Chapter 022: Ten Minutes

Chen Fan was thoroughly perplexed by my explanation. He asked, if Yunqing isn’t the culprit, and Yungao isn’t either, then who is? I had suspected both Yunqing and Yungao at different times, but gradually eliminated them from suspicion. Especially Yunqing—I was now convinced she had been framed, and confessed only for some unknown reason.

As for Yunqing’s reason for confessing, I speculated it might be connected to Sansong Temple or Yungao, since Yunqing’s attitude toward the temple and her brother was strange, not simply hatred or disgust. Regarding Yungao, I still felt something was off about him, but I didn’t believe he was the murderer.

Yungao had just attempted, with a rather clumsy method, to expose Yunqing and stir up public outrage to pressure the Hong Kong police. Yet his plan backfired. I didn’t believe the person behind the Ghost Restaurant case and Fat Ji’s murder would resort to such crude tactics.

After explaining my reasoning to Chen Fan, I told him to continue investigating Xuan Yi’s identity and whereabouts. Chen replied that he had made connections within the police, but so far, Xuan Yi hadn’t returned to Sansong Temple, and nobody could trace where he had gone. I told Chen Fan not to worry, but he remained anxious.

The Ghost Restaurant case had happened quite some time ago, and he asked if I could really solve it. I hesitated for a moment, but ultimately gave him a confident answer: “We will crack the case. Just follow my instructions.”

“Hao, we’re friends now. I’d really like to know—” Chen Fan didn’t finish his sentence, as my cold stare shut him up immediately. I knew he was about to ask who I really was. I glanced at him, and he promptly closed his mouth. I warned him that if he continued to pry, he’d regret it.

Returning to the hotel, it was already late at night. Chen Fan went straight to bed—days of running around had left him exhausted. In the middle of the night, I received a phone call. The voice on the line made my heart tighten—it was Xuan Yi, calling my name and asking to meet.

I immediately asked where, and Xuan Yi named a location. To my surprise, it was the small hut where Yunqing had been arrested—the very place where she had worshipped the tablets of Lao Jiu and his companions. Xuan Yi’s voice was calm and detached, as before, like a sage who had attained enlightenment, but with an aged timbre, reminiscent of a man in his seventies or eighties.

I instantly thought of the rumors about Xuan Yi’s agelessness. He wanted to meet in ten minutes, saying he had something important to tell me, but he would wait only ten minutes—if I didn’t arrive in time, he would disappear and never see me again.

I retorted, “What makes you think I’ll come?”

Xuan Yi merely chuckled, “Don’t you want to know why the old master asked you to leave Hong Kong? Don’t you want to know who the female ghost was that the old master released from the mountain? And don’t you want to know whose bracelet you hold in your hand?”

He fired three consecutive questions at me, each one shocking. He said the countdown began now, then hung up. I quickly dressed and rushed out of the hotel. Outside, the men left by Luo Feng were standing guard. They called after me, wanting to know where I was going.

But I was in too much of a hurry, and their voices faded. As I ran toward the appointed location, I kept checking my watch. The seconds sped by; it was deep night and there were barely any taxis in sight. Ten minutes—reaching that place in time was impossible.

I ran as fast as I could, unable to hail a car, so I went on foot. In my mind, I replayed Xuan Yi’s three questions. Judging by his tone, the old master’s request for me to leave Hong Kong was no coincidence; his muttering to the air wasn’t accidental either, and the bracelet I found on the mountain was even less so.

By the time I arrived at the meeting place, gasping for breath, more than ten minutes had passed. The surroundings were desolate, nothing but withered weeds—no sign of life. Under the ghostly white moonlight, the small wooden hut stood starkly on the outskirts, its door open.

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A gust of wind slammed the hut’s door shut, but as I approached, it suddenly swung open again. I stopped and stared intently at the hut; the wooden door creaked continuously, as if someone were manipulating it.

After observing for a while and seeing no sign of anyone, I slowly walked toward the hut. As I stepped over the threshold, a cold wind hit me head-on, and the door slammed toward my face. I raised my hand to block it, then released it once inside—the door closed behind me.

