The Haunted House - Chapter 7

Outside the apartment, Bai Qingqing asked Li Qian, “So, what’s your plan now?” Li Qian looked at Bai Qingqing with a confused expression and said, “I once had two ridiculous wishes: to see my sister again and to gain freedom. Now that both have come true, I want to find a quiet, deserted place to bury them and atone for my sins.” After speaking, he turned and walked away. Bai Qingqing watched his silhouette fade into the distance, saying nothing. Suddenly, Li Qian turned back to Bai Qingqing and said, “You’re no longer fully human. You must constantly remind yourself that your mission isn’t over. They’re still coming for you.”

A month passed. At Bai Qingqing’s new book signing event, cameras clicked incessantly as journalists photographed her signing books for her fans. Bai Qingqing had won the bet with her father. When someone asked her how she achieved success, she replied, “Do what you truly want to do, and write about what you know. If you find joy in the process of writing, you’re already on the path to success.”

Late at night, Bai Qingqing tightened her coat and walked through the dreamy glow of neon lights. Her old Nokia cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Qingqing, it’s Dad. I never expected you to succeed like this, even surpassing me. I’m truly proud of you. From now on, go and do whatever you want. This old man won’t interfere with your life anymore.”

After hanging up the call, Bai Qingqing screamed hysterically into the night. Emerald green tears welled up and streamed down her face. No one knew that the profound loneliness within her was approaching an unbearable depth. She could no longer feel the warmth of her tightly wrapped clothes, the satisfaction after a full meal, or the relief of scratching an itch. She thought of Li Qian-but where was he?

Bai Qingqing walked aimlessly alone on the street, not wanting to return to the apartment where she currently lived. Though it was in a garden-style community with diligent security guards, responsible property management, and houses so lavish they seemed gilded, she felt no joy there. Over the past month, her thoughts often drifted back to the mysterious apartment on Shenlong Road, recalling every little detail she experienced there. She missed the quiet freedom, the uninhibited release of emotions. A dark thought sprouted in her mind-she wanted to return there. She wanted to uncover who had concealed the love story of Wang Chenxi and Li Xian and who had driven Li Qian to the brink of despair.

Cold wind swept past, but Bai Qingqing, feeling no chill, only had one person she wanted to see: Li Qian. She suddenly remembered his parting words:

“You’re no longer fully human. You must constantly remind yourself that your mission isn’t over. They’re still coming for you.”

A shiver ran through her at the memory, and she kept walking.

Her phone rang, breaking the silence at an inopportune moment.

It was her father calling again. Annoyed, she answered.

“Hello, is this Qingqing? I’m an old friend of your father’s,” said a voice on the other end.

“Yes, this is me. What’s going on?” Bai Qingqing asked, confused and waiting for an explanation.

“Well, Qingqing, your father collapsed. We’re at the hospital now. You need to come back quickly!” The person on the line finished in a single breath.

“What?!” Bai Qingqing’s emerald green tears suddenly streamed down her face. Strangely, although her mind screamed in agony, her heart felt nothing. There wasn’t the sorrow she expected, but instead, a faint sense of relief. She didn’t have time to dwell on the unnatural feeling. Without hesitation, she hung up and rushed home to pack.

“Miss Bai, you’re back. We have some letters for you. Could you please sign for them?” the security guard at the community greeted her politely.

It was common knowledge that after Bai Qingqing became famous, some tabloid journalist had leaked her address, and she now received various letters nearly every day. In the past, Bai Qingqing would read and respond to every letter carefully. But today, she had no patience for these inexplicable correspondences. She quickly scribbled a signature, took the stack of letters, and went home.

The security guard looked at Bai Qingqing’s signature with delight, grinning foolishly at her. “This is great, I finally got her autograph. It’s always been someone from her magazine agency who comes to pick up the mail. Today I managed to trick her into signing; now I can explain it to my wife, hehe.”

“Do you know her?” Before the security guard could stop smiling, a sinister and terrifying voice suddenly appeared behind him.

He steadied himself and quickly turned around, but saw no one there. The security guard shuddered, rubbed his eyes, and looked around carefully, still finding nothing. Just as he was filled with confusion and about to turn back, suddenly a pair of hands, charred black with dried blood, embraced him from behind, and a strong smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils. Trembling, he glanced down at the hands and began to scream frantically, “Ah, ah, help me!” But there was no one around. He tried to break free from the terrifying and nauseating grip, but no matter how much he struggled, it was futile. Overwhelmed with fear, his legs shook, and his trousers gradually became damp with a warm liquid that ran down his legs to the ground. The monstrous figure behind him suddenly let out a shrill laugh: “Hahaha, a grown man scared to the point of wetting his pants!”

