veneno Gu

Capítulo 1

The beginning of a story always corresponds to its ending, but people are used to only looking at the present and even discussing things in isolation, often failing to see the relationship between the beginning and the end in life. Perhaps it is because they are too far apart, and by the time people can see the ending, the beginning has long since disappeared without a trace.

Scene: Fear Inevitably Occurs in the Dark

In 1940s China, apples weren't as common or cheap as they are now, nor were they a rare treat that anyone could easily afford. Mao Zedong, who had once been a cowherd, valued practicality, affordability, and satisfying tastes in food. So, when he spoke of our newly liberated city, he couldn't help but rejoice, saying, "That place produces apples!" In other words, a city that produced apples had been liberated! From then on, we could have apples to eat!

Another military commander, then young, was busy directing battles every day, surrounded by men and rarely saw women, let alone beautiful women. So when he entered our city, conquered by men, he was greeted by a unique kind of beauty, a feast for the eyes. However, he couldn't reveal his thoughts to his subordinates then; that would seem improper, even questionable. So, he kept it to himself for over twenty years, listening to his no-longer-young wife recount their son's marriage. The brilliance of those days rekindled in his heart. Gazing out the window, he seemed to see the graceful lady from his youth, pointing for a long time before softly saying, "There are beautiful women in that place, you should go and see."

The smoke of war from years past has long since dissipated. What major city hasn't this commander visited? What kind of beautiful women hasn't he seen? Yet, the fact that our region is known for its beautiful women remains vividly in his memory. From this, we can infer that the beauties of our region once captivated him.

However, fifty-five years later, a lustful man, a few years older than the leader of that time, also discovered that our city had many beautiful women. Although he had never fought a war or fired a single shot, he plunged our city, known for its beautiful women, into terror.

The shadow of SARS was fading away, the neon lights at night were shining brighter, and the laughter of men and women in colorful clothes had just begun to echo on the streets when he shattered all of that. The streets were quiet and desolate again in the evening, and women on their way home from get off work were fleeing back to places of refuge as if being chased by a demon. Even children spoke to their parents in hushed tones at night, afraid that he would hear them.

What ability does he have to make women feel that he is always by their side at night, holding a swift-firing murder knife?

What abilities does he have to cause a city's security doors and windows to become expensive and sold out? And to make restaurants and karaoke bars deserted at night?

What ability does he have to make almost all the police in a city come out at night to set up a net and try to catch him?

Why did he deliberately arrange the murder scene to be eerie, terrifying, bizarre, and outlandish? Why did he intentionally flaunt his bloodshed and arrogance? What message did he want to convey to the city? Why did he want to make the city tremble in the darkness?

Is he alone, or part of a criminal gang?

Is he a repeat offender or a first-time offender?

He left the city's residents and police with countless unsolved mysteries.

The head of the criminal investigation team told me that he has left us with many unsolved mysteries! It's really giving me a headache.

When I interviewed her, her hands were still trembling, and she stammered that she only realized later that the terrifying man had been stalking and spying on her for a long time. She fainted when she saw his eyes glowing red in the darkness. But she didn't know he was a ruthless killer, and of course, neither did the police.

This first terrifying and bizarre case occurred in a major northern town known for its beautiful women, specifically in the Gujing District.

Gujing District, Gujing District—people are so used to saying it, like Dongcheng District or Nancheng District, that no one would suspect it has any other meaning. But my friend—Yang Ming, a reporter for the Evening News who loves to get to the bottom of things—said that there must be ancient stories hidden in this well, and it should be unearthed. The result of his investigation was, he said, terrifying. Several elderly people in their eighties and nineties said they grew up drinking water from this ancient well. They said that this precious well was passed down to them by their ancestors, and the water was sweet, warm in winter and cool in summer.

They said that back then, people drank water from underground sources, even livestock drank from underground water—how could it not be clean? How could it not be nutritious? How could people not be strong? How could there not be beautiful women? Now, people drink water from the ground, cool in winter and hot in summer—how could it not be dirty? How could it not be nutritious? How could people not get cancer from drinking it? They also said that when they were young, the well water was clear and sweet; later, the well water became muddy and salty; and later still, the well water turned black and bitter. When the water was sweet, the residents of the town would hire people to clean the well every year. Those with money contributed money, those with strength contributed labor, and those with more money contributed more. Cleaning the well was a grand event back then, decorated with red and green, and adults and children from every household would come to watch the excitement.

