Événements étranges dans la chambre 202

Chapitre 17

"Are you the missing person?" I interrupted him. I looked at Ye Xiao again, and he shook his head at me, gesturing for me to be quiet.

"You actually knew?"

"I know some things, but not all of them. Don't worry about whether we know them or not, just tell us the truth," Ye Xiao said.

"At the time, we went down into the basement to 'make revolution,' and we found a naked female corpse lying there. We were terrified, wrote some slogans, and left. The next day, we discovered that one of us had committed suicide. Another man, Zhang Hongjun, told us that they had touched that woman the night before. Unexpectedly, Zhang Hongjun committed suicide early the next morning. We found this very strange, so we went down into the basement again to investigate. In the basement, we faced the woman again, but this time we weren't afraid. Although two people had died, we couldn't figure out what their deaths had to do with this woman. She was very beautiful, possessing a special charm. We had never seen a woman's body before..." We couldn't help but touch her body and skin, but that was all. That night, after we came out of the basement, one of us, Mu Jianguo, went berserk and ran towards a large truck speeding down Nanhu Road. The driver couldn't brake in time, and Mu Jianguo was killed. Later that night, after returning home, Wu Yingxiong and Zhang Nanju committed suicide. The following night and early morning, Xin Xiong and Feng Kangmei also committed suicide. In just two nights, five of us died. The remaining six of us were terrified. We began to realize that it must be related to the woman in the basement. Someone mentioned that the woman was a monster and had cast a curse on us, even though we Red Guards were saying we were eliminating the Four Olds. We started to believe in such things, so we decided to cut off the woman's head to eliminate her. We went down to the basement and used a wood saw to cut off the woman's head. Looking back now, it's truly terrifying, a nightmare. What's even more terrifying is that the woman bled a lot, and we were all covered in blood. We were terrified; seeing the blood, seeing that beautiful woman's head roll off her neck, made us feel nauseous. We left the woman's head in the basement and went home. Three days and two nights passed without incident, and we thought the nightmare was over. But on the morning of the fourth day, I discovered that Fan De, Cheng... Xu An, Luo Kangming, Chen Xilong, and the other two had all committed suicide in the short span of one night. I was terrified; only two of us were left: Huang Donghai and me. I believed that tonight, we would die too. So we went back down to the basement. The woman's body and head lay on the floor, a gruesome sight. We decided that we would each take the woman's head and body and flee far away. I would take her body, and Huang Donghai would take her head. I put her body into a large woven bag, boarded a boat, left Shanghai, and arrived in northern Jiangsu. Huang Donghai, however, took the woman's head and left. I don't know where he went; I never saw him again. He took a deep breath, looking very distressed.

Ye Xiao and I exchanged a glance; his face was also filled with surprise. I continued to ask Li Hongqi, "What happened next? And what about Xiangxiang?"

"I survived, wandering in northern Jiangsu for several years, carrying that woman's body. Later, I came here and worked as a cremator at a funeral home. I lived in anonymity, afraid to go home. I always hid the headless woman under the bed in this room. I was astonished to find that the woman hadn't decomposed; her body was still perfectly intact, just as when I first saw her—it was a miracle. I gradually sensed that this woman was extraordinary. For thirty years, strange things kept happening around me. I often dreamed of an underground environment, a long tunnel leading to a dark, large room. In the middle, there were two huge coffins. The first coffin contained a skeleton, and the second contained that woman. Whenever I slept in this bed, I could feel someone speaking to me through my mind—a woman's voice, repeatedly saying four words: 'Give me back my head.' I knew it was her; she had a strong desire to get her lost head back. One day several years ago, at the funeral home..." I saw the drowned girl there. She was beautiful, with a lovely fragrance, absolutely perfect. A wicked thought suddenly occurred to me, but my intuition told me it could succeed. So I told the girl's parents, preparing them. Then, on the day of the cremation, I was alone in the crematorium. I sawed off the girl's head. Then I cremated her body, and secretly took her head home, placing it on the woman's body. I felt her body and the recently deceased girl's head were quite a good match; at least they were about the same age. The next morning, I woke up to find her gone. Both the headless woman and the girl's head had vanished without a trace. I thought, I must have succeeded. I gave her a complete head. Perhaps, after receiving her head, she would disappear from my life, and those terrible things would never happen again.