Just as the security guard was nearly passing out, the terrifying monster behind him suddenly disappeared. He collapsed on the ground, his body limp, his forehead sweating profusely, his eyes vacant, and his lips moving silently. When passersby saw him, he seemed to have entered another world, unable to hear the spectators’ comments or see their expressions, as if his brain had also stopped functioning.

“What happened to him?” asked one passerby.

“I don’t know. When I passed by earlier, I saw him standing there struggling and talking nonsense, as if there were people around him. Then he just fell down.”

“Hey, what’s that green stuff on his shoulder?”

“Let’s not talk about that now. Hurry up and call the police, get an ambulance, he might still be saved.” The onlookers began calling, no longer discussing the mysterious green liquid.

As Bai Qingqing quickly packed her bags and walked out of the community gate, pulling her suitcase behind her, she noticed a crowd of people gathered up ahead. They were chattering noisily, their voices blending into an indistinct buzz. She guessed it was probably a traffic accident or something similar. However, being in a hurry and never one to enjoy getting involved in commotion, she bypassed the scene without a second thought and hurried toward the train station.

Meanwhile, back in Bai Qingqing’s apartment, an unexpected and strange occurrence was unfolding. Among the pile of letters she had brought home, one peculiar envelope, black with an embroidered blue rose, seemed to almost wriggle as if trying to free itself from the weight of the pile. The envelope’s struggle for a more comfortable position seemed to last for a moment before it stopped suddenly, giving up as if in defeat. Like a wilted eggplant, it settled down-but not without a twist. The front of the envelope slowly, eerily formed a sly, malicious grin.

The envelope was addressed to: “Recipient: Bai Qingqing. Sender: Fengxin Magazine.”

Elsewhere, after the security guard had been urgently rushed to the hospital, the doctors worked relentlessly to save him. His life was spared, but the toll of the trauma was severe-he fell into a vegetative state.

“Doctor, please, I’m begging you, save my husband! Our entire family depends on him. Without him, how will we survive?” cried the security guard’s wife, collapsing to her knees in front of the doctor, her voice choked with desperation.

“Ma’am, please, get up. We’ve done all we can. You should go in and see your husband now,” the doctor said compassionately as he gently helped her up, shook his head with a hint of helplessness, and walked away.

The woman, dazed and half-mad with grief, stumbled toward her husband’s bedside. She looked at his closed eyes, the stillness of his body, and broke into uncontrollable sobs.

“Sister, don’t be too hard on yourself now. Grieving won’t solve anything. If you want your husband to recover, the best thing you can do is figure out how to gather enough money for his treatment,” said a nurse nearby, who was administering an injection to another patient. Her voice was filled with genuine concern. “The doctor said it might just be extreme fright-that’s what caused this. If you take good care of him, he might recover someday.”

“But how are we supposed to live now? How will I manage?” the woman wailed, once again dissolving into tears.

“Oh, wait.” The nurse paused, as if she had just remembered something. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, handing it to the woman. “Is this yours? I found it clenched in your husband’s hand. There’s a name written on it-it looks kind of familiar, though I can’t quite recall who it is.”

The woman’s trembling hands accepted the paper as her mind went blank for a moment. She stared at it, stunned: it was the signature they had spent so much effort trying to obtain from the famous writer Bai Qingqing. Why would her husband have been clutching this signature at the moment he got hurt? Could this somehow be connected to Bai Qingqing?

After pondering for a moment, as if she had just uncovered a valuable clue, the woman clutched the paper tightly, her face filled with gratitude. Turning to the nurse, she said, “Thank you. On behalf of Baojun and me, thank you so much!”

After a brief chat, the nurse left the room, and the woman carefully examined the piece of paper, seemingly trying to find some clue. Unintentionally, she discovered a small green stain in one corner of the paper, similar to the one on the security guard’s uniform. She felt certain that this incident was somehow related to Bai Qingqing, and she resolved to thoroughly investigate the matter after ensuring her husband’s well-being.

Her name was Chunxiang, a name that represented the vibrant essence of spring and a delightful fragrance.