Later, with modernization, private cars were required, roads needed to be widened, buildings needed to be upgraded, and cities needed to be taller, bigger, brighter, and more bustling. The district head at the time said, "What's the use of keeping this rotten well except for getting in the way? Fill it in!" With just one sentence from an official, and considering that road construction already involved digging up a lot of stones and soil, filling in an ancient well wouldn't be difficult, would it? By the time the elderly people who grew up drinking well water heard about this and came to see for themselves, the ancient well that had nourished countless generations had already been buried alive.

No one in the important northern town can drink the sweet water from the ancient well anymore.

People who grow up drinking tap water are obviously much smarter, more fashionable, more sophisticated, and much wealthier than those who grow up drinking well water.

She was very beautiful and lived in the Gujing District, where the ancient wells no longer existed.

During the height of the SARS outbreak, there was no toilet paper, and people were afraid to go to the supermarket. Someone returning from Beijing told me about a bureau chief who flew back from Hong Kong. Upon arriving home, he developed a high fever. His wife used her work unit's car to take him to the hospital. On the way back, the driver also developed a high fever. Both the bureau chief and the driver died in the hospital. The bureau chief's wife was then hospitalized, and after her death, her daughter who had taken her to the hospital, and her daughter's boyfriend, also developed high fevers and were hospitalized…

SARS seems to be over now, and there are gradually more people in shops, supermarkets, and restaurants. She was comparing different kinds of toilet paper in the supermarket, trying to pick out one that was both good quality and cheap. It was so hard to choose. Cheap things are never good, and good things aren't cheap. But she didn't have much money to buy good products, and she didn't want to use cheap, shoddy ones. Those shoddy papers were so crumbly when she wiped her bottom.

She recalled that the man who touched her buttocks while she was looking back and forth at the prices of the toilet paper was him. At that time, she didn't pay any attention to the man; she only remembered that he immediately turned away after being stared at for a moment.

Have you ever walked a dark road at night? When you're in such a state, what's the most useful thing for you? Blind people have exceptionally developed hearing and senses, and sighted people also become exceptionally sensitive to hearing and senses when walking in the dark. When you're so suspicious and terrified, your ears suddenly become incredibly sharp. You can not only hear the sounds happening nearby, but also distant and past sounds, and you can even hear your grandparents telling ghost stories. Suddenly, you hear many terrifying things that you would never have thought of during the day.

What beautiful woman isn't afraid of the dark? So she's been afraid of the night since she was little, and even more afraid of walking alone in the dark. When she goes back to her rural hometown for holidays, she always prepares a chamber pot in the daytime, otherwise she won't dare to go to the outhouse in the vegetable garden if she wets the bed at night.

Who can help but fear the dark? Because in the dark, sight is taken away, and people can no longer see the dangers hidden within. The more one cannot see through the darkness, the more one suspects that there may be danger there; in the minds of ordinary people, darkness and danger become synonymous.

A dark night is a night for murder, a windy day is a day for arson. Humans are born with a fear of darkness, thunder, earthquakes, floods, plagues, diseases, and death. This is primal human fear, an insurmountable fear, and a human instinct. Who can feel happy alone in the dark or under a thunderstorm? Fear of being laid off, fear of bosses, fear of setbacks, fear of taking the wrong medicine, fear of poverty, fear of robbery, fear of SARS—these are merely fears learned in life. People living in cities have both primal fears and acquired fears, resulting in an ever-growing number of fears. However, their fears are not as numerous as those in rural areas; at least they don't have to fear village bullies or being unpaid as migrant workers.

Leaving the brightly lit main street and entering the dark alley, she said her scalp felt tingly and her ears became sharp; she could hear the wind rustling through the leaves clearly, and the rustling of footsteps behind her. As she walked, she suddenly stopped, pricking up her ears to listen intently.

The saying goes, "If you pay attention, you'll see." Once she did, she immediately noticed something was wrong with the footsteps behind her. Why were they so heavy-handed? They must be drunk; otherwise, why would they walk like that? Nine out of ten men are unruly when drunk. Listening more intently, she could also hear heavy breathing, hissing and rattling, as if they had phlegm in their throats. She felt every hair on her body turn into sharp, prickly points, and she panicked, unable to move.

I suddenly remembered what my mother used to say when I was little: those who love to walk at night are bound to encounter ghosts. What decent woman isn't afraid of walking in the dark? Never look back, especially if you hear someone behind you. If you look back out of fear, wanting to see what's behind you, he'll think you're calling him or flirting with him. If he realizes you're afraid, he'll become even bolder! There's only one way: move quickly! Go where there are many people, go where there's light, go into buildings.

Her mother's words were truly prophetic. She quickened her pace, slipped quietly into her building, and peered out from the shadows. Sure enough, she saw the man standing some distance away, staring towards the building entrance. He was short, thin, with a small head and face, wearing an old suit. She laughed at herself inwardly, "What are you afraid of? What can he do to you? He's barely three blocks tall, probably just a young boy."