Honestly, after hearing all this, I felt like throwing up. I pictured Xiangxiang's head being sawed off her body. If Ye Xiao hadn't been holding me back, I would have really wanted to beat him up.

Li Hongqi continued, "But I was wrong. One day last year, she came back. The face of the girl who had drowned appeared before me, and there was still a fragrance. Yes, it was her. And her height, her figure, were exactly the same as that mysterious woman's body. She was resurrected, truly resurrected, resurrected with another girl's head. I was terrified. She looked at me without saying a word, and then left. That very night, I went blind. I couldn't see anything, and the hospital couldn't find the cause. I reaped what I sowed. I thought of those Red Guards who died back then. We were just children then. Now, she has returned to the world. What will happen next? I dare not imagine."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, I have told you everything. I know I am guilty."

“You are guilty. You took Xiangxiang—” I grabbed his collar. Ye Xiao pulled me back, “That’s enough, he has already been punished. Let’s go.”

I let go of his hand and left the cramped room. Before leaving, I deliberately looked back at his bed. The headless woman must have been Empress Alute of the Tongzhi Emperor, who had lain under this bed for many years. Li Hongqi, meanwhile, closed his blind eyes and buried his head in his knees.

As night was falling, we boarded the last long-distance bus back to Shanghai.

The sunset over the Yangtze River estuary was magnificent, but my heart was filled with—her.

Because of fear.

February 23

During these past few days and nights, I've often had hallucinations. Whenever I close my eyes, I feel that eye watching me. In the past, my room was always completely dark when I slept, but now I always sleep with a wall lamp on because I have that feeling, a strong feeling, that the eye is watching me, that she's right beside me, ready to grab my hand at any moment.

Now I finally understand. The Xiangxiang I've seen these past few days, or rather, Rose, is actually the Empress. Because of Li Hongqi's heinous act, her head is Xiangxiang's, but her body is her own. I know that no one but Ye Xiao would believe this, and even I hoped it was just a dream. But everything that's happened these past few days feels too real. We've been desperately searching for "her," but we never imagined that she was right beside me from the beginning, smiling at me, making me fantasize, making me think of what happened that night in her rented room. My God, what did I do? I thought it was Xiangxiang, Xiangxiang's body. I thought I had finally obtained Xiangxiang and her body. In reality, Xiangxiang's body had long since turned to ashes. In fact, what I obtained was the Empress's body! I should have realized it sooner—that night, when her body was laid bare before me, I saw that faint pink scar on her abdomen, the one left by the tomb robbers who cut open her stomach. I was so foolish back then, I didn't even think of that! I dared not think any further. I hoped it was just a nightmare. Suddenly, I felt a chill run through my body. What had I done? She—she had been buried over a hundred years ago, and almost everyone who had touched her was dead. Now, I had her completely, inside and out. What was I? The Queen's lover? Perhaps such an unbelievable plot would be very romantic in novels, but for me now, it undoubtedly plunged me into an abyss of fear.

Maybe I'll end up like those who touched her?

Death is very close to me.

I'm very scared.

It was afternoon when Ye Xiao called. We met outside, and Ye Xiao said, "I checked Huang Donghai's household registration information again today. The key now is him. Only he and Li Hongqi survived. Li Hongqi took the Empress's body, and Huang Donghai took the Empress's head. The phrase 'Give me back my head' undoubtedly refers to the head that Huang Donghai took."

"Yes, finding the Queen's missing head might be our only chance." I felt like a drowning person grasping at a straw.

"Let's go check on Huang Donghai's home now. His family hasn't moved. I've heard that many people who are registered as missing or deregistered still have some kind of connection with their families. Maybe we can try our luck."

We arrived at a residential area in an industrial zone in Zhabei. The surrounding air was gloomy, casting a gray shadow over our mood. We climbed the dirty stairs of a blue-green apartment building and knocked on the door of an apartment on the fourth floor.

