Chapter 079: Conspiracy? You Must Be Careful
I rummaged through the room and found a saw. From the outside, there was nothing unusual about the Kuman Thong doll, but I decided to cut it open and take a look. This Kuman Thong figurine might just be the key to the case. I considered turning it over to the police, but something the little ghost had said made me resolve otherwise.
I carefully began sawing from the top of the Kuman Thong's head. The wood was brittle and dry, not damp at all, so it was easy to cut through. I split the doll's face clean in half. I had thought it was solid wood, but once it was open, I discovered a small, square cavity at the center of its abdomen, just about the size of a palm.
This wood must have been glued together; otherwise, there was no way a hollow space could have been carved out inside. And what’s more, inside was a photograph. If there was glue, there would be seams, but the entire surface was painted, making the seams invisible from the outside.
The photograph slipped to the floor. Frowning, I bent down and picked it up. When I saw what was on it, I was utterly stunned.
The person in the photo—was me!
This picture must have been taken a few years ago; I had a vague recollection of it. I never expected to find a photo of myself hidden inside the Kuman Thong. A strange thought struck me: actress Z offered daily incense to this doll—was she really worshipping the Kuman Thong, or was it me in the photograph?
But my astonishment went far beyond that. On the photo, written in blood-red characters, was a chilling message: as soon as I appear, kill me. The sight of it brought back what Yunqing had told me before I left the Harbor District. She had revealed a secret of the Sansong Monastery, on the condition that I not investigate Yun Gao.
Yunqing had once seen a photo of me behind the Forbidden Gate at Sansong Monastery, also inscribed with ominous words—if I returned to the Harbor District, I was to be killed. She had found many other photos as well. In the year or two that followed, there had been a string of deaths in the Harbor District, each seemingly accidental, but only Yunqing knew that the victims were all those whose faces had appeared in the photos.
That was why Yunqing had always urged me to leave the Harbor District.
I was speechless; everything Yunqing had said was true. The photograph inside the Kuman Thong was likely the very one she’d seen behind the Forbidden Gate. The little ghost had remarked that the wood smelled familiar—perhaps the material also came from Sansong Monastery.
And with Wu Qingshan visiting Xuan Yi, all signs pointed to a connection between this Kuman Thong and Sansong Monastery.
Wu Qingshan had given the Kuman Thong to actress Z—so why was my photo inside? Perhaps only Wu Qingshan and the people of Sansong Monastery knew the answer. I hastily packed up the sawed-open doll. Just as I was preparing to leave, I caught sight of a figure flashing past the window again.
By the time I opened the window to look, the figure had vanished. But this time, there was no anonymous letter left on the sill. Narrowing my eyes, I shut the window. Then I distinctly heard footsteps outside the door. I pulled the little ghost to one side and called out, “Who’s there?”
No one answered, but I was certain someone was standing outside.
Still holding the saw, I flung the door open and swiftly pressed my hand down on the person’s shoulder, the saw’s teeth against their throat—one slip and it would cut deep.
“If I hadn’t stopped myself, you could already be dead. Do you understand?” I released my grip. Standing outside the door was Xiaomei.
The weather was bitterly cold, yet her clothes were thin, and her cheeks were flushed from the chill. She didn’t seem to care at all. She glanced around, then smiled. “I know.”
I asked, “Why didn’t you answer when I called out from inside?”
Xiaomei replied, “If you knew it was me, would you still see me?”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She asked again, “Will you always see me, no matter what happens?”
There was an unspoken meaning in her words. I asked what she meant, but she wouldn’t say. She glanced about the room, asking if she could come in and sit down. Before I could answer, the little ghost shouted, “No!” Xiaomei looked at the little ghost, smiled, and didn’t seem to mind.
I asked if she knew the little ghost’s identity—she shook her head. I asked if she knew anything about the Kuman Thong case—she shook her head again.
“If you won’t say anything, why come to see me?” My voice grew cold.
She hesitated, then urged me to find a safer place to stay. I laughed and asked what was unsafe about this place, but inside, I was deeply unsettled. Xiaomei seemed to know I was in danger here. In truth, this place was no longer safe: the figure flitting past the window, and the person who had used sleeping incense on us before—all these suggested a grave threat.
Xiaomei shook her head. “It’s not safe. Fang Han, you don’t need to know too much. Just remember, I won’t harm you.”
I scoffed, “Then why are you getting close to me?”
She answered, “I can’t tell you.”
Angry, I snapped, “Are you out of your mind? You can’t tell me anything, yet you approach me. Is someone holding a knife to your throat, forcing you to get close to me and keep secrets?”
Her expression grew complicated. She simply repeated that I should move somewhere safer as soon as possible, then turned to leave. I called after her, “Do you know who sent me the anonymous letter?”
Xiaomei turned back, her face saying clearly that she knew nothing.
“Fang Han, be careful.”
Enraged, I slammed the door shut. The little ghost took my hand, urging me not to be angry.
I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Being deliberately kept in the dark was infuriating—especially when Xiaomei was so blatant about it.
Her appearances were becoming more frequent, and though they were no longer as bizarre as the times she’d shown up in the Harbor District, she was all the more mysterious for it.
After a moment’s thought, I gathered my most important belongings, including the two guns and ammunition hidden in the box under my bed. I slung a large backpack over my shoulder and left home. The little ghost asked if we were never coming back. I patted her head and said we wouldn’t be returning for a while.
This place was indeed no longer safe.
I felt as if I had been swept into a vast whirlpool of conspiracy.
The little ghost and I went to the hospital. Visiting hours were long over by nightfall, but after much dawdling, I finally managed to slip into Luo Feng’s room. He was awake and told me he planned to be discharged the next day.
I asked about his wound. Luo Feng shook his head and said he was fine.
His face was pale—hardly fit for discharge—but I didn’t press him. I knew he wouldn’t listen if I tried to stop him. Keeping Luo Feng cooped up in the hospital would be worse than sending him to his death.
I told Luo Feng everything that had happened over the past two days. He looked utterly astonished.
“Someone has even been lurking around your house? That’s too dangerous.” He thought for a moment, then suggested I stay at his place. Luo Feng didn’t have many brothers in the capital, but there were enough to provide protection. For the little ghost’s safety, I didn’t refuse.
I asked Luo Feng to call his brothers in the Harbor District to investigate the secular disciples and priests of Sansong Monastery—apart from Xuan Yi, had any of them left the district?
The Kuman Thong was connected to Sansong Monastery, and I feared this case, like the Ghost Banquet, was the work of their people.
Luo Feng agreed at once. After hanging up, he seemed to have something on his mind. He glanced at the little ghost, and I immediately caught on. I took her to the other bed in the room. After a while, she finally fell asleep.
Only then did Luo Feng speak. “Someone’s getting close to you, even using sleeping incense. Do you think that person might want to harm you?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
All these years, I’d been searching for him. Now that I finally had a lead, I’d gotten swept up in the Ghost Banquet case in the Harbor District before I could find him.
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