But she still didn't dare stomp her foot to turn on the motion-activated light on the first floor. The dark stairwell seemed exceptionally long tonight, and climbing it felt particularly strenuous. She tiptoed up to the third floor before daring to cough once. When the light came on, she couldn't help but look back at the stairwell behind her. She quickened her pace, almost running back to the sixth floor, pulling out her keys as she ran. When she reached the door, she couldn't get the key into the lock no matter what she tried. After a long struggle, she finally made it safely back to her home. The security door was thick and sturdy, and it was locked tightly. Now she wasn't afraid of anything; even if he came up to the sixth floor, she wouldn't be afraid anymore.

I sat on the sofa in the living room, took a breath, lazily threw off my high heels, took off my coat, leaving only my bra and panties, and immediately felt so relaxed.

But for some reason, she always felt that someone was watching her from behind.

How could that be? How could there be a stranger in the room?

She went into the bathroom, intending to wash her pantyhose while she was at it. Coming out naked to get the socks, she saw a man from the opposite building holding a pair of binoculars in front of her. He was huge; she was nearly scared to death. It was already very hot, and the door to the balcony was open from morning till night. Terrified, she stood there, only concerned with covering her lower body with her hands, forgetting to hide. Afterwards, she was so angry she cried a lot. How could she have been so foolish as to let him see her naked? Why didn't she hide? She hated that scoundrel who had stared at her so intently. Later, it was the scoundrel who felt embarrassed and quietly hid.

Later, on the roadside, she saw a vendor holding one of those big green binoculars and realized that it was actually a weapon of the Soviet Red Army.

She drew the curtains on the balcony, hurriedly took a shower in the bathroom, put on a loose nightgown, and half-reclined, half-sat on the sofa in the living room. She turned on the TV with the remote control, watched for a few moments, and then, whether it was real or just her imagination, she suddenly felt a jolt and thought someone was outside the door. She hurriedly and tiptoed to the door, pressed one eye against the peephole, and looked out. Suddenly, she saw a nightmarish darkness outside the door that seemed endless and unfathomable. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff at the end of the night, with a vast ocean below her feet, and if she wasn't careful, she would fall into an abyss.

Who created this darkness outside? It's so eerie.

A sudden, soft noise came from the darkness, like sand crunching underfoot, which startled her so much that she collapsed to the ground, her heart pounding. Then she clearly heard a man's footsteps, running downstairs. Could it be that the scoundrel who'd been watching her through binoculars across the street had come looking for her? Her heart pounded, her palms sweated, and her legs felt so weak she could barely move.

She was stunned for a long time, but then she suddenly realized that he must have noticed that the light from the peephole was gone when he was clinging to the door. Of course, someone inside was looking out, so he ran downstairs.

Thinking about this made her break out in a cold sweat and her heart pound. This kind of scoundrel of a man who kept pestering her must have some bad intentions. She didn't dare to think any further, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about it.

She turned and went to the balcony, hiding behind the wall, and looked down. A moment later, a short man emerged from the building like a shadow. Strange, very strange. How could he walk without making a sound? How could he move like a shadow? How could he be as silent as a paper cutout?

The paper-cut man silently went to the wall, unlocked his bicycle, pushed the bicycle, turned around and looked up at her. Then, his shadow gradually melted into the darkness of the night.

Why is the night so eerily dark tonight? So eerily dark? So dark it makes your heart race?

The shadowy man emerged from the darkness again, floated downstairs, looked up at her, and grinned, his laughter causing her heart to ache, her legs to go weak, and she fainted.

Afterwards, she said that he saw something flowing from my eyes, which looked blood red and burned my eyes like a branding iron, hurting my heart.

She later said that the incident reminded her of a man.

The people in this city seem to have a particular fondness for barbecue skewers. Every evening, along the streets and alleys, there's always a row of barbecue skewer stalls, and the air is thick with the tempting, pungent smell of both real and fake grilled lamb. Most of the men and women eating skewers are drinking beer; the more refined ones sit at tables, while the less refined ones squat or sit on the curb, eating and drinking their fill.

A couple of days ago, it was Wednesday, she ordered some skewers on the street at the entrance of the alley. Just as she sat down at an empty table, a man came over and asked, "Are you alone? Can I sit here? Will I bother you?" What she found amusing was that this man was not tall and quite ordinary, but he spoke fluent phrases he had learned from television. If he were younger, it would be fine, but he looked to be in his forties, and the way he spoke was really grating to listen to.