There were only two elderly people in their seventies or eighties living in the house. The house was very simple and had nothing.

"Are you Huang Donghai's parents?"

Where are you from?

Ye Xiao said, "I'm from the Public Security Bureau."

"The Public Security Bureau? Could it be that there's news about our Donghai? Comrade, is that right?" The old man grabbed Ye Xiao's hand tightly, his eyes, heavy with bags, gleaming with a murky light.

"No, we're here to investigate some aspects of his situation."

"Has he done something bad?" The old man was still very concerned. Judging from his eyes, I felt that he really didn't know where his son was.

"No, sir, I'm just doing some research."

"Donghai disappeared in the first year of the Cultural Revolution. That year, he joined the Red Guards and went out to 'make revolution' every day. Later, we noticed that something was wrong with him. He kept saying incoherent things and seemed very scared, always on edge. Suddenly one day, he brought a tin box home. We wanted to see what was inside, but he refused. Instead, he asked us for some national grain coupons and some money. The next day, he left home and never came back. More than 30 years have passed, and even now, my wife and I dream of him coming home. He is our only son." As they spoke, the two old people shed tears, completely disregarding the two young people, Ye Xiao and me.

"Then can we see his old photos?" I suddenly asked.

The old man's hands trembled as he pulled a photo album from a cabinet, saying, "Donghai was a good boy, he never did anything wrong. Comrade, if you have any news about him, please let us know." He took out a photo and handed it to me, "Look, this photo was taken a few months before he disappeared. What a handsome boy he was."

Yes, the photo shows a sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy with a thin face and bright eyes; he is indeed very handsome. The background of the photo is several buildings on the Bund. I examined the photo carefully and felt that the face in the photo was somewhat familiar. Where had I seen him before? I frowned and searched my memory.

"Young comrade, is something wrong?" the old man asked me with concern.

"No, no, there's nothing wrong with it." I looked at the photo again carefully, memorizing that face. Then I returned the photo to the old man and said goodbye to the two elderly people.

Once outside the building, Ye Xiao asked with a serious expression, "Do you believe what he said?"

"believe."

"I also believe that if Huang Donghai really can't be found, maybe we have no hope left." Ye Xiao put his hand on my shoulder. "Come live with me, I'm afraid you—"

"Afraid I'll end up like those who commit suicide? No, I want to test my willpower, even if it costs me my life."

Ye Xiao patted my shoulder again: "Take care of yourself. I'm leaving now. Go home by yourself. Call me if you need anything." Then, he disappeared into the night.

I'm wandering alone on the streets of Shanghai at night. The air is stale. I hug my shoulders and slowly stroll through the streets. The photo of Huang Donghai keeps flashing in and out of my mind—those eyebrows, those eyes. A fog has rolled down my spine. The night wind blows, and I start to shiver. Huang Yun—I suddenly think of her. Those eyes, so bright, her thin face. Huang Yun, why am I thinking of her? I thought I was going to forget her. These past few days, I've been thinking about Xiangxiang and the Empress, and Huang Yun—she almost got married to me, yet I've almost forgotten her. I feel a deep sense of guilt.

And now, under the pale moonlight, I seem to see her face, that face, and Huang Haidong's face. I finally remember, thank goodness for my memory—on the day I went to Huang Yun's house to find her, after I discovered she had left me forever, I saw that small framed picture in her house. Inside the small frame was a photograph of a young man; those eyes, that face, I still remember them vividly, because he was a handsome yet melancholic man, very captivating. Yes, I can now be certain that the young man in that photograph is the same person as the Huang Haidong photograph I saw today. There's no mistake; although one is sixteen or seventeen and the other is in his twenties, the changes are not significant. The facial features are still those of a uniquely handsome boy, especially his temperament, which no one else could replicate.

I remember Huang Yun's mother telling me that the man in the photo was Huang Yun's biological father.

I quickened my pace and rushed into the vast darkness of the night.

