Женский труп, завернутый в ткань, лежал в шкафу

Глава 25

"Okay, I'm willing to hang it in this room."

"Then steal it—no, take it! Hurry up and go!"

"Don't worry, I'll go back and get it later tonight..."

The following evening, on her birthday, Wu Bingbing had already hung the oil painting, "Woman Practicing Yoga," on the wall of her bedroom.

After dark, Wu Bingbing playfully pushed her parents outside, saying she wanted to celebrate her birthday alone. She brought the birthday cake to her bedroom and placed it on the coffee table in the middle of the sofa, where there were also fruits, snacks, and several small dishes. The snacks were prepared in advance by her mother, and her father had also bought her a bouquet of flowers beforehand. The two bottles of rice wine from yesterday were also on the coffee table.

As the candles on the cake were lit, Jiang Lan gazed at the candlelight and sighed deeply.

"You touched me so much. I've never celebrated my birthday before, nor have I ever attended someone else's birthday party."

You invited only myself, which made me incredibly excited and happy. You were celebrating your own birthday, and also my birthday, a celebration for my heart to be reborn within you… Of course, it hasn't even been a year yet. I will be with you from now on, celebrating every birthday with you, until this heart grows old and stops beating…

Wu Bingbing closed her eyes and made a wish. After she finished, she said, "Will you sing me a birthday song?"

Jiang Lan agreed and started singing along, her voice high-pitched and indistinct, but no one could understand a word she sang.

She sang and danced, swaying back and forth in the candlelight, which was quite terrifying.

Bingbing asked her what she was singing. She stared into Bingbing's eyes and said, "I'm wishing you a happy birthday!"

Before she could blow out the candles, Jiang Lan flicked her sleeve and extinguished them all on the cake. Although it was only dark for a moment, Wu Bingbing saw that Jiang Lan's eyes were still glowing green. She quickly said, "I want to light two candles so we can eat and drink slowly by candlelight; that's much more romantic!"

As the candles were lit, Bingbing pulled a knife from under the table, causing Jiang Lan to involuntarily take a step back.

Bingbing said, "Let me cut the cake for you," and handed her a slice of cake. Jiang Lan sniffed the cake, then threw it on the coffee table, saying, "Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey! It stinks!"

I don't eat this vulgar stuff. I eat human hearts, livers, and lungs; those are the real delicacies. Bingbing felt nauseous upon hearing this.

As they sat down facing each other, Bingbing picked up the rice wine beside the coffee table and said, "Shall we have a drink?" Jiang Lan replied, "I can drink some, but this wine, like the cake, is made from grains. My empty stomach can't handle it." Bingbing said, "How do you know you can't if you haven't tried? Maybe you could drink the whole bottle!"

She then opened a bottle of wine and filled the two large glasses in front of her to the brim.

Jiang Lan smelled the wine, pushed her glass away, and said, "This wine is too strong! I prefer wine. I drank wine often in Portugal. It reminded me of many things, of Madeira—it's simply paradise, filled with the intoxicating aroma of wine. Do you know Madeira?"

"Madera? Oh, so people there can drink alcohol now? —Would you like to have this?"

"No rush. Madeira is a small island 800 kilometers from Lisbon, the capital of Portugal. Although few people know about it, its wine is world-famous—Martell. Yes, it truly is paradise: azure seas, abundant sunshine, endless fruits, inexhaustible wines, and countless beautiful beaches and stunning women… Europeans, Brazilians from South America, and people from southern Africa all love to travel there. Many tourists love to stay at the Palace of the Redeem Hotel because there's a ghostly dinner there every day—"

"What ghost banquet? What's going on?"

"Of course you don't know. That's because... many tragedies have happened in the town, and many people have died in the restaurant, including dignitaries and beautiful young women. You can imagine, such a nice place, those who have died there wouldn't want to leave. So, the Red Palace is full of ghost stories. Mysterious ghosts often sweep through the silent corridors like the wind, leaving behind whispers and laughter on the stairs. Almost every employee in the hotel has seen ghosts. The clever hotel owner developed it into a tourist attraction, holding a ghost dinner every day—having all the employees and tourists dine together wearing various legendary ghost masks, with real ghosts mixed in when they come. No one knows who among their diners is a tourist, who is an employee, and who is a ghost, it's very interesting and exciting. For a few days, I wore a countess mask, she was murdered by her husband. There was also a woman wearing the same mask who always approached me, sitting in front of me at every dinner. Later I found out she was a ghost, the deceased countess had come..."

"How interesting! A ghost banquet? I like that term... Tonight, we, humans and ghosts, from different realms, are having dinner together. Shouldn't this be called a ghost banquet? That would be wonderful. Listen to me," Wu Bingbing stared at Jiang Lan, raising two large glasses of wine in both hands. "Since it's a ghost banquet, and I've only invited you to keep me company, then you have to drink. Drink these two glasses, and I'll listen to you from now on! Please, drink!"

Jiang Lan saw the wine glass brought close to her face, took it, and drank a sip. She immediately spat it out, exclaiming, "What kind of wine is this? It's as hot as fire! It's burning my tongue!"

"This is definitely not good wine." Wu Bingbing suddenly stood up and splashed two glasses of wine on Jiang Lan. "Bastard! You've been tricked, this is industrial alcohol!" Then, she grabbed a burning candle and threw it at Jiang Lan. A ball of fire erupted. Jiang Lan screamed, "Why? Why?—"

Wu Bingbing then deliberately swung the bottle at Jiang Lan, pouring the remaining alcohol onto her burning body. Jiang Lan was engulfed in flames, jumping around the room in agony. Suddenly, a flash of fire appeared, like a comet with a tail, and she leaped into the painting. White smoke billowed from the painting.

