Chapter 263: The Death of Xing Yafang

2022-05-20

Xing Yafang slammed her hand heavily on the desk and shouted at the top of her lungs. By the time we snapped out of it, she had already stormed out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind her, and she was gone. The rest of us finally went quiet, just staring at each other in uneasy silence—no one wanted to argue anymore.

Wang Yikai glanced at everyone and then turned to me. “Seven years ago, Lü Zhiqiu was brutally murdered at the construction site. If we claimed we didn’t know anything about a living person dying on-site, that’d be a lie. But just because we were there doesn’t mean we’re the killers. I’m sure you’ve got all our contact info, right?”

The old woman did give us everyone’s contact details and their current addresses.

I nodded.

Wang Yikai, hearing my response, raised his voice for everyone to hear. “I was class monitor back then, you all know that. Everyone here lives and works in Dongxing City now. If there’s any problem, feel free to get in touch. But honestly, I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

“I’m leaving first.” Wang Yikai looked at me, then said, “A lot’s happened and it’s all in the past. Why dredge it back up? We’ve all got regular lives now, so let’s just bring this to an end.”

With that, Wang Yikai walked out the door.

The others started saying more or less the same thing. Each gave us a brief explanation and left quietly, one after another. Only Luo Ding stayed, curled up in the corner of the room and refusing to leave. It was obvious that the rest had no desire to stick around, but Luo Ding seemed terrified to go home. Something strange must really be going on at his place.

What a class reunion this turned out to be. Everyone came in ready to relive their youth, but by the end, it became the source of a seven-year-old murder’s shadow. If they’d known it would end up like this, those thirteen classmates would’ve never agreed to the reunion—no matter what.

I exchanged a glance with Zhao Mingkun. Zhao looked at Luo Ding, who was still crouched in the corner, and asked, “So, what about him?”

I paused for a moment, then quietly told Zhao Mingkun, “Where do you think we should stay tonight? Honestly, I think Luo Ding’s place isn’t a bad option. He probably knows a few more things we could use. What do you think?”

Zhao Mingkun nodded.

I walked over to Luo Ding, crouched down beside him, and said gently, “Luo Ding, since you said there’s something unclean in your house, why don’t we come stay tonight and check it out?”

“Yeah, there’s a ghost. No—no, not just my house.” Luo Ding’s face was ashen, his voice shaking. “Ghosts are everywhere. No matter where we go, Lü Zhiqiu’s ghost follows us. Anyone who saw her body is doomed to a violent death. Not just me, all my old classmates, even you—now you’re haunted too. All of us, we’re all going to die.”

As he spoke, Luo Ding trembled all over uncontrollably.

I frowned, but even from Luo Ding’s ramblings there were things to pick apart. For example, after seven years, why was he so convinced it was Lü Zhiqiu’s ghost haunting him, not some random wandering spirit?

Seven years is long enough for most people to forget who Lü Zhiqiu even was, but not Luo Ding. Clearly, there’s something else he isn’t telling us.

I thought for a second, then asked, “Luo Ding, did you see something seven years ago? Why are you so sure it’s Lü Zhiqiu? Why do you believe she’s killing anyone who saw her body?”

Hugging his knees tight, Luo Ding looked sideways at me and Zhao Mingkun. “I just know. I just know.”

“Seven years ago, did you ever ask Lü Zhiqiu out?” I pressed him. “Was it you who killed her? If not, why are you so terrified of Lü Zhiqiu? If you weren’t involved, why would she want to kill you?”

“Because…”

Luo Ding had barely managed a word before it was drowned out by an even louder shout from the hallway—shrieks, both men’s and women’s, rang out. All three of us whipped our heads toward the door, just as it burst open and several women rushed in, screaming.

The terror on their faces was unmistakable. None of us had any idea what had happened outside.

“What happened?”

I hurried to grab one of the women and ask.

