Chapter 264: Ghostly Murder

2022-05-20

“Step aside, let me through!” the security guard called out. “What happened here?”

I stepped out of the elevator, taking the initiative. “I’m here investigating a case, but a murder just occurred out of nowhere.”

As I spoke, I pulled out my ID. The guard peered at it, looking puzzled. I didn’t give him a chance to ask questions. Instead, I said quickly, “Here’s what we need to do—shut down the elevator on the right, cordon off the area with police tape, and don’t let anyone else onto the top floor. Most importantly, make sure this stretch of surveillance footage is saved.”

While the security team leader was still dazed, I slipped my ID back and patted him on the shoulder. “What I need is the video of this woman—from the moment she left that room up until her death. Got it? Leave a few of your people here to show me to the security room in a minute.”

The security team leader saw how serious I was and hurried to respond. “Understood. But what about her? What’s going on with this person?”

I pointed at Zhao Mingkun. “She’s a professional forensic expert. Once she finishes the autopsy, she’ll arrange transport for the body. You don’t need to worry about that.”

The guard nodded and radioed instructions. The left-side elevator started running, while the right was switched off.

Zhao Mingkun had already pried open the young woman’s other hand.

Rigor mortis had just started to set in—which meant she hadn’t been dead long. That much was clear from the short time the elevator had been running. Plus, XIng Yafang had left only ten minutes ago at most.

But how did the killer manage to gouge out Xing Yafang’s eyes in just those ten minutes? Going by the crime scene, it even looked like the victim had clawed her own eyes out. I just couldn’t figure out how it was possible.

Could it really have been done by a ghost?

Zhao Mingkun pointed at the bag outside the elevator. “That’s Xing Yafang’s bag, right?”

Cheng Lu nodded. “Yeah, that’s her bag.”

Zhao Mingkun walked over to the briefcase. Some of the items inside had already spilled onto the floor—eyebrow pencils, lipstick, and such scattered about. Wearing gloves, Zhao Mingkun picked up the items one by one, studying them closely.

After a moment, she rummaged through the bag again and shook her head. “There’s nothing here. Just jewelry cases, contact lens boxes, cosmetics. Nothing valuable among them.”

She waved her hand and said, “Looks like we’re out of leads for now.”

I nodded, glancing again at the body. Just like the previous victim, there were no other visible injuries.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “Ha! She’s dead, she’s dead! We’re all going to die too. Did you see that? A ghost ripped out her eyes. You all know how Lü Zhiqiu died—she lost both eyes, so her restless spirit can’t find her killer! That’s why everyone involved back then is doomed!”

With that, Luo Ding couldn’t stand it any longer. He shoved open the fire escape door and bolted down the stairs.

Watching Luo Ding vanish, fear swept through the remaining women. Just moments ago, one of them had been arguing with everyone, and now she was lying dead without her eyes. The change was too sudden. None of them wanted to stay, and they pleaded with the men to take them home.

I still had so many questions for these people, but there was no way I could keep everyone here. It looked like I’d have to visit them one by one later. Soon enough, they were all gone. Only Zhao Mingkun, a few guards and I remained, along with the corpse on the floor.

The security guards didn’t dare go near the body—not that anyone could blame them. Even with the hall brightly lit, who wouldn’t be spooked at the thought of touching a body that died so mysteriously at this hour? But Zhao Mingkun and I had seen our share of corpses—if not a hundred, at least eighty. So the job naturally fell to us.

Over the radio, I let them know, and Zhao Mingkun and I took the same elevator the victim had used, while the guards took the other.

As the elevator doors shut, I could still see bloody handprints smeared on the glass.

Inside the elevator, I kept trying to piece it together, replaying how the killer might’ve struck so quickly and escaped.

But after I finished watching the surveillance tape in the monitoring room, an inexplicable fear crept over me. The footage reminded me of that infamous case—the Elisa Lam incident.

