Chapter 75: Resentment

The crowd that had gathered around was whispering among themselves. Charlie grew agitated and shouted at them, demanding to know what they were staring at. At his angry outburst, people slowly dispersed, but I noticed that all of them still kept sneaking glances at the actress Z. Charlie was flustered; he hurried over to Z, shook her by the shoulders a few times, and only then did she return to herself.

Charlie quickly pulled down Z’s sleeve. I approached her, frowning, and asked about the scratches on her arm. Z lowered her head in silence. Charlie clearly wanted to keep it hidden; he shot me a look and said, “Officer, isn’t this Z’s private matter? I don’t see what it has to do with your investigation.”

Charlie’s accent was heavy, making his words almost comical. I shrugged and nodded. “Fine, then let’s talk about what does relate to the case.” With that, I took a seat, fixed my gaze on Z, and asked, “Now, can you tell me what you left unsaid last time?”

Previously, when the death of Taoist Wu Qingshan was mentioned, Z had first been terrified and then seemed to lose control, rushing back to her room in hysteria. Now, at the mention of Wu Qingshan, her shoulders trembled again. She hesitated for a long time before forcing out a hoarse sentence: “Officer, I suspect that it was the Kuman Thong who killed Master Wu.”

Her voice was raspy, her face masked with heavy makeup. Whether she was haggard or not was hard to tell, but the bloodshot whites of her eyes betrayed her sleeplessness over the past few days. I held my breath; finally, Z was willing to talk about the Kuman Thong. Whether it was the case of Wu Qingshan or the drunkard’s death, both were connected to the Kuman Thong.

I pondered for a moment and asked her why.

Z kept her head down and, after a long silence, began to describe the day Wu Qingshan disappeared, recalling their meeting. Every time she came to the capital, it was to visit Wu Qingshan. In her eyes, though Wu Qingshan was not widely known in the religious community, he was a true master. She admitted for the first time that it was he who had taught her to venerate the Kuman Thong.

Though there had always been rumors, Z had never acknowledged them. If the media caught wind of this, a storm would surely sweep through the entertainment industry. She said that two years ago, plagued by scandal, she had reached the lowest point of her career. She had only just come of age at that time.

Z was discreet in her words, and I didn’t press her. Everyone knew the truth: her intimate photos had been exposed, widely circulated, with her expression one of languid pleasure, utterly shattering her innocent public persona. More rumors followed, alleging affairs with multiple men, and she was completely frozen out of show business.

She told me that during that period, she was deeply depressed—so much so that she went days without eating. That was when she developed anorexia and depression, unable to eat or sleep, the weight of her emotions reducing her, a teenager, to a shadow of her former self, her skin sallow and lifeless.

None of this was an exaggeration. Mental illness and psychological stress can indeed ravage a person in mere months. I had seen photos of her from that low point in the papers. At this moment, Charlie sighed, “Those days were so painful. Z tried to end her life more than once.”

When the rumors in Hong Kong became overwhelming, Z had to leave temporarily—Charlie’s idea. She said he was her savior, that if not for his unwavering support, she would never have had a chance to return. After leaving Hong Kong, she stuck close to Charlie, who took her to many psychiatrists, but nothing worked.

Seeing her decline day by day, growing so thin she was little more than skin and bone, Charlie became increasingly desperate. Eventually, by sheer chance, they heard about the Southeast Asian practice of worshipping Kuman Thong. Neither Charlie nor Z believed in such things, but in their desperation, they were willing to try anything.

So, they began visiting temples everywhere, hoping to find a monk or Taoist who could perform the necessary rites. Charlie had heard that venerating a Kuman Thong required the blessing of a high monk or ritual master. Eventually, he learned that Wu Qingshan, during his youth, had studied this practice from Southeast Asian monks. With nothing to lose, they sought him out at his temple in the capital.

Charlie never met Wu Qingshan—he would only see Z. What’s more, Wu Qingshan seemed to know Z was coming, which made Charlie start to believe he was no charlatan.

That day, Z stayed in Wu Qingshan’s room until very late. When she finally emerged, she was carrying a large Kuman Thong doll—much bigger than any Charlie had heard of, the size of a three- or four-month-old baby. When Charlie and Z mentioned it, I immediately recalled the large Kuman Thong doll in Z’s cabinet.

I interrupted, “Don’t you think there’s something strange about that Kuman Thong doll?”

Charlie was taken aback. “You’ve seen it?”

Apparently, Z hadn’t told him about our search through her apartment. Z replied that at first she’d found the oversized doll unsettling—its mouth smiling, but its eyes full of malice. Yet, over time, inexplicably, she came to see only compassion in its face.

She said that Wu Qingshan had warned her: as long as the one venerating the Kuman Thong harbored good intentions, the spirit would be benevolent. So, Z stopped being afraid. I asked what else Wu Qingshan had said. After a moment’s hesitation, Z answered, “Master Wu told me that though the Kuman Thong can be kind, it is still the soul of a child who died unnaturally, trapped and bound. It cannot be kept for long, or it would be unfair to the spirit. He told me to use it for only a year and warned me to return it on time.”

I did some quick calculations—Z had been venerating that doll for two years, far longer than the prescribed period.

I urged her to continue. With a sigh, Z said the Kuman Thong truly was miraculous. After she began worshipping it at home, her appetite and sleep soon improved. Her aging skin recovered, her sunken cheeks filled out again.

Her recovery was nothing short of astonishing.

Not only that, but her career revived as well.

She thought her fans would never forgive her, but with Charlie’s guidance, she made multiple public apologies and gradually won them back.

Just as her career was on the rise, the year was up.

After discussing it with Charlie, neither of them wanted to return the Kuman Thong. They were both intoxicated by their newfound success.

About half a year ago—after a year and a half of worship—Z’s arms suddenly began to show mysterious scratches. Paparazzi even caught her talking to herself. But afterwards, Z had no memory of it, nor did she know how she’d gotten the scratches.

The scratches would heal for a while, then inexplicably reappear.

That was when Charlie and Z began to panic. They rushed to the capital to seek Wu Qingshan’s help.

“What did he say?” I asked.

Z replied, “Master Wu said…the Kuman Thong’s spirit had been bound too long and had grown resentful…”

Wu Qingshan told her that taking back the Kuman Thong would be useless—the spirit was now fixated on her and had to remain by her side. He performed a ritual, telling Z not to be afraid, to continue her daily offerings, and to use an amulet to dispel the spirit’s evil energy.

Indeed, in Z’s apartment, there were incense and amulets.

“Master Wu also said that I absolutely must not abandon the Kuman Thong. Whether it’s a Kuman Thong or a little ghost, casting it away is a grave taboo. If abandoned, the spirit will become a wandering ghost, seeking vengeance.” As Z spoke, her shoulders trembled. “But just a week ago, after seeing the Kuman Thong, Master Wu’s face changed drastically—he said even he couldn’t control it anymore.”

So that was what Z and Wu Qingshan had discussed during their last meeting.

Wu Qingshan appeared to be a victim, but he bore much responsibility himself.

“I was desperate that day. I asked Master Wu what I should do, but after glancing at the Kuman Thong a few times, he hurriedly left, saying he had to seek advice from a great master.” Z said she didn’t know whom he went to find, but I knew that on that day, Wu Qingshan had met with Xuan Yi.

At that moment, Chen Fan returned. He leaned in and whispered a few words in my ear, and my gaze shifted to Charlie…