Chapter 72: Danger and Another Murder?

My home is on the first floor, and outside the window is a patch of wild grass. The fleeting shadow of a person had already vanished; I had no idea where they had gone. I opened the window and picked up the envelope. Another envelope, sudden and unexpected—this was the third I had received.

The first two had arrived while I was in the harbor district. Judging by the handwriting, they were from the same person, though I had no idea who it was. The anonymous letters kept urging me to leave the harbor district, to seek him out, promising to help me take revenge, yet never once revealing his identity. I had no clue where to look for him.

But I knew this person was anything but simple, because those earlier envelopes had included old photographs of my father and me.

Without hesitation, I opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. The handwriting confirmed my suspicion—this letter was from the same sender as before. On the paper were just a few simple words: "You are in danger."

I was momentarily stunned. At that very moment, there was a knock at the door. I spun around; the little ghost had awakened as well. I signaled her to remain silent. The knocking persisted for a while, then stopped. I picked up a steel rod from the corner and crept to the door.

I asked who was outside, but there was no reply. Carefully, I opened the door—no one was there. My home was in an alleyway. I glanced around; seeing no one, I was about to return inside when I heard someone calling my name. It was Chen Fan's voice.

Soon enough, I saw Chen Fan running toward me. I frowned and asked if he had been the one knocking just now. He nodded, saying he had tried to call me, and when no one answered, he came over himself. I noticed he was wearing his police uniform. For him to be in uniform this late meant he was on duty.

It was cold outside, so I let Chen Fan in. Panting, he grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table, twisted it open, and drank. While he did so, I checked my cell phone—sure enough, there were several missed calls, though I hadn’t heard a single one.

I asked the little ghost if she had heard the phone, but she shook her head. Immediately, I felt that something was off. I could have slept through it, but the little ghost, who had grown up rough and wary, had the alertness of a wild animal—there was no way several calls could have failed to wake her. I took a deep breath. Focusing, I detected a strange scent in the air.

The window had been tightly shut before I opened it. I went to the doorway and crouched down. Sure enough, I found traces of something like ash in the crack beneath the door. My heart grew heavy—someone had used knockout incense to put us into a deep sleep.

I asked Chen Fan how many times he had knocked. After several gulps of water, he told me he’d knocked about ten minutes ago, but we hadn’t woken up. He thought we weren’t home, but later, unable to rest easy, he’d returned.

If Chen Fan had only knocked once, then the earlier, anxious knocking hadn’t been from him.

I glanced again at the letter in my hand—the sender had been warning me.

I was pondering the sender’s identity when Chen Fan asked what was wrong. I shook my head and asked why he’d come so late. Chen Fan slapped his forehead. “I nearly forgot the main thing—there’s been another murder!”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you planning to ask me for help with every case?”

Chen Fan immediately shook his head. “No, Han, listen. I got woken up by a call from the precinct in the middle of the night—there’s been a murder, and the crime scene is that underground parking garage!”

I stood up at once. We’d both experienced the strangeness of that place. I asked Chen Fan for details, but he said he’d only heard about it half an hour ago and had come to find me first because he felt something was seriously wrong. He hadn’t been to the scene yet.

Chen Fan’s instincts were spot-on.

That underground garage was very close to the apartment of celebrity Z, and she was connected to the bizarre case of the Taoist priest Wu Qingshan’s death. I quickly dressed, scooped up the little ghost, and we headed out.

By the time we arrived at the underground garage, the police were already there in force, and a cordon had been set up outside. The commotion had woken many residents, and a crowd had gathered outside the tape. Most people living in this complex were wealthy. There were also many plainclothes officers on site. Chen Fan drove in without trouble and parked to the side. The little ghost stayed in the car; Chen Fan, worried she’d wander off, locked the doors.

Inside the garage, there was another police cordon—beyond it was the actual crime scene. Chen Fan asked me to wait while he went to gather information. I peered past the tape—many officers were present, and several people in forensic garb were crouched on the ground.

The body was obscured by the crowd; I couldn’t see it.

As I watched, the garage lights flickered again; many people looked up at the fixtures. The lights sputtered with a harsh, crackling noise, then went out, plunging the garage into darkness. At that moment, a slow, rhythmic footstep echoed through the space.

Many investigators already had flashlights, and as the footsteps sounded, everyone grew tense, swinging their beams around in confusion, making the shadows dance. The footsteps grew louder and nearer.

I felt the same chill as last time—the footsteps seemed to be right behind me. Perhaps it was my imagination, but my back went cold, as if someone were standing there. I whipped around and, in the dim light, saw a shadowy figure behind me.

Just as I was about to react, the lights came back on and the footsteps stopped abruptly. I saw that it was Chen Fan behind me. He was startled, too, patting his chest, and pulled me back toward his car. Suddenly, a noise at the car window startled him again.

It was the little ghost, tapping on the window, as if she wanted to speak.

Chen Fan unlocked the car and rolled down the window. The little ghost’s first words stunned me: “Brother Han, there’s a ghost here.”

The same words again. Chen Fan shivered. “For heaven’s sake, why do you always say that? Can’t you be more specific?”

But the little ghost couldn’t explain why she felt there was a ghost—she just insisted, with utter certainty, that there was one.

The officers on the scene began to grow uneasy as well. The garage’s entrance and exit had been cordoned off, but in the rush, two points remained unsecured: the elevator and the stairwell leading upstairs.

I saw officers conferring and then sending a squad of seven or eight to check those spots.

Chen Fan admitted the garage was unnerving. Although there were many people, the space still felt empty and gloomy—every step echoed, amplifying the eeriness.

I told Chen Fan to stay calm and asked what he had learned. Regretful, he said that if he’d known, he would have detained the drunk man earlier—because the victim was the same drunken man we’d seen before. The forensic team was still examining the body; Chen Fan had glanced at it quickly, but had to look away, finding it unsettling.

He said the body was frightening.

Chen Fan had already done me a favor by getting me this close; I had no way to approach the body myself.

I asked him to describe what he’d seen in detail, but just as he was about to answer, another commotion broke out among the crowd. Chen Fan hurried over to look, the garage echoing with anxious discussion. He returned quickly, his expression grimmer than before.

“Han, they found something under the car—a Kuman Thong doll.”