Chapter 060: The Bloody Ancient Doll

I stood up abruptly, and Xiaomei noticed me as well. Yet she showed no intention of fleeing; instead, she calmly sat down at the table next to ours. The previous times she had appeared, Xiaomei had always carried an air of mystery, but now, she seemed no different from any ordinary person.

Her hair was long, cascading down to her waist. Winter in the capital was much colder than in the harbor district, and she wore a blood-red scarf, its color matching her lips exactly. Xiaomei was beautiful, but her beauty carried a hint of chill, an unsettling quality, despite the faint smile at the corners of her mouth.

I walked over and asked her why she had come here. Xiaomei lifted her head and retorted, why shouldn’t she be here? I was at a loss for words. I had been searching for her all this time, but never expected that she would simply appear before me. Yet now that she had, I realized I truly had no way to deal with her.

Luo Feng came up beside me and asked in a low voice if we should just tie her up. Xiaomei heard him; she turned and fixed her clear, unwavering gaze on him, as if awaiting his next move. I shook my head and whispered that this was the capital; we couldn’t act recklessly.

Besides, even if we did capture her, she wouldn’t honestly answer the questions that plagued my mind. After thinking for a moment, I simply sat down beside her. Under her startled gaze, I pulled her into my arms, leaned in close to her ear, and softly asked, “Will you disappear again after showing up like this?”

I could feel her body tremble distinctly, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled. “Do you not want to lose me?”

I nodded. “Yes, I don’t want to lose you. There are things we left unfinished before, and I still want to see them through.” As I spoke, my hand began to wander over her. Xiaomei trembled more violently and quickly stood up, her cheeks flushed with color.

“Fang Han, you don’t have to test me,” she said. “And don’t worry, I won’t disappear again. If you want to find me, it’ll be easy—perhaps we’ll meet again very soon.”

With that, Xiaomei walked out of the teahouse. I noticed the silver bracelet on her swinging wrist—the very one she had taken from me.

It seemed she had come here solely to meet me face-to-face. After several such encounters, I understood that beneath her occasional boldness, Xiaomei was far less at ease than she appeared. This only deepened my suspicion: she was not the kind of woman to live a life of the night, so why had she approached me in such a place in the harbor district and in that manner?

Luo Feng, still uneasy, sent someone to follow her, but not long after, his men reported they had lost her trail. Luo Feng was irritated, but I knew Xiaomei’s skill—she was an expert at slipping away in crowds and using the terrain. Back in the harbor, she had led me in circles more than once.

When our midday break ended, I told Chen Fan to wait for my news. He was immensely grateful and hurried off with the files and materials. Luo Feng and I wasted no time; taking the little ghost with us, we set off for the haunted old house in the outskirts. Yet we had barely set out when Luo Feng’s phone rang.

After answering, he pulled the car over, frowning deeply. I asked what had happened. He sighed and said Wang Yazhuo wanted to come with us.

Luo Feng was a bit troubled—he didn’t want much to do with her. But since it was Wang Yazhuo who had helped us find Xuan Yi’s clue, he couldn’t refuse her outright.

So we had no choice but to wait in the car for her.

I lit a cigarette and we waited nearly an hour before Wang Yazhuo finally slipped into the car through the back door. She was bundled up tightly and declared with some pride that she had only just managed to shake off her own men.

Luo Feng sighed again. “Miss Yazhuo, you can come with us, but you must stay close. If anything happens to you, I’ll have a hard time explaining to Master Ming.”

Luo Feng wasn’t afraid of Wang Jianming, but since we all lived by the rules of the underworld, no one wanted to push things unless forced. Wang Yazhuo nodded her agreement. Once in the car, she scooped the little ghost onto her lap. I noticed how unusually close the child was to her—and that Wang Yazhuo seemed to adore the child in return.

Apart from playing with the little ghost, Wang Yazhuo behaved with perfect composure, nothing like the willful heiress of rumor. Luo Feng watched her through the rearview mirror, puzzled. At first, she said nothing to me, but when she finally did, we were already nearing the outskirts.

Her first question nearly made me choke on my water—she asked if the little ghost was my daughter. There was something odd in her tone. Wordlessly, I turned to her and shot back, “Do I look like someone who had a child in my teens?”

