Chapter 177: The Stray Cats and the Girl

2022-05-20

This was the thirteenth time the girl had watched a whole gang of stray cats parade past her window. Each time, she’d rise up on tiptoe, hands gripping the balcony banister, her gaze trailing behind those strays, every one painted with its own colors.

When the cats disappeared through the hole in the old wall, it felt like her heart slipped away with them. She’d sit frozen by the window, eyes vacant as she stared up at the wide blue. No birds crossed the sky, but she knew they had flown over. And as for her? She felt like a canary, trapped in a tiny room.

She let herself down from the banister, standing absentminded on the balcony. Her home was on the third floor. The balcony had never been sealed, and sometimes she wondered if she’d even die if she jumped. After all, she’d once seen a cat leap right off this balcony.

She’d worried sick at the time, but after a shake or two, the cat simply strutted off, unfazed.

She turned to look at her piano—a big, grand one right in her living room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a woman’s thickly accented voice snapped. “Day after day, you waste time staring off instead of practicing piano. Look at Wang Xiaoming next door—already passed Grade 8 at his age. Get back to it. And what’s with all these dead flies lately? Buzzing everywhere, driving me crazy.”

A man chimed in, “I heard Boss Wang from down the street went missing.”

“Which Boss Wang?” the woman shot back.

The man chucked his clothes onto the couch. “That woman boss.”

“Oh.” The woman rolled her eyes. “If she left, then she left. Probably ran off with some man, so what? What, do you feel sorry for her or something? You ever see what she wears? She acts like her own family can’t even afford to buy her new clothes. Stop sitting there, go make dinner!”

As she barked orders, the woman swatted at flies and slammed shut all the windows in the house.

Soon, the sound of piano music floated from the room, sweet and beautiful.

But no one knew what the girl was really feeling.

She stood at the window, wishing to the strays below: Cats, could you take me with you someday?

Day after day she stared at that pitch-black hole in the wall, and at night she’d dream of becoming a kitten, slipping away through that very hole. She adored those cats, but once night fell, she couldn’t help being scared. At night, the cats seemed to become vengeful spirits, howling in the dark.

More than once, when moonlight spilled onto the balcony, she caught strange shadows flickering across her curtains.

And then, the shadows would let out cat-cries. Only then did she realize—there were cats out on her balcony. Most nights, those wild strays would brawl out there, letting loose these eerie, haunting yowls— sometimes like a woman’s scream, other times like a baby’s crying.

Every time, she’d dive under her blanket, trying not to listen. She couldn’t help but wonder—how could such cute animals make such terrifying sounds? It was nothing like a housecat’s meow. These were wild, shrill, almost desperate. Each time it happened, she’d lock the balcony door tight and try not to think about what was happening outside.

Sometimes the girl wondered, where did all these strays go every day? Did someone out there take care of them? And who would that be? A boy, maybe? An uncle? Maybe a kind big sister, a friendly aunt, or even a gentle old man. Anything seemed possible.

That day, with both parents at work, the little girl skipped her piano practice, waiting on the balcony instead.

A huge crowd of strays still marched past downstairs.

This time, a man dressed head-to-toe in black strode right through the middle of the cats. The girl’s eyes widened—she’d never seen this man before. He moved on all fours just like the cats. She just gaped, speechless.

The man spotted her. He grinned up at the girl, then, surrounded by cats, ducked into the wall’s old hole. The cats followed, and in a blink, they’d all vanished. She couldn’t see a thing past the wall. Who was that man? What was on the other side?

Curiosity is maybe the greatest gift life gives us—every kid has it at some point, though some lose it when they get older. Some never do. If her parents had seen what she saw, they might’ve thought the man was crazy.

For several days afterward, she kept seeing the same thing.

It really felt like there was a secret hidden just behind the wall.

One day, the man stopped and called out to her: “Come with us.”

She didn’t answer, but she dreamt about it all night long. What was really on the other side of that wall? She longed to know.

That night, more shadows danced across her curtains, and those bone-chilling noises came back—women screaming, crying, sometimes just normal cat wails. She remembered one piece she’d played on the piano. It was called Dirge Concerto.

By now, the neighbors had gotten used to all this noise. Some had tried to chase off the strays, but no matter what they did, nothing worked. Maybe this was the cats’ home, not people’s. After half a month of this, everyone just accepted it.

They yowled into the night until finally the noise faded away.

Next morning, the girl was surprised—her mom hadn’t woken her up for piano practice. By noon, her mom still hadn’t returned. Hungry, she still crawled out to the balcony. She waited and waited, but today no strays appeared.

What could have happened?

As dusk fell, neither of her parents had come home. The girl opened the door.

She stood at the mouth of the pitch-black hole, crouched, and peered inside, but saw nothing.

In that moment, she decided to crawl through.

The story ends abruptly there. Nothing more was ever written.

When people read this story, it left a strange, sickly feeling in their gut—like they’d swallowed a fly. Compared to the last piece, this one was written in third person, the author holding back, simply describing a little girl and the stray cats she saw.

“But the real question is, who died?” Team Leader Shao sat at the table, his tone slow and heavy.

Everyone stayed silent. Team Leader Li said, “I think the bigger mystery is, where exactly does this story take place?”

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The two team leaders exchanged glances but kept their thoughts to themselves. One kept fiddling with his teacup, the other chain-smoked.

Both our teams sat there in tense silence, eyes on the table, not sure what to say.

After a moment, I decided to break the ice. “No need to overthink it. Whoever isn’t mentioned again in the story probably died. Look, from the very start, we know there’s a missing woman boss. That could mean she died. Then, we see the girl’s parents leave for work but never come back—they might be dead too.”

Everyone turned to me.

I went on, “Aside from the girl and the man in black who moves like a cat—one’s our protagonist, the other’s almost certainly the killer. If, as we suspect, the murderer writes a story and then follows it up with a killing, that little girl could be next in danger.”

Team Leader Shao slapped the table. “If the woman boss vanished, then her shop’s got to be empty somewhere. Search all of Dongxing City—there must be a store with no one running it right now.”

Team Leader Li took a drag of his cigarette. “If that’s the case, we’re looking at a massive manhunt. How the heck do we—”

“Investigate!” Team Leader Shao told Mary. “If it’s a legitimate store, it’ll be on the books. Should be easy to find.”

Mary nodded and started digging into the business registry database. Half an hour later, the rising numbers finally stopped.

Mary scrolled through the list, counting, “Ones place, tens, hundreds… in total, 102,321 businesses. Big and small.”

Team Leader Li shook his head. “A hundred thousand… Even if we split the workload, it’d take days. Plus, last case, there was only one day between the story showing up and the person dying. Where do we even start?”

I interrupted, “No need to check every store. The story mentioned their home—an old building. Most of Dongxing City’s gone modern; the only old district left is the western one. And buildings with open balconies? Not many. Those won’t be taller than seven floors!”

Team Leader Shao told Mary, “Forget the database. Call the Western District, tell them to look for open-balcony buildings with fewer than seven stories—move fast.”

“What should we do then?” Xiao Liu asked.

Everyone stared at Xiao Liu. No one answered.

I said, “Analyze. Figure out what the story’s really trying to tell us. And who’s going to die next?”