Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 179

I stroked my chin and asked, "Is it a musical instrument? Or a house?"

The "nine-headed bird struggling for its life" pattern often unconsciously adds a tense and oppressive atmosphere to people's minds. I thought her feelings would come from the influence of the villa.

The lock clicked twice and opened easily, releasing a faint dampness. No explanation was needed; I understood that preserving cultural relics and antiques requires precisely controlled temperature and humidity to extend their lifespan, preventing fading and decay.

The room was empty except for a piano on a table covered in red velvet in the center.

“I’ve loosened all the tuning pegs, letting the strings rest. You know, without them, the sound that can stop the winds will never be the same.” She stopped at the doorway, cautiously looking around. Actually, every corner of the room was completely visible; there was nowhere to hide. A thin, rose-red ribbon was tied to the air conditioner vent, fluttering in the breeze. Aside from that, all was quiet.

The Fifth Undersea Mystery

— Chapter 9 — The Second Thousand-Year Imprisonment that Fujika Endured (Part 2) —

I walked toward the guqin, and she casually closed the door behind me with a very slight "click".

The guqin was placed at the bottom of the fluorescent light, and the white light reflected from the soundboard calmly projected onto the ceiling. The ancient seal in red ink for "Five Lakes" was indeed gone—"I used some materials from the 'disguise technique' to erase the writing. Furthermore, Da Xiang once used a mobile X-ray vision device to carefully probe its interior in square centimeter increments, but found nothing. To anyone, apart from its unusually clear sound, it did not exhibit any other strange features."

Gu Qingcheng stood across the table, arms crossed, head bowed, examining the guqin.

Suddenly, I felt the fluorescent light dim, as if something swept past beneath the tube, blocking its light for about a tenth of a second. Paranormal experts often say that the cold wavelength of light emitted by fluorescent lights is most likely to reveal heretical spirits, possessing a strange "revealing" effect.

I looked up and stared at the light tube.

"You saw it too?" Gu Qingcheng asked, slightly nervous, and habitually pushed up her glasses.

This room is located at the very tip of the two wings of the "Nine-Headed Bird's Fate-Struggling Formation," a place directly impacted by the most dangerous layout. It's left empty because I specifically asked Xiao Keleng to vacate it when Wang Jiangnan and his group moved into Xunfu Garden. Such an extremely inauspicious place is sure to kill anyone who lives there. In fact, Yelan's death was largely related to him staying in the room at the very top of the left wing. Although I haven't blamed Xiao Keleng for this, she should have sensed it.

“You shouldn’t have left the guqin here—” I sighed, as a chilling wind rose from all sides.

“I was wrong. In ancient times, when people played the zither deep in the mountains, mountain spirits and tree monsters would sneak up to listen and attach themselves to the strings. When you suddenly fainted, I didn’t have time to assess the situation before hastily setting up this temperature-controlled room. Mr. Feng, since Xunfu Garden Villa is your property, why did you set up such a bizarre ‘Nine-Headed Bird Fighting for Life’? Isn’t that deliberately putting yourself in a predicament?”

Gu Qingcheng took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the strings of the zither.

I have no explanation, because even I can't figure out my brother's intention when he built it. Or should we just tear it down in one go to find the answer?

"I want to use the 'blood-binding spirit' method to exorcise evil spirits, what do you think?" Her left little finger was pressed on the string of the zither, and with just a light touch, it would draw blood.

As the younger sister of Gu Zhijin, a renowned antique dealer in Hong Kong, she should be well-versed in certain exorcism techniques within this cult. Every priceless antique has changed hands dozens, even hundreds, of times over thousands of years. Peaceful transfers are rare; most are accompanied by robbery and murder. The original, kind-hearted collectors, after their unjust deaths, are haunted by vengeful spirits that merge with their beloved objects. Over time, the number of vengeful spirits accumulating on the antiques increases. When they finally reach the hands of antique dealers, they must undergo some kind of "exorcism" ritual to ensure their safety.

I shook my head: "Miss Gu, after you get this guqin, you will not keep it for yourself. Once you bleed, the original vengeful spirit will most likely stay by your side, which would be a loss."

Given her methods and cunning, the fact that she went to such lengths to acquire this guqin suggests she's plotting something far more ambitious than a musical or monetary transaction. It's clear she doesn't care about the money itself, but rather whether the deal can be successfully completed.