Bai Qingqing bought a train ticket home, a journey that would take half an hour. She couldn’t remember the last time she had returned home and shook her head with a hint of self-reproach. At that moment, she suddenly longed for the days spent with her father, who worked hard to write and earn money to support her college education. She repaid him with excellent grades. She could no longer recall what her mother looked like; her mother had decisively left when she was still too young to remember, leaving her and her father to fend for themselves. She had always believed her father was remarkable, and perhaps she inherited his genes, as she had loved words from a young age and aspired to carry on his legacy. Now, she finally had some achievements of her own. However, the word “mother” rarely appeared in Bai Qingqing’s works, and even when it did, it referred to someone else’s mother. These two words represented an irreplaceable void within her.

The conductor’s gentle and magnetic voice pulled Bai Qingqing from her thoughts. “Train K2014 is about to arrive at this station. Passengers boarding this train, please take your luggage and tickets to Gate 3 for inspection.”

Bai Qingqing pulled her suitcase and made her way to the ticket counter with quick little steps. After her ticket was checked, she located her seat in the carriage-number “14,” an ominous number. A flicker of worry crossed her mind, but she managed to smile faintly, stowed her luggage, and sat down. Ten minutes later, the train slowly started moving. Just as it accelerated, Bai Qingqing inadvertently caught sight of a familiar figure through the window-or rather, a ghostly shadow. It was the demon, Li Qian, his face twisted and his body charred. She banged on the window, desperately shouting his name and signaling for him to turn around. But Li Qian showed no sign of acknowledgment. Panic surged within her, and she abruptly stood up and rushed toward the carriage door, attempting to jump off the train, but a passing conductor firmly restrained her.

“Miss, the train has already departed. Please step away from the door for your safety. We will be conducting a ticket check shortly. Please return to your seat.”

With her spirits dampened, Bai Qingqing returned to her seat. She leaned against the window, looking outside, but she no longer saw Li Qian’s figure. She replayed the shadow she had just seen in her mind; it resembled Li Qian too closely. There couldn’t be anyone else in this world who was as pitiful as he was-yet why wouldn’t he turn back? Bai Qingqing was left perplexed, struggling to understand.

“Miss, may I see your valid ID and train ticket, please?” The same conductor who had stopped her earlier walked over politely.

Bai Qingqing fumbled through the pockets of her clothing and her suitcase but could only find her ID card. The ticket she’d already shown during the check, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Miss, have you found your ticket yet?” the conductor asked again in a polite tone.

“I’m really sorry. I just had it during the inspection, but now it’s gone,” Bai Qingqing replied, her face colored with slight embarrassment.

“Please take another good look. If you still can’t find it, you’ll need to purchase another ticket,” the conductor advised.

Bai Qingqing searched every possible spot-the same pockets and bag compartments-again and again, but still came up empty-handed. “I… I guess I’ll just buy another ticket. I really can’t find it.”

“Alright, then. Please come with me. The ticket price is 210 yuan,” the conductor said simply.

“Oh, sure. One moment please, I’ll get the money.” As she spoke, Bai Qingqing took out her wallet, intending to pay. But after rummaging through it and even checking her pockets again, she could only gather 120 yuan. Ever since she became famous, Bai Qingqing rarely carried much cash. Everywhere she went, she mainly relied on credit cards for transactions.

“I’m really sorry, Miss, but we do have regulations about this. Please try to look again for the full amount, or this will be very difficult for us,” the conductor said, his tone growing slightly firmer.

Bai Qingqing searched through all her belongings yet again, so many times that by now she could mentally catalog every item in every corner of her bag. However, no matter how thoroughly she searched, she found neither the missing ticket nor any additional cash.

Just as Bai Qingqing was feeling utterly frustrated, a deep, magnetic male voice came from behind the conductor.

“Miss, is this your train ticket? I just found it on the floor,” said the man as he stepped forward.

Bai Qingqing stared at him in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, staying silent for a moment.

“Excuse me, is this your ticket?” the man repeated as he gently offered the ticket to her.

It was only then that Bai Qingqing seemed to snap out of her daze. She blinked a few times and hesitated before stammering, “Um, excuse me, but… have we met before?”

Indeed, Bai Qingqing felt this way because the man standing before her gave her a strange sense of familiarity.

The man chuckled lightly. “I don’t believe so, Miss,” he responded gentlemanly.

Feeling a sense of mild disappointment, Bai Qingqing accepted the ticket from him. After quickly glancing at it and confirming it was indeed hers, she handed it to the conductor. The conductor verified the ticket against her ID, nodded in satisfaction, and walked away.