Zhang Xue was still frantic and panicked. I had to ask several times before she finally stammered out, “Outside, in the elevator, someone’s dead. Xing Yafang—Xing Yafang is dead in the elevator!”

Zhao Mingkun and I exchanged a look, then rushed out. Down the corridor, a crowd had gathered at the elevator doors, craning to see inside.

“What—what happened to her?”

“Call a doctor! Someone call a doctor!”

Everyone was shouting at once. Zhao Mingkun and I squeezed through to see what all the commotion was about. There, at the elevator entrance, a woman lay sprawled on the floor. Her upper body was outside the elevator while her lower half remained inside, blocking the door so it kept trying—and failing—to close.

A pool of fresh blood seeped out from near her head.

Judging by her clothes, the victim was none other than Xing Yafang.

By now, Zhao Mingkun had already put on gloves and was carefully rolling Xing Yafang onto her back. As soon as he did, horrified gasps rang out around us again: both her eye sockets were empty. Zhao Mingkun quickly checked her pulse, searching for any hope.

“Take her to the hospital! Hurry!” Wang Yikai was the first to react, shouting instructions.

But Zhao Mingkun shook his head. “It’s too late. She’s gone.”

The chaos slowly died down as everyone stared at Zhao Mingkun kneeling on the ground, holding the body of a woman who no longer had her eyes. No one could have imagined that, in the few minutes after leaving the room, Xing Yafang would end up like this. And I never expected the killer would strike so brazenly, right under our noses.

Xing Yafang had been the first to leave, with everyone else following at intervals. If one of the remaining twelve was the killer, it simply didn’t add up.

I got to my feet and stepped into the elevator.

The wall in front of me didn’t seem to reveal anything at first. But when I turned around, I saw it—the inside of the elevator door was covered in bloody handprints, showing and vanishing with every attempt the door made to close. The panel of elevator buttons was splattered with blood as well.

I closed my eyes for a second. I could imagine how it must have gone.

In all likelihood, only Xing Yafang and the killer were in the elevator. Xing Yafang probably didn’t find anything odd about the person behind her. They just waited calmly for the right moment. The instant the doors closed, her fate was sealed.

The elevator descended for a bit. Then the killer struck from behind. Caught completely off guard, Xing Yafang’s hands flew to her bleeding eyes. Blood streamed down, staining her fingers red.

She couldn’t see anything, blinded and terrified. In desperation, she frantically slammed buttons, hoping the doors would open. Meanwhile her other hand pounded the elevator door over and over, leaving smeared handprints all over the controls and panels.

The killer dragged her back. When the elevator finally opened again, he slipped out, leaving Xing Yafang stranded behind.

The elevator climbed to the top floor once more, but Xing Yafang had already lost consciousness. As the doors opened, she collapsed forward, ended up with half her body inside the car and the rest outside. That’s why her body was lying there, facedown.

I opened my eyes. The whole scenario had flashed through my mind the second I walked into the elevator, but thinking it over carefully, I realized there was something off. The Royal Garden Hotel has plenty of guests each day—the top floor may be booked out, but other floors weren’t empty.

If the killer bumped into someone else trying to use the elevator just as they left, they would have been caught on the spot. Seems unlikely anyone would take such a huge risk. There was also a major flaw: the killer couldn’t possibly know who’d exit the reunion first or guarantee Xing Yafang would be alone. What if a man left first—he might have put up a fight.

And most importantly, there’s surveillance footage in the elevator. The killer would know this—and probably wouldn’t risk it. If that wasn’t how the murder happened, how did they do it?

By now, the body had been carried out of the elevator.

I stood at the elevator doors, blocking them from closing. Just then, Zhao Mingkun lifted the dead woman’s hand. I glanced over—her hand was clenched so tightly that something flat poked out between her fingers. Zhao Mingkun had to use quite a bit of effort to pry her fist open.

As I was lost in thought, the doors of the other elevator slid open.

A group of security guards emerged. Their leader said, “We’re here. This elevator’s stopped—looks like something’s happened…”