Chapter 250: The Little Girl in Red

2022-05-20

A few more people rushed out into the hallway right after, probably chasing after the woman who just fled.

As soon as we stepped into the hallway, we heard an old woman’s cries: “Heavens above, this is a curse! My poor little one, how did it come to this? Heaven has truly cursed us, there’s no justice in this world!”

Then came the sound of a woman’s wailing, gut-wrenching and raw.

Zhao Mingkun and I exchanged a look and started up the stairs.

We’d barely made it to the third floor when we saw a crowd packed into the hallway.

Zhao Mingkun tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “The address on Hu Pei’s ID—this is the third floor.”

A sinking feeling crept up in my chest. That piercing scream left no doubt—something terrible must’ve happened. The two of us hurried forward. I pulled out my ID and called out, “Excuse me, step aside, what’s happened here?”

The crowd didn’t know what was going on, but they saw our IDs and quickly made way for us. But when Zhao Mingkun and I reached the doorway, both of us froze. I finally understood why the old woman was crying so desperately.

A little girl stood straight-backed against the wall, dressed in a bright red dress. She looked about four feet tall. The floor tiles beneath her were streaked with blood, vivid red on stark white tile—so bright you could almost smell the iron tang from the doorway.

You could see little bloody footprints on the white tile, too. The girl was barefoot, and it was clear she’d walked through her own blood. All this blood must’ve come from the girl herself.

We looked at the girl’s face. Both her eyes were missing, black blood seeping slowly from the empty sockets. Bloody red fingerprints covered her cheeks. You could imagine her stumbling sightless, leaving trails of blood across the floor.

The girl cried out, wandering through the blood-stained room, desperate to find her mother. As she grew weaker and fear took over, she found the wall and leaned against it. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. And in that terror, she died.

She died standing up.

What made it all even more horrifying, someone had sliced her mouth open all the way to her ears. From a distance, it almost looked like she’d been forced into a grotesque smile.

Her hands were balled into fists against the wall—even in death, her fingernails had pierced deep into the plaster.

I’ve seen countless corpses, some more disturbing than this, some that would turn anyone’s stomach. But never have I felt this furious. She was just a kid, only seven or eight years old, who knew nothing of the world, murdered in her own home with such cruelty.

“A curse on us,” the old woman slumped outside muttered.

Scattered vegetables and fruit rolled across the floor, covered in dust—like they were mocking us, reminding everyone that a home once full of warmth was now filled only with blood and fear. And looming over everyone was the same question: Who killed the little girl? And why use such a monstrous method?

I lowered my voice and asked, “Does anyone know what really happened here?”

Neighbors glanced at each other, shaking their heads. Finally, an older man spoke up: “None of us saw what happened. We just got here ourselves. Only a few minutes ago, the child’s mother suddenly started yelling.”

No wonder Zhao Mingkun had been watching that woman for so long earlier. He must’ve thought she looked familiar. And now, the frantic woman who just ran outside had to be Hu Pei’s wife.

The man looked pale, clearly shaken by what he’d seen. “She kept screaming about ghosts—saying a ghost came for revenge. Then Zhao Dama started crying and we all rushed over. We found this… but nobody dared get too close.”

Seeing the little girl like that made me think of the photo on that phone. The woman in that picture also had her eyes missing. Whatever’s happening here, the two cases must be connected. But what kind of hatred could drive someone to do this to a little girl?

I pulled on my gloves and, with Zhao Mingkun, stepped carefully through the blood to the girl’s side.

I gently touched her body. Her limbs were still limp, with no rigor mortis, meaning she hadn’t been dead long—maybe an hour or two at most. That’s all I could tell. If only Guan Zengbin were here, he’d probably spot more clues.

From what I could see, only her eyes and mouth had been wounded. No other injuries were obvious. The cause of death was unclear.

But the girl’s mother clearly knew something, or she wouldn’t have cried about a ghost taking revenge. Looks like Hu Pei had sent his wife and daughter here out of fear of vengeful spirits. Yet Hu Pei’s only been dead eight hours, and now his daughter is dead too.

So what about Hu Pei’s wife? Could she be in danger as well?

Shaking my head, I asked, “Is this Hu Pei’s home?”

The old man nodded and said, “Yeah, this is Hu Pei’s place. That’s his mother out there. And this child—this is Hu Pei’s daughter, Hu Xiaoxue. Wait, you two—how did you know that?”

I sighed, looking at Hu Pei’s mother sobbing on the floor, and said softly, “Because Hu Pei—Hu Pei is dead too. We’re here to tell you about it. None of us expected his daughter to die as well.”

“My son?”

The old woman managed just those words before collapsing. People hurried to revive her, massaging her arms and legs. It took a while, but finally she woke up. As soon as she realized what she’d heard, she burst into fresh sobs. Two devastating losses within minutes—how could anyone survive such grief?

All I could do was try to comfort her. “Ma’am, right now the most important thing is catching whoever did this. Do you know anyone who had a grudge against your son?”

She shook her head, crying, “My son was top of his class and never argued with anyone. He was so kind to people—how could anyone hate him that much? My daughter-in-law was raised right, always taking care of the home and children. Why would anyone hate her?”

“Heaven has no eyes!” the old woman suddenly screamed. “Heaven has no eyes! My granddaughter is gone, my son is gone—if there’s justice, why didn’t I die too?”

Her heartbreak was obvious. There was no way we’d get any useful information from her now.

Zhao Mingkun tugged at my arm. “Someone must’ve called the police. We can’t stay here much longer.”

I nodded. “Don’t touch the body. Let’s check the area—she hasn’t been dead long, so maybe we can find something. Someone else is bound to show up; make sure nobody disturbs the scene, and help the grandma, too.”

The old man nodded. “We’re all neighbors. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

We were about to leave when someone suddenly said, “Hey, wasn’t there an incident about eight years ago?”

I frowned, searching the crowd for the man who’d spoken. He looked about forty, wearing glasses.

“Yeah?” I turned to him. “What about it?”

He began, “Must’ve been seven or eight years back. Hu Pei was in his twenties, just started out as a designer, working at a construction site for experience. There was some safety accident because of his mistake and a woman died.”

What he said caught my attention. Someone had died—a woman. Could it be the same woman? The photo on the phone had a similar construction site background. Everything about this was lining up. Too bad Zhao Mingkun and I hadn’t snapped a picture of that photo, or we could’ve shown it to this guy—he might’ve recognized her.

“Do you remember what the woman who died looked like?” I asked.

But then Hu Pei’s mother interrupted: “That accident had nothing to do with my son! She died from her own mistake, maybe trying to scam money. We paid out one point two million—nearly ten years ago and that much money! That whole thing is long over, not our fault. If you don’t know what happened, don’t talk!”

The man bristled. “It happened, whether you like it or not! Didn’t her family come demand an answer? I still remember. No one knows for sure how that woman died. You folks say it was an accident, but who’s to say your son didn’t kill her?”

I locked eyes with Zhao Mingkun. There was more to this story than we realized.