Chapter 46: The Two Hearts of Man

Chapter 46: The Two Hearts of Man

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

As Gao Ming kneeled there, he found himself grappling with a profound question: “What distinguishes a human from a ghost?”

It was hard for him to tell the difference in this intense moment. Both humans and ghosts seemed to be shrouded in a deep sense of fear, each terrified at the prospect of losing one another.

Before this moment, Gao Ming had only seen the encroachment of the shadow world into reality as a catastrophic event. He was deeply concerned that the video game he had developed might end up wreaking havoc on the entire city. However, now he was beginning to entertain other, more complex thoughts.

In Brother Zhao Xi’s case, his return had sent waves of terror through all the inhabitants of the apartment building. The air was filled with a mixture of curses, sobbing, and desperate cries for help due to the incident. But here, Gong Xi also made his return without causing harm to others. Despite his grandmother’s evident confusion and her failure to recognize him, she remained patient, continuing to wait for him with unwavering hope.

Gao Ming pondered to himself, “Who is responsible for all this chaos?”

Meanwhile, Gong Xi let go of his grandmother’s hand and started to arrange various photographs around the room. “We must act quickly,” he urged. “The building manager could return at any moment.”

Gao Ming asked, “Should we move to a different floor for safety?”

“No,” Gong Xi replied firmly while he packed photographs and assorted items into a large box. “For now, we’ll take refuge in the room adorned with white lanterns. The building manager is too frightened to step foot in there.” Gong Xi offered Gao Ming a chance to join them, mentioning Gao Ming’s earlier altercation with the building manager, which might put him at risk of being pursued.

“Let’s find a hiding place for now,” agreed Gao Ming, recalling the numerous rooms he had seen with red lanterns in the Sishui Apartment Complex. This was his first time encountering one with a white lantern.

After they finished packing, Gong Xi hoisted his grandmother onto his back and dragged the heavy box out of the room. He peeked cautiously around the corridor, then signaled to Gao Ming, “Quick! We must enter the room with the white lantern without being seen.”

They hurried across the corridor. Along the way, Gong Xi lit some paper money from the box, moving swiftly through the dimly lit passageways.The roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.

As the ashes of the burnt paper money fluttered in the shadows, a white lantern suddenly appeared, hanging outside a rental room situated midway down the corridor.

“Quick, inside!” Gong Xi urged.

When they opened the door, they were immediately greeted by a bone-chilling cold that made Gao Ming’s hair stand on end.

“This... this is the room where that horrific family massacre occurred!” exclaimed Zhu Miao Miao, her voice quivering as she clutched a fire axe.

“Yes, this is the very room,” Gong Xi confirmed, his demeanor turning ghostly. As he stepped into the room, his presence seemed to fade significantly, his complexion becoming ashen and death-like.

Gong Xi carefully placed the box on the ground and began taking out various ritual offerings, arranging them meticulously at the bedroom door. He then knelt down with a solemn expression and began to recite a respectful incantation: “This house has its master, we notify all directions. Those who should leave, leave; those who should come, come. The house deity returns to its place, unwanted spirits must avoid, grain and food offered for generations.”

After reverently bowing several times, Gong Xi carefully placed a wooden plaque amidst the array of offerings laid out in front of them.

“The agent who consumed the flesh might be dead by now,” Wu Bo speculated, moving towards the door. Behind him was a modest altar, indicating his annual rituals to appease the spirits in this haunted apartment unit. Initially intended for his peace of mind, these rituals had ironically become his salvation when the ghostly tales became a startling reality.

“What’s really happening in this building? Why are some residents turning into grotesque forms, others becoming ghosts, and why are some investigators being offered up as human sacrifices, taken away to the butcher shop?” Having finally found someone alive to converse with, Gao Ming was determined to extract as much information as possible from Wu Bo.

“Lousy luck, bumping into you,” Wu Bo grumbled, wrapping his tattered coat around himself in the chilly room. “Take a look at this,” he said, pulling out an old DV camera from beneath the altar.