She frowned and thought for a moment, then raised her hand and nodded sincerely: "Yes, Mr. Feng is right, I was wrong again."

"Who? Who? Tengjia—" I suddenly sensed something and blurted out, but then realized my lapse in composure and quickly turned to Gu Qingcheng: "Miss Gu, please excuse me for a moment, or I can help you dispel the vengeful spirit on the zither." Some feelings are indescribable. I only knew that an extremely familiar shadow was gently landing on the side of the table. I couldn't see her, but I could smell her fragrance—the fragrance of "Bird of a Thousand Flowers" that I had been longing for since our first meeting in the Egyptian desert.

Gu Qingcheng hesitated for a moment, then gasped, "If I stay here, perhaps I can be of some help..."

I took a step back, flung open the door with a whoosh, stared at her face, and silently gave her the order to leave. At that moment, I dared not even be distracted, otherwise I might instantly lose all sense of whether Fujika was even there.

The courtyard remained quiet, a beautiful cloud formation appearing out of nowhere, obscuring even the starlight. On the watchtower, someone recklessly smoked, the flickering flame becoming the most conspicuous marker in the **night**. The Sharpshooter Society's men were increasingly resembling a rabble; I truly doubted how they could possibly be a match for the well-trained Yamaguchi-gumi.

With just the light of a cigarette butt, a skilled enemy sniper could kill this guy instantly from a distance of 800 meters to one kilometer. In today's world, the weak simply cannot survive; even a second of carelessness or relaxation could cost them their only life.

Gu Qingcheng lowered her head and walked out, but she was probably unwilling.

I closed the door again and gazed at the fluorescent light once more. The fragrance of "Thousand Flower Birds" grew stronger, and the strings of the harp were suddenly and gently plucked, producing a deep, resonant bass note. I couldn't hear any human voices, but my mind instantly picked up on a certain thought—it must be Fujika's thought—

"I have discovered once again that the soul is still immortal, still unable to reach the place where my master and the others exist. Why? I would rather die, to forget a thousand years of the past by ending the state of my soul's existence. No one wants to be imprisoned in a cicada's shell, that cramped, suffocating, tearless state is enough to drive the soul mad. Wind, can you hear me? I have been imprisoned once again, but this time it is in this ancient zither that has stood the test of thousands of years."

I nodded involuntarily to indicate that I had heard.

"If this is my destiny, then where does this destiny end? I have already endured a thousand years, witnessing the rise and fall of life and the martial world. Is another thousand years to come?"

That was indeed Fujika's thought. Although no one spoke, I could feel her presence.

"How can I help you?" I murmured, reaching out to touch her, but my fingertips only felt air.

"No, it seems like no one can help me, because even I don't know what the future holds... Wait, do you know what the highest note of life is? I vaguely realized the mission I'm imprisoned for this time—to play the 'highest note of life'? What does that mean?"

Her thoughts also reflected great confusion.

A soft buzzing vibration came from the air conditioner vent. Because the house was completely empty, I was able to concentrate without any distraction. She truly existed, but without a physical form visible to the naked eye, like the wind on Earth, moving everything yet remaining invisible.

My mind was shaken. I remembered what the Egyptian elder Sahan said: "The movement of the illusion demon forms the wind." Could the existence of the current vine be the same material form as the illusion demon?

She kept asking the same question: "What is the 'highest note of life'? What is the 'highest note of life'..." It was as if she was asking me, but more like she was asking herself.

The zither is still a zither, the strings are still strings, but where is her soul hidden? The tycoon has already thoroughly examined every part of the zither—I suddenly realized that our usual physical detection methods are only applicable to known types of matter on Earth. When encountering certain unknown things, these ray and infrared methods are absolutely irrelevant.

Are you inside the guqin? Has the guqin changed because it has been infused with your soul?

Her soul sighed: "Indeed, the guqin is made from trees, dragon whiskers, and animal bones. No matter how ornate the name you use, or how elaborate the fingering techniques you employ, it is still just an inanimate object. Music originates in the heart, resonates in the chest, reaches the limbs, and extends to the fingertips, ultimately appealing to the instrument—a musical instrument with a soul will produce exquisite beauty with every pluck; an instrument without a soul, even if played by a master, will only produce bland, tasteless noise. We must say goodbye. Where will you be a thousand years from now?"