Wang Yazhuo burst out laughing and shook her head. Once the ice was broken, she kept up a lively conversation with me for the rest of the journey, laughing often. The drive was long, and by the time we arrived, dusk had fallen.

Throughout the trip, Luo Feng had been uneasy, muttering about a bad feeling. After much deliberation, he called his own men, instructing them to head out as well, just in case.

By then, both Wang Yazhuo and the little ghost had fallen asleep. After we got out to rest for a bit, Luo Feng turned to me. “What are you thinking about? You’re not usually this talkative.”

He was referring to my conversation with Wang Yazhuo. My smile was gone. “Just making use of her. Her network of informants could help me.”

Luo Feng said nothing more.

I woke the others. Wang Yazhuo was excited, asking if we’d arrived. From her reaction, I could tell she must have been drawn by the haunted house’s reputation for thrills, which was why she insisted on coming along.

Luo Feng explained we’d have to proceed on foot from here. After we got out, it was Wang Yazhuo who took the little ghost by the hand. We passed through a patch of woods, and by then night had fallen completely.

Wang Yazhuo seemed even more exhilarated as it grew darker. The little ghost, unlike other children, showed no fear at all.

We held flashlights, their beams cutting through the mist that had risen among the trees as the temperature dropped. The pale fog drifted in the torchlight, swirling with each gust of wind, scattering fallen leaves. One leaf, light as a feather, landed on the back of my neck, feeling almost as if a hand were gently caressing me.

By flashlight, we saw the old house from afar, standing just beyond the trees. Once we left the woods, the countryside stretched empty all around us, with that lone house looming in the dusk. Only its outline was visible at first, but as we approached, the structure came into view.

It was large, the sort of country retreat a wealthy family might have built generations ago. The walls were crumbling, bricks fallen in places. Luo Feng pushed open the warped wooden gate and a cold wind swept out, making the door creak. Inside the walls stood an old single-story house.

The door to the house itself was ajar. Wang Yazhuo took a few steps forward, shining her flashlight inside—just in time for a shadow to flit across the doorway! She dropped her flashlight in fright and screamed; even as she did, I rushed into the house.

But when I got inside, the figure was gone. I searched quickly, and soon spotted the shadow again. It was a woman, standing motionless by a cabinet in the corner, her head bowed. As I reached out to touch her shoulder, she suddenly turned, revealing a pale face.

I exhaled in relief—it was Xiaomei.

A smile tugged at her lips. “Fang Han, I told you we’d meet again very soon.”

I asked her why she was here. She didn’t answer, but pointed at the cabinet in the corner, saying there was something inside. The cabinet was large and padlocked. Half-believing, I picked up a heavy stone and smashed the lock. The door swung open, and a rush of objects tumbled out.

I instinctively stepped back, then looked closer to see what had spilled out. The cabinet was filled with Kuman Thong dolls, grotesque and packed tightly together, each one smeared with fresh blood.

If you looked closely, you’d notice each plump doll wore a grin—a smile that sent chills crawling over my scalp.

“Fang Han, if you tell me a secret, I’ll tell you the secrets of the old Daoist and Xuan Yi,” Xiaomei’s voice came from behind me, oddly calm even as she looked at those dolls without a hint of surprise.

I turned. “What secret?”

Her expression grew grave. “Why are you so determined to find that person?”

“For revenge,” I replied.

She smiled faintly. “Are you so sure he’s really your enemy?”

I was about to answer when Wang Yazhuo burst into the room, telling me the little ghost had suddenly run off! She moved so quickly they couldn’t catch her. Luo Feng had chased after her but had vanished as well.

Cursing, I rushed outside, calling for the little ghost. Soon, I heard her crying, calling out to someone—a closer listen revealed she was begging Xuan Yi not to leave!

Xuan Yi had appeared!

I ran toward the sound of her voice, but soon it faded. When Wang Yazhuo and Xiaomei caught up, they froze in shock.

The little ghost and Luo Feng were lying in a heap of Kuman Thong dolls, both drenched in blood. A knife was plunged into Luo Feng’s chest, and Xiaomei’s lips were moving, chanting something under her breath. As I caught the words, every hair on my body stood on end...