The camera displayed a recording of a family of four celebrating a birthday. The father was filming the moment they lit the birthday candles when an unexpected knock at the door interrupted them.

The mother, curious, went to answer the door, only to be followed by screams and the sounds of a frantic scuffle. The camera was then knocked to the ground.

The footage captured the aftermath inside the house – blood was everywhere, and the family of four lay lifeless in their own home. Neighbors, alerted by the commotion, came to investigate, only to fall victim to the assailant as well.

In total, eight individuals from two families were mercilessly slaughtered in the apartment.

The killer, instead of fleeing the scene, began drawing bizarre symbols throughout the house, ultimately ending his own life.

“The family massacre case? How did you come to possess this footage?” Despite his experience dealing with the harsh realities of a maximum-security prison, Gao Ming was deeply disturbed by the video’s content.

“I was on duty that night, keeping watch over the area. I even crossed paths with the murderer as he was ascending the staircase,” Wu Bo confessed, his eyes brimming with a deep sense of remorse. “Had I been more vigilant and sensed that something was amiss, perhaps I could have prevented the dreadful incident.”

“Why didn’t you hand over this video footage to the authorities?” Gao Ming inquired, clearly perplexed by the situation.

“Just keep watching,” Old Wu Bo insisted, directing their attention back to the ongoing playback of the DV. To their surprise, the first individuals to arrive at the crime scene were not law enforcement officers, but rather representatives from the Hanhai Charity Association.

They entered the premises with a sense of familiarity as if they were already aware of the events that had transpired. They proceeded to retrieve an item from the body of the deceased assailant.

“This situation is somehow linked to the Hanhai Charity Association, but there’s no concrete proof,” Wu Bo admitted, his voice tinged with fear. “With the perpetrator now dead, the investigation hit a dead end. Had I not secured this DV, there’s a high likelihood that this crucial piece of evidence would have been conveniently lost. The influence of the Hanhai Charity Association is not to be underestimated. They have constructed schools, hospitals, and various welfare projects, bringing hope to innumerable impoverished individuals.”

“The Hanhai Charity Association was once renowned for its genuine philanthropic work, but I’m not so sure that’s still the case,” Gao Ming commented, his thoughts not so much on the charity itself but rather on Situ An, a person of particular interest in their investigation.

“Ever since the completion of the Sishui Apartments, the charity has been covertly transporting various items into the building, mainly items associated with the deceased,” Wu Bo disclosed, demonstrating a level of astuteness that belied his seemingly naive exterior. He had been meticulously monitoring all activities. In front of him, he carefully arranged two red candles and four white ones. “The charity workers have been deliberately summoning spirits here, and their efforts have been successful. The most malevolent spirits in this building include the perpetrator of the family massacre, a ghost whose murderous instincts have endowed it with a heart of flesh and blood, and a clay idol of the Flesh Immortal, revered by the residents, which has been animated by their collective beliefs and thoughts, forming a heart.”

Wu Bo then turned his attention to the white candles. “Besides these two entities, the residents here can be categorized into four distinct groups,” he explained. “Influenced by the Flesh Immortal, each group manifests different traits: life, death, desire, and retribution.”

“The life group is like us, outsiders who have retained our human essence; the desire group resembles that sales agent, whose deepest cravings have been awakened, their flesh altered, binding them here eternally as prisoners of the Flesh Immortal; the death group includes those nearing the end of their lives, enveloped in darkness and marked with black letters, sustaining themselves solely by consuming offerings from the Flesh Immortal’s altar; and the retribution group consists of numerous aggrieved spirits of victims, trapped here and viewed as ominous presences.”

Wu Bo then pushed the white candles aside with caution. “These four groups of residents are unsettling, but not the most frightening aspect of this situation. I believe that if we eliminate the two most dangerous spirits, we might find a way out.”

“Old man, there’s another factor you might be overlooking,” Gao Ming pointed out, reaching for one of the red candles. “Situ An, the vice-chairman of the Hanhai Charity Association, is also present within this building.”