Chapter 14: Elevator Terror

Looking at the eerie smile on Fang Lin’s face in the sketch, I couldn’t help but shudder. In my memory, Fang Lin would never smile like that. Besides, she was already dead. To suddenly come across such a drawing—who wouldn’t feel a chill run down their spine?

Jin Ze, however, continued to stare at the sketch, trying to find some clue within it.

After a while, Jin Ze seemed to find nothing unusual, so he put the drawing away and continued searching the place. Still, we couldn’t find the girl in the white dress. She had vanished like a ghost.

Finally, I walked over to the window and looked down. There was a thick drainage pipe running along the building, and since we were only on the second floor, it made sense that the little girl could have slid down the pipe. If someone was waiting for her below, it would have been even easier.

Jin Ze’s gaze also fell on the window, and then he walked over to me and said, “Chen Mu, not bad—you’re getting into the swing of things. You’re already looking for ways to break through. Yes, that little girl left through here. She tried to cover her tracks, but the dust on the windowsill has clearly been disturbed.”

In truth, I hadn’t thought things through that much—I was just guessing. But I was curious about the girl, so I quickly asked Jin Ze, “Who exactly is that little girl? Is there any way we can set up surveillance and catch her quickly? Since she could appear and disappear here without a trace, she must know this place well—she’s probably connected to the murderer.”

Jin Ze said directly, “There was absolutely no need for the little girl to appear, but she did. That means she’s not afraid of being caught. It’s almost a provocation, and she left us this sketch as a clue. Her behavior is exactly like Zhang Wentong’s hand signals earlier—she’s guiding us.”

Hearing this, I was startled and quickly asked, “Could the little girl be the murderer?”

Jin Ze just smiled faintly and asked me if I thought that was possible. I shook my head—no way, a frail little girl killing someone?

Then Jin Ze continued, “It’s more likely she was deliberately arranged by the murderer. Sometimes the murderer can’t show himself and needs helpers. That little girl is probably one of them. He might be implying that we’re only worthy of playing games with a little girl.”

I was still pondering Jin Ze’s words when he once again unfolded the sketch and asked me, “Chen Mu, what do you think this drawing means? What is it trying to tell us?”

That was what I had been thinking about. After considering it, I said, “There are three people in the drawing. Liu Yang and Fang Lin are already dead. Liu Yang was decapitated—that’s how he died. My girlfriend’s strange smile might mean she’s no longer the same Fang Lin, hinting that her identity was changed—she became the transgender corpse. Those parts are easy to understand. The difficult part is the woman in the middle. She hasn’t appeared yet. I think she’s our next breakthrough. Whether she’s dead or alive, you must find her as soon as possible, at least identify her. She might be the murderer’s next target.”

Jin Ze nodded, then suddenly asked, “Doesn’t the woman in the middle look familiar to you?”

I nodded immediately. I’d thought so earlier, but I just couldn’t recall who she was.

I asked Jin Ze if she recognized the woman, but Jin Ze seemed to have the same problem. She also felt the woman was familiar, but couldn’t quite remember. It was truly strange.

In the end, Jin Ze had to put the drawing away again. After He Ping and the others finished handling Zhang Wentong’s situation, they came over and took all the evidence that could be collected from the scene. Soon, we should be able to identify the body here and confirm if there were any other victims besides the five corpses stolen from the crematorium. After all, murder and corpse theft are two entirely different crimes.

He Ping and the others also brought more news: the same type of perfume found in Zheng Wei’s house—perfume made from corpse oil—was also discovered in Zhang Wentong’s home. This further connected everyone involved. So far, besides my girlfriend Fang Lin, Liu Yang, the Zheng Wei couple, and Zhang Wentong were all linked by this corpse oil perfume.

Jin Ze then sent me home. As for how they would proceed with the investigation, that was no longer my concern. The leads I could think of were: the person at the crematorium who sent me the human head by express delivery, the little girl, and the woman in the middle of the sketch who seemed so familiar. If we could find any one of them, it would be a huge breakthrough. Since I could think of these, Jin Ze surely could as well. I believed there would soon be progress in the case, and that was what I wanted most—first, to avenge Fang Lin, and second, to clear myself of all suspicion.

Lying in bed, thinking about all this, I gradually drifted off to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept before the ringing of my phone woke me. When I saw who was calling, I was instantly wide awake—it was Zhang Wentong again!

My hands trembling, I answered. Soon, Zhang Wentong’s voice came through: “Chen Mu, come to the 18th floor of my building, apartment 1807. I’m waiting for you here. If you dare call the police or bring anyone with you, you’ll die on the way. If you don’t believe me, try it.”

With that, Zhang Wentong hung up.

Honestly, I was completely stunned. To get a call from a dead man in the middle of the night—my terror was overwhelming.

I wanted to call Jin Ze, to call the police, but Zhang Wentong’s warning hung over my heart like a razor-sharp blade.

I forced myself to calm down and tried to think as Jin Ze would. He had said that as long as our conscience was clear, we could see through even the most bizarre cases with a scientific approach. I realized that Zhang Wentong’s calls were always hurried, never giving me time to respond—he’d just say something and hang up. This matched Jin Ze’s theory: someone had made Zhang Wentong record these messages before he died, and was using his voice to contact me. This way, they could frighten me and also conceal their own identity.

Yet, even after understanding this, I was more terrified than ever. What kind of person could plan so many steps ahead? What sort of twisted mind was calculating my every move? I had no doubt that if I didn’t do as instructed, they really could kill me instantly. Maybe they were hiding in some corner, watching. If I so much as called the police, I’d be dead.

So, in the end, I didn’t contact Jin Ze or call the police. Instead, I got ready, tucked a fruit knife into my waistband, and left.

He told me to go to the same building as before—Zhang Wentong’s upscale apartment complex. I remembered the place and took a cab straight there.

It was late at night, and I was alone in the elevator. I’ve always been a bit afraid of elevators, and with all the recent stories of elevator accidents, my nerves were taut. To calm myself, I pretended to be relaxed and hummed a tune.

When the elevator reached the fourth floor, it suddenly stopped and the doors opened. I thought someone was getting in, but after a few seconds, no one appeared. I called out, but there was no response, so I closed the doors and continued going up.

As the elevator climbed, a sudden chill shot through me—because I saw the button for the ninth floor light up. You can only light up the button from inside the elevator; if someone presses the call button from outside, it doesn’t light up inside.

In other words, someone inside the elevator had just pressed the button for the ninth floor! But I hadn’t touched it.

Then I remembered that when the elevator stopped on the fourth floor, no one had gotten in. Fear washed over me—could it be that something invisible had entered the elevator? Was it the one who pressed the ninth floor button?

What terrified me even more was that Zhang Wentong’s apartment was on the ninth floor…

I didn’t dare breathe. My back was ice-cold, and I felt a chill creep up my neck, as if something unclean was breathing down it…

Terrified, I squinted at the elevator’s mirrored wall. Many ghost stories say you can see spirits in the reflection. I looked, but behind me was nothing but emptiness.

But not seeing doesn’t mean nothing’s there. That only made me more afraid—people fear the unknown most of all.

I stood there holding my breath, every second like an eternity. At last, the elevator reached the ninth floor. The doors opened; I saw nothing, but I fervently hoped that whatever unclean thing might have been there would get out and go to its ninth floor.

Once the doors closed and the elevator continued upward, I finally exhaled in relief.

But almost immediately, my scalp prickled and my legs went weak—the elevator buttons lit up again. This time, someone had pressed the button for the fourteenth floor…