Everyone who watched the video was left gaping, speechless.

Fear gripped each and every person in the room.

“Was… was that a ghost killing her?” one of the guards finally whispered.

“Play it again,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

The video started over:

Following my instructions, the security team leader began the recording from the moment Xing Yafang stepped out of the top-floor apartment. On tape, we saw her slam the door behind her and storm off in a rage.

She walked straight to one of the elevators and hit the down button, but it was still on the first floor. Frowning, she checked the floor number and then turned to walk deeper into the hallway.

At the end of the corridor was the restroom. Xing Yafang went inside, and after about two minutes, she reemerged. There were no cameras in there, but with so little time gone by, it wasn’t hard to guess what she’d been doing.

By the time she returned, the elevator still hadn’t arrived. She stood at the door, pressing close, almost like she was using the doors as a mirror. The elevator dinged open—no one inside. Xing Yafang rubbed her eyes, stepped in and pressed the button for the first floor.

The elevator began its descent.

Meanwhile, on the monitor, we saw others leaving their rooms in ones and twos. Some took the other elevator while others waited for Xing Yafang’s car to come up—a bit awkward after all the accusations flying around.

While those others waited, Xing Yafang’s behavior in the elevator started to change.

She pressed her face against the shiny metal doors, peering closely—like she was inspecting part of her face. But then, her expression twisted in terror. It was as though she’d seen something horrific in the reflection.

The next second, she slammed her hands over her eyes.

At the same moment, she started to scream. With the elevator’s five-star soundproofing, no one outside could hear a thing.

There was no sound on the surveillance footage, but we could see her mouth wide open, her face contorted in agony. Even as she screamed, she kept clawing at her own eyes.

Before long, blood covered her entire face.

Even watching it a second time, I still felt a chill crawl up my spine.

In the footage, she pounded desperately on the elevator doors with one hand, the other groping over the control panel. She jabbed at several buttons, but the elevator doors stayed shut.

“Why couldn’t the doors open?” I asked.

The security team leader answered, “Except for the first and top floors—both elevators stop at those—this one only stops at even-numbered floors, and the other only odd numbers. So most of the buttons she pressed didn’t do anything. The only one that worked was the top floor again. That much makes sense, but who can explain what the hell happened to her in the first place? Who would dare stay at this hotel after this?”

I had no answer, just stared at the screen.

Xing Yafang had hit button after button, but the elevator doors wouldn’t budge. By then, her whole body was shaking and her face twisted in terror. She stopped hitting random buttons and kept slamming her fists weakly against the door, until even that was too much. She leaned her head against the panel, using her fists to hold herself upright.

No one outside was calling the elevator, but someone had pressed the down button on the top floor, so the car slowly began to ascend instead. By now Xing Yafang was silent, barely moving. But with the car balanced just so, she still leaned against the doors.

At last, the elevator doors swung open at the top floor.

Without any support, Xing Yafang’s body toppled out, nearly sending the people waiting outside into a panic. Her bag, slung over her arm, flew out onto the floor.

The women outside saw the corpse and ran straight back to the apartment in terror.

The final frame of the video was Zhao Mingkun and me rushing out of the apartment.

The whole recording was just seven minutes, barely any time at all. But what happened in those seven minutes left even me—a grown adult—at a total loss.

In our previous cases, there were no cameras in those old buildings, so we never knew exactly how the killer acted. But this time, the surveillance footage made one thing clear: Xing Yafang was alone in that elevator. And we’d all seen it with our own eyes—she did it to herself.

The monitoring room was dead silent. Everyone still seemed paralyzed by the strangeness of what they’d just watched.

After a long while, Zhao Mingkun looked at me and said quietly, “This time, we saw everything. There really was no killer.”

One of the security guards broke the silence. “Earlier, there was a guy saying something about ghosts and how one ripped out her eyes… Watching this video, is it possible? Could it really have been a ghost? It’s just too bizarre.”

A ghostly murder?