even more troubled. What exactly did this old man who suddenly appeared want? From the very beginning, he was asking probing questions: Was he giving an interview, or was he interviewing someone else?

"Old man, did you witness that girl commit suicide with your own eyes?"

"No!"

The forceful reply left Feng Qi feeling utterly powerless. Are retired old people these days just looking for trouble when they have nothing better to do? It's such a waste of my time and energy. Feng Qi gave up on arguing with him and turned to leave.

“One last question!” The old man stepped forward, grabbed Feng Qi’s shoulder, and his five seemingly withered fingers gripped Feng Qi’s collarbone with unexpected strength. “The police haven’t determined whether this girl committed suicide, was murdered, or it was just an accident. Yet you insist she committed suicide, which shows that this impression is deeply ingrained in your mind. That’s why your first impression is so strong. How did you come to this conclusion? The girl was only taken away five minutes ago, and the hospital is just across the street. You took a taxi, paid the driver a fifty-yuan green bill, and the driver gave you two ten-yuan bills in change, which means you spent 30 yuan on the fare. If I remember correctly, it costs about thirty yuan from the Zhicheng Times newspaper office to this area. It would take at least twenty-five minutes for you to get here from the Zhicheng Daily. You need to know that twenty minutes ago, nothing happened. All the eyewitnesses only saw her fall, but they don’t know anything about what happened before that. Suicide, homicide, accident—these are all just speculations. Or do you know someone who saw what happened?”

Stunned by the question, Feng Qi stared blankly at the old man.

"Who are you?"

"police"

Judging by his gray hair, he must be at least 70 years old. What kind of policeman is that old and still out at crime scenes? Are you kidding me?

Seeing Feng Qi's disbelieving expression, the old man rarely showed an unnatural expression: "A retired policeman is still a policeman."

The problem came somewhat unexpectedly; Feng Qi hadn't considered it much beforehand. His purpose was quite simple—to report a big news story to prove himself. Now, thinking about it more carefully, it makes sense; if the old man's story is true, then the case isn't so simple. What should he do? Wang Qingyun answered the phone; he hadn't handled the case himself. Should he tell the truth?

"I think we should go to the hospital to get a checkup and find out the facts before making any decisions."

“Going to the hospital will only get you a corpse. You should go check out the crime scene first; you might find something. Ugh, these cigarettes these days aren't even cigarettes, they have no flavor at all!” The old man pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, grumbling as he pulled Feng Qi into the old building. Just as they reached the stairwell, he seemed to remem

……