February 24th

The sky was still overcast, and I knew I was racing against time. I walked alone into the alleyway squeezed between office buildings, pushed open the door of the shikumen house, and climbed the steep stairs. I knocked on the door, and Huang Yun's mother opened it for me.

"Why is it you?"

"Excuse me, Auntie, there are some things I'd like to ask you."

"Come in quickly." I entered the room. Huang Yun's black and white photo was hanging there, and she was still smiling at me. Then, I saw the photo of a young man on the dressing table. That melancholy, thin, and handsome face was unique; it was definitely him—Huang Donghai. I couldn't be mistaken.

"Huang Yun has been gone for a whole month. Are you here to offer incense?" she said calmly.

A month? Yes, Huang Yun died after staying up all night on New Year's Eve, and it's been exactly a month since then. She's only been gone from this world for a month, and I've almost forgotten her. I can't bear to look at her picture anymore. I bowed my head and offered her an incense stick. Then I turned to look at Huang Yun's mother. I could tell that she must have been a beautiful woman like Huang Yun when she was young, with graceful figure, but she had an affair. Now, she looks much older.

"Auntie, actually I came for another reason. I know these questions may be very sensitive for you and inconvenient to answer, but they are very important questions. I want to know if Huang Yun's biological father is named Huang Donghai?"

"Yes, how did you know?" She seemed very surprised. Actually, I also felt that I was quite lucky. I originally thought that Huang Donghai should have changed his name after he disappeared, but it seems that he did not.

“Auntie, I don’t want to pry into other people’s privacy, but I can tell you that Huang Yun’s death is very likely related to him.”

"He killed his own daughter?"

"No, but there is an indirect relationship. Please believe me, it's not something I can explain in a short time. Maybe I'll explain it to you later. I just want to know Huang Donghai's situation, all the details. Please tell me as much as you know."

"Do I have to tell you everything?"

I knew there were some things she wouldn't tell me. I was old enough to be her son, and it was really inappropriate to ask about her past romantic affairs. I could only make some concessions: "Auntie, I understand you're in a difficult position. Okay, then, you don't need to talk about things you consider purely private, but please tell me about Huang Donghai. Please." I said almost in a low voice.

To my surprise, she said calmly, "It's all in the past, it doesn't matter if I tell you." She looked at her daughter's portrait, smiled at Huang Yun in the photo, and then smiled at me, very naturally, as if Huang Yun were still in front of her. I felt that she was truly an extraordinary woman.

Then, she slowly recounted: "That was in 1976. My parents had long been labeled as rightists and sent to the interior for re-education, leaving me alone at home. At that time, I neither went to the countryside to settle down nor worked in a factory. After graduating from junior high school, I joined the production team of the neighborhood committee. You weren't even born then, so you wouldn't understand what a production team was. Back then, it was nothing more than pasting matchboxes and binding paper—very hard work. One day, a young man came to the production team. His name was Huang Haidong. Nobody knew where he came from, because it was a production team, and nobody cared. He rarely spoke to anyone, but he was willing to do any kind of work. Most of the people in the production team were women." We were happy to let him do the heavy and dirty work. Every night he slept in the production team's small warehouse, a drafty little room facing the road, damp and cold. It was winter, and you'd practically freeze to death there overnight. So, I took pity on him and let him move into my house. For a few days, I was the only one living in the entire Shikumen house. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was looking, he stayed at my house for a few days. He always carried a tin box with him, locked with an iron lock, and never let me touch it. Suddenly one night, it was very cold, and he quietly took the box and went out. I was very curious, so I ran to the window. Look, it's this window! Looking down from this window, you can see the courtyard of the Shikumen house.

I walked to the window and looked down. Sure enough, apart from the central passageway, the courtyard was surrounded by muddy ground planted with many ordinary flowers and plants.