Wu Bingbing had already picked up another bottle, which contained the gasoline she had siphoned from her father's car the day before. She quickly ran to the painting and poured the full bottle of gasoline onto it. The white smoke that hadn't yet died down in the painting instantly turned into red flames, roaring and spewing flames outwards. The flames formed a huge vortex, like the gaping maw of a fire dragon, inside which Jiang Lan was struggling in agony.

Suddenly, Jiang Lan split into two bodies in the firelight. She threw one body into the fire, while the other body sprang out and rushed towards Wu Bingbing. In the blink of an eye, she disappeared.

Wu Bingbing knew that part of Jiang Lan's soul had tried to escape again, possessing her body. She sensed this in her heart. Without the slightest panic, as if fully prepared, she picked up the cake knife in front of her, pulled open her collar, and stabbed herself in the chest… Instantly, a horrific scream erupted from within. Jiang Lan burst out of her body again. This time, Jiang Lan had become a small, transparent figure. She clutched her chest in pain, jumping up and down, staring at Wu Bingbing's bleeding chest, screaming, "Why? Why? Why did you do this?!"

Wu Bingbing calmly replied, "Because I don't want to be a murderous monster, I don't!..."

As she watched Jiang Lan slowly collapse in front of her, an unprecedented sense of relief appeared on her face.

"Didn't you say—I'd been manipulated by you my whole life? Now, I don't want your heart anymore—you can't live anyway—you have nowhere to go. I won't kill for you anymore—it's all over—"

Wu Bingbing's voice grew weaker and weaker, while Jiang Lan in front of her had already collapsed to the ground.

With her last ounce of strength, Wu Bingbing pressed the knife deep into her heart... then collapsed into a pool of blood. Jiang Lan, on the other hand, shrank like a wisp of smoke, growing smaller and smaller, dissipating until she gradually disappeared...

Because of the fire and smoke coming from the room, nearby residents called the police, and fire trucks arrived. The fire was quickly extinguished. Meanwhile, firefighters carried Wu Bingbing out of the house. She was clearly already dead…

Everything in her bedroom was burned; even the wallpaper cracked. Where oil paintings had once hung on the wall, only a copper wire remained, holding a half-burnt piece of charcoal ash…

end

The burned painting miraculously reappears; could the dead friend be brought back to life?

Jiang Lan vanished. Southern City E returned to its former peace, free from sudden retaliation and hunts, from inexplicable disappearances and deaths…

Wu Bingbing's parents moved out of their old apartment and into the house left behind by Bingbing's maternal grandmother in the countryside. Their daughter's death brought them deep sorrow and despair; they didn't want to face that familiar room every day, reminiscing and shedding tears. They didn't sell the house either, but instead sealed the door; they did this to reserve space for their beloved daughter. Since their daughter's death, her mother has been frequently ill due to excessive grief; her father quit his job to stay in the countryside and care for his wife.

Two months later, Zhang Qun published her novel, *Heart Transplant*, based on Jiang Lan's experiences. The book's publication didn't bring her much joy; every time she read it, she thought of Wu Bingbing and felt sorrow for her close friend's tragic fate. Wu Bingbing's story made her realize the unpredictability of fate and the impermanence of life, and the sentimental Zhang Qun couldn't escape her feelings of loss and melancholy for a long time…

Two months later, Zhang Qun took leave to travel to Hong Kong, hoping to adjust her depressed mood. Unexpectedly, she saw an advertisement in the newspaper on the air, which stirred her heart again—Hong Kong Dalide International Auction Company was holding a special auction of Chinese and foreign paintings and calligraphy, and among the 80 works listed was Jiang Lan's "Woman Practicing Yoga".

How is that possible? It's clearly printed in the advertising description.

Looking at the time, it was that afternoon. After getting off the plane, she took a car straight to the auction venue on Hillier Street in Sheung Wan, Hong Kong. However, by the time she arrived, the auction had already ended, and a young female employee was cleaning up the venue. Panting, she asked where the painting "Woman Practicing Yoga" was. The employee, assuming she was there to buy a painting, asked if it was the 3D version. "You're too late," she was told; "it's already been sold." She then ran upstairs to inquire, where the company manager received her. But no matter how much she pressed, the manager wouldn't tell her who had consigned the painting for auction. She had no choice but to leave the building dejectedly.

Across the street, in a 13th-floor apartment in a mixed-use building, a half-open blind faced this direction. A woman stood in the shadows behind the window, silently watching Zhang Qun emerge from the building, watching her until she disappeared around the corner. Suddenly, the phone rang. The woman lowered the blinds, instantly plunging the room into darkness. She answered the phone, saying only two words: "Please speak!"

"Hello, Miss, thank you again. This is Dalide Auction House. It is my pleasure to inform you that the painting 'Woman Practicing Yoga,' which you consigned for auction, sold for 3.6 million yuan. After deducting commission and other fees, the remaining amount is 3.37 million yuan. Miss, how would you like to settle the payment?"

"Please transfer to the account below." The woman sat in the darkness by the telephone table. "Please write down the account number: HSBC Hong Kong, account number..." As she spoke, she fiddled with something on the table—in the dim light, it could be seen that it was a silver longevity lock.

"Please read it to me... Yes, the account name is Huang Qing... Yes, that's it!"

After hanging up the phone, she was still dangling the longevity lock in one hand, then casually tossed it into the nearby wastebasket...

(over)