Upon hearing this question, both my 'soul' and I burst into laughter. Before a hundred years have passed, I'll be soaring into the blue sky with the smoke from the refining furnace; what's the point of talking about a thousand years?

"The highest note of life..." Those were the last words left by Fujika. Then, the strings of the harp rippled like a surging tide, deafeningly loud, before abruptly stopping.

She disappeared, and the fluorescent lights above returned to their original bright and stable state. I suddenly felt utterly exhausted, and looking at the guqin again, a faint sense of reluctance welled up inside me. It could be seen as the embodiment of Tengjia; perhaps her "millennial imprisonment" was just an illusory concept, and under some twist of fate, she would reappear in the world…

With a loud "whoosh," Gu Qingcheng angrily flung open the door and leaped inside.

I raised my hands, smiling faintly, "I didn't touch it; the strings were playing by themselves." Even now, I still couldn't figure out Gu Qingcheng's thoughts. Where was she taking the guqin? And behind her and Gu Zhijin, who had such a deep interest in the guqin? I didn't know Gu Qingcheng, but I did know Gu Zhijin. How could a high-level antique collector like him, who used "music" as a pretext to make money everywhere, be swayed without a huge profit margin?

The Fifth Undersea Mystery

— Chapter 10 - Dismantling Xunfuyuan (Part 1) —

Gu Qingcheng carefully examined the guqin and finally felt relieved.

The chill from outside seeped in, gradually dispelling the dampness inside the room.

I noticed she was always holding the phone, and guessed that, given her efficiency, she must have already contacted the car that was coming to pick her up. In short, Gu Qingcheng left a very good impression on me, indirectly softening her brother's mercenary nature. Gu Zhijin is truly grateful to God for such a wonderful sister. "The appearance of a twenty-year-old, the composure of a thirty-year-old, and the demeanor of a forty-year-old"—that's my impression of Gu Qingcheng.

“Mr. Feng, the car will arrive in ten minutes. The plane tickets to Sapporo have been booked. Shall we part ways here?” She held up the guqin with both hands, skipping even the handshake at parting.

Watching her cautiously walk out the door, holding what seemed to be the most precious jade in the world, I couldn't help but think sadly, "Tengjia, existing in the form of a soul, is powerless to control her own destiny. Will she be trapped in sorrow every day?" After a brief respite, she will once again slowly enter the cycle of imprisonment, which must be an extremely tragic thing.

Compared to her, ordinary people can experience different and colorful births, aging, sickness, death, joys and sorrows every day in their hundred-year lifespan. They will eventually reach the point of being tired of life and leave this world at the right time. This can only be described as another kind of "luck".

The smoking sniper disappeared back into the darkness, but on the northwest watchtower, someone was singing softly, completely exposing his position.

Gu Qingcheng glanced around the watchtower and smiled leisurely: "The top-notch firepower of the American experts, combined with the disorganized defense of the Chinese masters, is like a 'Chinese hamburger' made by street vendors—a hodgepodge, utterly terrible, doesn't it, Mr. Feng?"

I don't know what Wang Jiangnan and Hawke's purpose was, but this loose defensive posture seems a bit excessive, practically playing with the lives of the Sharpshooter Brothers. I've already started considering whether to remove all the snipers exposed on high ground during the dismantling of the villa, and even demolish the watchtowers.

The Muwan Zhoushan area has few tall buildings and is mostly flat. Snipers can have a panoramic view from high places, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage, because the enemy can also include them in their scopes. The situation is almost equal for both sides, and the rest depends on luck and individual reaction ability.

“Mr. Feng, perhaps I’m too naive, but I don’t understand the meaning of this ‘Nine-Headed Bird Fighting for Fate’ formation. Chinese classical metaphysics is profound and extensive; could you perhaps offer some guidance?” She looked back and forth between the two wings of the main building several times, shaking her head repeatedly. Not only her, but even the Japanese fate hunter who had accompanied Watanabe Castle earlier understood this principle. Therefore, this absurdly laid-out house left almost every intelligent person who saw it utterly perplexed.