Huang Yun's mother continued, "That night, I looked out this window and saw a person in the courtyard, digging a hole in the ground with something that looked like a shovel. I was surprised because the moonlight was exceptionally bright that night. The person looked around, and I saw his face. In the clear moonlight, I could clearly see that it was Huang Donghai's face. Beside him was the tin box he treasured. I held my breath and secretly watched from the window. He didn't seem to notice me. He kept digging diligently for several hours, creating a very deep hole, about the depth of a person. Finally, he buried the tin box in the hole and covered it completely with the excavated soil, making it so that there was no trace of digging. Then, he walked out the door. I thought he was just going for a walk, but I never expected that he would never come back. Nine months later, Huang Yun was born. More than twenty years have passed, and I have never seen him again, nor have I heard any news of him."

I understand she omitted many details, such as her relationship with Huang Donghai. Was she only letting him stay here out of pity? Perhaps only she knows the answer. I looked again at the photo of Huang Donghai on the dressing table. He certainly attracts women, especially with his melancholy; perhaps it does evoke their sympathy and pity. Of course, let her keep those ambiguous and sensitive matters to herself. I don't need to know them. For me, I already know the most important things.

I leaned my head against the window again, from where I could see the gleaming glass curtain walls of several upscale office buildings not far away. I pointed to the courtyard below and said, "Auntie, has no one moved anything in the courtyard below?"

"No one has touched it. Back in the 80s, the people downstairs planted a lot of flowers on these muddy grounds. Look, these are in the courtyard. In the summer, the area below is all green. If I remember correctly, the exact location where Huang Donghai buried that box was under the biggest and tallest camellia tree. Look, it's the one that's currently in bloom."

I looked into the courtyard and indeed there was a tall, large camellia. My father used to grow a similarly tall camellia, just like this one, which blooms in early spring. It must be in full bloom now, a riot of colors. Just then, I saw a middle-aged man walk into the courtyard and water the flowers. When I was little, we lived on the ground floor and also had a small mud pot in the courtyard to grow grapes. It wasn't very deep, only a few dozen centimeters underground. Huang Yun's mother had just said that the pit Huang Donghai dug downstairs that night was more than a meter deep. If the people downstairs were growing flowers, they probably wouldn't have dug that deep, and they wouldn't have discovered the tin box Huang Donghai buried so deep underground. I thought for a while, then leaned against the window, staring blankly at the courtyard below.

"What's wrong?" Huang Yun's mother called out to me.

"Oh, it's nothing."

"I've said everything I can say. You can go back now."

I hummed in agreement, said goodbye, took one last look at Huang Yun's portrait, and slowly moved to the door. Just as I was about to step out, Huang Yun's mother said behind me, "The door to the courtyard downstairs is never locked every night. The family that grows flowers downstairs goes to sleep around 10:30."

I turned back and smiled at her. Then I walked down the steep stairs. She was truly an incredibly clever woman; she had already understood my thoughts. The door downstairs wasn't locked at night, which meant I could come in. The people downstairs who grew flowers went to bed after 10:30, which meant it was best not to come and dig up the box buried under the mud before 10:00, lest someone discover it. I thanked her silently in my heart.

It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and I'm wandering outside, my mind filled with that tin box buried in the courtyard. Heaven knows what's inside. Maybe it's a large sum of money, though back then it probably wouldn't amount to much today. Maybe it's gold, maybe it's some confidential documents, maybe it's even the Queen's head.

Maybe there's nothing at all.

If what Huang Yun's mother said is true, then this box has been underground for over twenty years. Who can guarantee that no one has touched that land in those twenty years? To be honest, it's a miracle that that Shikumen alleyway was preserved in the gap between high-rise buildings. If, if the box really contains the Empress's head, then it must be extremely fortunate that the place wasn't razed to the ground and replaced by high-rise buildings like the surrounding area.

I ate dinner outside, then went to a nearby construction site and bought a shovel from a migrant worker for twenty yuan. I then waited quietly in a small corner for several hours until my watch hands pointed to 10:30 p.m.

I gripped the shovel and walked into the dark alleyway, looking rather odd, like a construction worker or a laborer on a renovation team. The alleyway was desolate after 10:30; there were hardly any people. I reached the stone gate, gently pushed open the slightly ajar door, and stepped into the courtyard. All the lights on the ground floor were off, and so were those upstairs. I didn't know if Huang Yun's mother was watching me, but I couldn't care less. I found the blooming camellia. Although the daytime was overcast, the moonlight was bright at night. I looked at the vibrant camellia, also called a datura flower, so bright and beautiful, perhaps because a woman's head was buried beneath it.

