10. The Secret in the Tomb

I dialed Jin Ze’s number as I dashed out of my courtyard. No sooner had I stepped out than I saw several figures rushing toward me from the distance; the leader, moving with exceptional speed, was Jin Ze.

Upon seeing me, Jin Ze asked for the situation. I told him something terrifying was happening at my house. He waved a hand to signal for the perimeter to be secured, and I watched as police officers emerged from every direction, surrounding my home within a radius of several hundred meters.

Jin Ze led the way, pistol in hand, as we charged inside. I hurried alongside him, giving him a brief account of what had just transpired.

We quickly reached the main room, where Jin Ze immediately caught sight of my father lying in a pool of blood, his forehead slashed open. Jin Ze stiffened, then turned his gaze toward me—not out of suspicion, I gathered, but to assess my emotional state.

To be honest, I was in a state of emotional collapse, completely dazed. Having just learned of my mother’s tragic death, followed immediately by my father’s horrific suicide, I had reached the absolute limit of what a person could endure. Fortunately, I did not have deep emotional attachments to my parents; otherwise, I surely would have fainted.

However, the crawling baby’s head was nowhere to be seen on the floor. This puzzled me—could it have been a hallucination? That seemed impossible, as my father had seen it too, and it was that sight that had driven him to take his own life.

While I wondered where the head had gone, Jin Ze took two steps into my father’s room and leaned down to peer under the bed. Suddenly, he froze.

I instinctively knelt to look as well. I wasn't overly shocked, but I was startled; I had found the crawling head again. It was spinning in circles under the bed, moving back and forth as if it had lost all sense of direction and was trapped.

Jin Ze, remarkably composed, didn't hesitate. He told me to fetch a broom, and with it, he hooked the head and pulled it out.

Up close, we examined it. It was indeed the head of an infant, though not a newborn—it looked about a year old. Where it had come from, or how it had moved on its own, was a mystery.

Jin Ze swept the head with the broom, causing it to flip over, face down on the floor. I was shocked, but then, a sudden realization hit me.

Damn it. A small turtle had been stuffed inside the head. It wasn't some supernatural haunting; the head was moving simply because the turtle was crawling inside. It was truly twisted.

Jin Ze picked up the head and pulled out the turtle. As it emerged, a mobile phone tumbled out from the cavity as well.

Seeing the phone, Jin Ze remarked, "So that’s it. The 'ghost' is here. The killer stuffed the phone that was messaging you into this head. That’s why our police tracking kept pinning the location here, making us think the killer was hiding in your home. They manipulated our forces while they weren't even here. A truly cunning culprit."

However, I recalled the message sent to me just moments ago and blurted out, "No, he is here! He must be hiding in my house. This head just appeared, likely because the turtle had just crawled out. But he sent me a message just now, which means he only stuffed the phone into the head a short while ago. Hurry, search! We can't let him slip away!"

The police were already conducting a massive search of the area, but the result was unexpected: not a single person was found.

I found it inconceivable. Had we missed something, or was the head itself sending the messages? As I panicked, Jin Ze said, "Chen Mu, I understand your concern, but you're overthinking it. QQ accounts can be logged into a computer and a phone simultaneously. That last message was likely sent by the killer from elsewhere using a computer."

Just as he finished, his phone rang. After hanging up, he told me, "The police network division says the 'Voyeur' account was logged in from the city a short while ago, using a public Wi-Fi network. We’ve been played."

Hearing this, I finally gathered my wits. While I knew now that it had nothing to do with ghosts, I felt an even deeper dread. I realized this killer was far more adept at psychological manipulation than Bai Ye had been; he knew how to strike fear into the very depths of one's soul.

The police eventually called off the hunt. Miao Miao arrived to process the scene, though there was little to investigate since I had experienced it all firsthand.

Jin Ze clearly noticed my unstable mental state and took me away early. He dropped me off at the police station, leaving me to my silence. Miao Miao stopped by to draw some blood for testing.

I sat there, desolate. In just a few hours, I had received too much terrible news; I was nearing my breaking point. The image of my mother's remains and the bloody scene of my father's suicide played on a loop in my mind, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.

Jin Ze returned and draped a coat over my shoulders. "Chen Mu," he said, "I am an orphan, too. Even if we are all that’s left in the world, we must learn to embrace it. Everything will get better. Stay strong."

His words were like a ray of sunlight in the darkness, calming my nerves. I thought of the relieved smile on my father’s face before he died; perhaps that was his best path forward—ending his own sins.

I suddenly remembered my father’s final words: that the grave of the Widow Zhang’s husband at the east end of the village was a treasure trove, and I must bury him there at the exact time of my birth, or else face total catastrophe.

I told Jin Ze. He asked if my father had been superstitious. I shook my head; I had no such memory, and he hadn't seemed like that kind of person.

"Then it might be a code," Jin Ze said. "Your father was likely trying to warn you of something but feared being overheard."

I frowned, puzzled. "What kind of code? I haven't been back to the village in a long time and I don't know the people there. Do you think there’s a clue in that grave?"

Jin Ze thought it highly likely. He immediately made arrangements to look into the situation of Widow Zhang. He told me to rest, but I insisted on going with him, and he respected my wishes.

When we arrived back at my hometown, Jin Ze had already gathered the facts. There was indeed a Widow Zhang, whose husband had died of tuberculosis a year prior. Since we still practiced earth burial and the villagers considered tuberculosis taboo and contagious, he had been buried in a solitary grave halfway up the mountain. This made our theory even more plausible; no one wanted to go near that grave, making it an ideal place to hide something.

We soon found the grave. Jin Ze stepped on the mound a few times, then frowned. "The soil is loose. It looks like it was dug up and refilled recently."

Regret washed over me instantly. I hated myself; the killer had likely bugged the phone inside the head, heard my conversation with my father, and guessed the secret. If he had already taken whatever was buried there, I would never forgive myself. I should have told Jin Ze everything immediately.

Jin Ze, sensing my distress, said, "Chen Mu, don't blame yourself. You've done well enough. The soil might just be loose because your father was here recently. Let's dig it up and see."

We set to work. Digging up someone else’s grave was taboo, but I was desperate for the truth. We soon reached the coffin. Jin Ze told me to look away, then put on a mask and pushed the lid open, cautious of the bacteria from the tuberculosis victim.

I couldn't help but look. I saw a highly decomposed corpse, emitting a foul odor and faintly glowing green in the moonlight—truly chilling.

But I wasn't scared; I was overwhelmed with excitement. Inside the coffin sat a small metal briefcase. I didn't know if it was the secret my father had referred to, but Jin Ze carefully lifted it out.

Looking at the briefcase, I finally understood my father’s words—they were the key to opening it!

The lock wasn't digital; it featured two rows of symbols. The front row had twelve zodiac signs, from Rat to Pig. The back row had twelve earthly branches, representing the traditional two-hour time blocks of the day.

My father meant for me to input my own zodiac sign and birth time to open the case. And given his warning, a mistake could lead to disaster.

Jin Ze turned to me. "Chen Mu, what is your birth time?"

The problem was, I stood there like a fool, shaking my head. I didn't know.

Jin Ze frowned, looking at me with confusion. "How could someone not know their own birth time? Your parents must have mentioned it at some point. Even I, an orphan, know mine—it was written on the swaddling clothes I was found in."