I avoided this deadlocked topic, took out the check, flashed it in front of her, and then tore it in half with a "rip." Gu Qingcheng was stunned, pulled the guqin closer to her chest, and bent over, like a startled cat, rubbing its hands together, ready to fight at any moment.

With two consecutive "sizzle, sizzle" sounds, the check broke into four pieces, then eight pieces, until it became a handful of useless scraps of paper in my hand.

"Mr. Feng, what are you doing? Are you trying to breach the contract?" Her reaction was indeed quick. She immediately scanned the watchtowers on all sides, while simultaneously supporting the guqin with her left arm, letting her right wrist drop, and spreading her fingers to insert them into the lining of her purse. In her haste, she even glanced at her wristwatch, presumably calculating the arrival time of reinforcements.

Judging from her reactions within a single second, she is a top-tier martial arts master. When she attacks with her right hand, it should be a four-pronged hidden weapon similar to a flying needle or dart; otherwise, she wouldn't have needed to spread her five fingers.

"I'm taking the zither. You can raise the price as you please." She still had a smile on her face, but it was a cold, indifferent one.

At the end of the road outside the gate, two car headlights flashed out at high speed, and within seconds the clear roar of engines could be heard.

"Empty-flipping is the most common thing in the antique business. Mr. Feng likes to play this game, and I'm interested in playing along."

With three loud swishing sounds, three doors on the first floor opened simultaneously, revealing Xiao Keleng and Xiao Yan, Wang Jiangnan and Xiao Lai, and Daheng and Guan Baoling standing in the doorways. Upon seeing the six people, Gu Qingcheng became even more alert, glancing sideways to the south, ready to flee at any moment.

Xiao Lai reacted extremely quickly, instantly drawing his gun, loading it, and pointing it at Gu Qingcheng's side.

The once peaceful villa instantly transformed into a tense standoff. Almost the instant Xiao Lai drew his gun, powerful searchlights blazed on the four watchtowers, beams of light cleaving through the darkness and illuminating Gu Qingcheng. One could easily imagine that behind those beams, the dark muzzles of sniper rifles would follow.

The seemingly loose and lax defensive posture is actually just a facade, a pretense to deceive the enemy.

Gu Qingcheng gave a cold laugh and simply turned to face the gate. The speeding car was about fifty paces from the gate when a rapid alarm sounded, and a gleaming steel gate quickly sealed the entrance. In the darkness, dozens of gun barrels were pointed at the car forced to brake abruptly. Especially on the roof of the main building, five powerful heavy machine guns suddenly appeared, firing in unison the crisp clanging of bullets.

This was a flawless sniping drill, and Gu Qingcheng unwittingly became the guinea pig who triggered the Bagua formation. Looking up at the machine gunner on the main building, she sighed helplessly, "Mr. Feng, you've won."

American counterterrorism experts are not just famous for nothing; otherwise, wouldn't the Pentagon be the world's biggest sucker, paying them high salaries every day? Clearly, Wang Jiangnan was very satisfied with the Sharpshooter Association's rapid response and led the applause, clapping a dozen times, but unfortunately, no one responded.

It's common knowledge that the reason they were able to form such a strong defensive formation was entirely due to Daheng's influence. When they were confronting each other in front of Fengge Temple, Wang Jiangnan's face had already been trampled underfoot by Daheng, and he would never be able to recover. So, making this move now was clearly a sign of flattery.

I tossed the scraps of paper into the trash can next to me and smiled frankly: "Miss Gu, you've misunderstood. I can give you the guqin, but I won't accept a penny. Please take your hands out; it's easy to hurt your fingers if you launch a hidden weapon without wearing deerskin gloves."

From her preparatory movements before launching the hidden weapon, I could deduce that the weapon must be very small and sharp, capable of replacing firearms and delivering a fatal blow.

Many experienced martial artists have said that when venturing into the martial world, the three types of people you should never mess with are the sick, women, and children. It is precisely because of their apparent weakness that they practice their skills more diligently and even resort to using poisoned hidden weapons in order to kill their enemies with a single blow.

Gu Qingcheng was stunned: "What? What..."