"I'm sorry, beautiful camellia," I said, picking up my shovel and digging into the soil beneath the flower branch. I dared not dig too hard, lest the sleeping residents on the ground floor hear me. But who knew if they were asleep or not? I had to take the risk. After a few digs, I quickly severed the camellia's roots. The beautiful flowers shook violently, red petals fluttering down, finally falling into the soil along with the broken branch, like the remains of a beautiful woman. I sighed softly and continued digging, stepping on the petals. I had never done anything like this before, my movements were clumsy, and I was afraid to make any noise. Before long, I was covered in sweat.

Under the silvery moonlight, I continued wielding my shovel, like a seasoned tomb raider excavating an ancient tomb. I had a premonition that I was getting closer and closer to her. I was somewhat afraid, but the sweat on my back temporarily eased the fear and unease it caused. My shovel sank deep into the soil, the black earth very soft, so I dug faster and faster, perhaps because this area had been dug by Huang Haidong. I imagined Huang Haidong digging a pit and burying a coffin here more than twenty years ago, and now I was about to dig up what he had buried. His uniquely melancholic face reappeared before me, and my hands began to tremble.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally dug to a depth large enough for one person to fit in. Thankfully, I didn't see any groundwater. In Shanghai, groundwater is usually present at this depth. I jumped into the pit I had dug, feeling like I was being buried alive in a grave, because I could feel something in the soil beneath my feet. I bent down and dug with my hands in the cramped space. I felt it—I felt a piece of metal in the soil, sheet metal. I continued digging and poking with my fingers until they were almost numb. Finally, I unearthed a box, a cold sheet metal box.

I gripped the box tightly, as if it were my life. The cold metal calmed my feverish body. I lifted the box above my head and placed it on the ground, then climbed out of the pit. I touched the box I had dug out of the ground; the earthy scent wafted into my nostrils, circulating and enveloping my body. If I were a tomb raider, I would think this was the treasure I had stolen, if it truly contained what I needed. I saw an iron lock on the lid; I knew I couldn't open it yet.

The moonlight was still bright. I looked up at the upstairs window; perhaps she was watching me. Whether she saw me or not, I bowed towards the window. Then I dropped the shovel, picked up the tin box, pushed open the door, and went outside. Tomorrow morning, the people who grow flowers downstairs will be surprised to find a large crater in the ground, their beautiful camellias ruined. They might think some madman did it.

As I walked out of the alley, I realized I was covered in mud and carrying a tin box. If I ran into a patrolman, he took me to the police station, opened the box, and found a human head inside, I was doomed. I walked down a deserted alley home, too afraid to hail a taxi. The surging night and the bright moonlight accompanied my terrified face.

February 25th

Walking under the moonlight, I finally returned home with the tin box I had dug out from underground. I took several deep breaths and looked at my watch; it was already 1:30 a.m.

I sat down, and although it was the dead of night, I wasn't sleepy at all. I looked at the tin box; dirt had stained my floor, but I didn't care. I rummaged through the drawers and pulled out some tools like hammers, pliers, and wrenches. Then I looked at the padlock on the box and started using wire cutters to pry it open, then used the hammer and wrench together. It took a lot of effort, and the padlock was rusty from all those years, but I finally opened it.

The moment the lock broke, my hands suddenly went limp. I calmed my racing heart and slowly opened the box.

she.

I saw a face.

A strange woman's face, a woman in her early twenties, or more precisely, a woman's head.

My hands trembled as I reached into the box and carefully cradled her head. She had snow-white skin and long, flowing black hair. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene and peaceful. I could no longer describe her in words. I could only say that she was beautiful, simply beautiful. No other adjective could accurately capture her beauty.

Her beauty surpassed that of Xiangxiang, Huang Yun, and all known women.

She was the empress.

The empress of the Tongzhi Emperor, a woman who died in 1876.