The chilly air inside swirled about, making it impossible to tell where the wind was coming from. The room was dark, with only a few faint points of light flickering. I once again caught the scent of burning incense. The weather was cold, and my spine tingled as I groped around—the darkness felt as if an unseen eye were watching me.

It was as if someone was slowly approaching from behind, drawing closer and closer. In my mind’s eye, I saw a woman’s hand—bright red nails, at least ten centimeters long—her hand poised to touch my back at any moment.

But when I turned around, all I saw was darkness.

I pulled out my phone and tried calling Xuan Yi, but he didn’t answer. As I dialed repeatedly, I searched the hut. The faint lights were sticks of incense still burning, and on the table, I found a candle whose wick was still warm, as if recently extinguished.

I lit the candle; the flame flickered briefly before snuffing out.

I surveyed the hut—there was a window, and it was open. After closing the door, I finally managed to light the candle. Xuan Yi still didn’t answer, and after several attempts, his phone finally went dead.

I cursed and stowed my phone away. Ten minutes had long passed; it seemed Xuan Yi truly had no intention of meeting me.

My gaze fell on the four memorial tablets behind the incense, bearing the names of Lao Jiu and his companions. This time, I took them with me. I found it odd: Yunqing had been arrested here, and the police had said the hut contained memorial tablets for Lao Jiu and the others. Such items should have been taken as evidence.

Cradling the four tablets, I left the eerie hut. I kept glancing back; the hut receded into the distance, but the unsettling feeling grew stronger within me. When I returned to the hotel, Luo Feng’s men asked where I had gone, sounding anxious—they said if anything happened to me, they couldn’t answer to Luo Feng.

Noticing the tablets in my arms, one man stepped back, remarking that carrying memorial tablets in the middle of the night was creepy. Another chimed in, saying my complexion was so pale I barely looked human.

After days of strange and vexing events, I told them all to shut up and went to my room, collapsing into sleep.

When I groggily woke the next day, I found someone sitting by my bed. I sprang up, but relaxed once I saw who it was—Luo Feng. I asked why he hadn’t knocked; Luo Feng patted my shoulder and joked that he’d been knocking for minutes. When I didn’t respond, he got the hotel staff to open the door, worried something had happened to me.

Luo Feng remarked that I looked terrible. I glanced in the mirror and, indeed, my face was much paler than usual. He asked if something had happened. I considered for a moment, then told Luo Feng everything that had transpired while he was away.

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Luo Feng was surprised. He stood up, pacing, and said Sansong Temple was too mysterious and had to be investigated thoroughly.

“I’ve already had Chen Fan look into Xuan Yi,” I replied, then asked why Luo Feng had come to see me.

Luo Feng slapped his forehead and told me he had discovered some clues. He’d been busy with gang matters, but had assigned men to track Lao Jiu and his companions’ movements after their arrival in Hong Kong. With no leads, Luo Feng resorted to the most straightforward method.

He sent his men to the neighborhoods near the docks, each carrying photos of Lao Jiu and the others, asking people one by one. For several days, Luo Feng didn’t give up—finally, he got some information. Luo Feng said a convenience store owner two blocks from the docks claimed to have seen Lao Jiu and the four men.

I immediately sat up and asked what the owner had said.

Luo Feng replied that the convenience store was by a small alley, and inside the alley was a hidden entertainment venue. The owner remembered that a scantily clad hostess had led Lao Jiu and his companions into the alley, Lao Jiu grinning lewdly as he walked.

I was slightly taken aback. Before coming to Hong Kong, Lao Jiu had indeed said he wanted to have some fun, but he’d mentioned doing so only after business was done. I’d assumed he was joking and didn’t pay it much mind. Lao Jiu was my man, not Luo Feng’s; Luo Feng didn’t know him well and asked if Lao Jiu was really so lustful as to get distracted from his duties.

I considered it. “Hard to say. At the time, these four were the most capable men I had, and their work was always satisfactory.”

Luo Feng patted my shoulder. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to drag you into this, at least not yet.”

Luo Feng said nothing further. I asked if he had investigated the entertainment venue; Luo Feng said not yet, and that he’d notify me as soon as he had news.

I dressed, saying I would go with him immediately.

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