Before I sensed the presence of Fujika's soul, I was simply focused on getting the guqin out of Japan, preventing this Chinese treasure from falling into the hands of the imperial family, but I wouldn't donate it to any institution without compensation. After learning that Fujika's soul was imprisoned within the guqin, I became more concerned about who its ultimate owner would be, hoping it wouldn't fall into the hands of a vulgar and incompetent man. Therefore, I was willing to give it to Gu Qingcheng without taking a single penny, embodying the ancient principle of "giving beauty to a fair maiden and a fine sword to a valiant warrior."

I know this decision will be incomprehensible to others, and will surprise Gu Qingcheng even more.

"The check has been torn up, Miss Gu. You can now take your guqin with you on your journey. I wish you a safe trip." I gestured to Xiao Keleng, who looked completely bewildered. Although she was reluctant, she had no choice but to wave her hand, signaling the people on the watchtower to press the remote control switch and open the steel gate.

A car drove in from outside; it was the same taxi we had encountered before, with the last four digits of its license plate being "0191".

The tycoon snorted in dissatisfaction: "Feng, you're quite generous to Miss Gu—" Regardless of his intentions, he wanted to keep the guqin, but with my offer of it, he had no way to interfere.

Gu Qingcheng slowly withdrew her right hand, hugged the guqin tightly again, still half-believing, half-doubting: "Really? I never expected this ending. Mr. Feng, perhaps you should reconsider. It's alright if the check is torn up; you can call me anytime. Our agreement is still valid..."

Eight million pounds is a huge sum that is out of reach for low- and middle-income people in Hong Kong Island. She would never believe that I could just give up like that.

The young driver, wearing a white down jacket and a white baseball cap, opened the car door. Gu Qingcheng stepped into the car as if in a daze, clutching her guqin tightly. The thought of Teng Ying's soul being embedded in the guqin, to be carried away by the unsuspecting Gu Qingcheng, suddenly filled me with an overwhelming sense of sorrow. From the time I met her to her soul reappearing just ten minutes ago, only a few months had passed. She had changed so much, her identity shifting again and again, until finally, with a profound realization, her soul left her body.

"What will the future hold? Will I ever see her again?" It was unclear whether "her" referred to Gu Qingcheng or Teng Jia, but an inescapable sadness lingered in her mind.

Throughout the entire process, Guan Baoling did not utter a single word. She simply stood firmly beside the tycoon, her arm linked with his, graceful and elegant.

Gu Qingcheng closed the car door and tentatively asked, "Mr. Feng, shall I take my leave?"

I waved goodbye, and the taxi immediately turned around, its engine roaring as it sped out the gate. Gu Qingcheng had completed her task and should be satisfied. Next, I needed to deal with my own problems and boldly take action against Xunfuyuan.

As it approached midnight, the wind was cold and the frost was heavy. When I turned to walk towards the hall, I saw the teeth marks on Guan Baoling's neck again. There was another one, clearly marked as if carved by a knife or axe.

No one offered an opinion, and no one asked any questions. I could sense that Xiao Ke's gaze towards me was growing increasingly confused and distant. Perhaps in her mind, I tore up the check simply to please Gu Qingcheng, a man's instinctive reaction to a pretty girl's confession, like a peacock spreading its beautiful tail during courtship.

Not every wealthy person has the courage to tear up an eight million pound cheque, and even tycoons might not have the magnanimity. They don't understand that the guqin's value suddenly increased because it had absorbed Tengjia's soul; selling it for money would be tantamount to selling Tengjia, something I simply cannot accept.

I entered the hall, and the people outside showed no intention of following me in; they simply stood there silently watching, and the atmosphere in the courtyard suddenly became awkward. I closed the door behind me, shutting out all the questioning gazes.

The hall fell silent suddenly, the fire in the fireplace was dying down, with only occasional sparks flying out.

I looked up at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, walked step by step to the fireplace, and reached out to touch the bronze statue above it. Since entering Xunfu Garden, the twists and turns of events have been like a fast-paced replay of a long TV drama, one wave after another, rolling and tumbling all the way to where we are now.

There was no sound of bubbles; all the strange occurrences vanished with the battle and death at Fengge Temple. Remembering how I'd moved the sofa in the middle of the night, making a mess of the living room because of some inexplicable sound, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself: "Wasn't it all because of Guan Baoling? If it weren't for her late-night visits, how could so many stories have unfolded?"

In any case, when I think of her, all that comes to mind is an unforgettable, bittersweet feeling.