209: Chapter 209: Things You Can’t Talk About After Dark (Three more chapters for monthly ticket) 209: Chapter 209: Things You Can’t Talk About After Dark (Three more chapters for monthly ticket) “Old man, did you lock this door?”
Han Fei looked up at the elderly man on the stairs, his face showing the purest, kindest expression, but his hand reached into his pocket, clutching a stun gun.
The elderly man seed not to have heard Han Fei’s words; he was very old, with a face full of age spots, one hand behind his back, the other holding a birdcage without any birds.
“Sir?
Can you hear ?” Just as Han Fei was about to approach the man, the elder turned around abruptly and started to slowly walk upstairs.
As the old man moved upward, Han Fei noticed two thin feathers lingering on the hand that was just freed, suggesting he had just used it to kill the bird in the cage.
“What a strange person.”
Seeing such a peculiar old man, most people’s first reaction would be to stay away, but Han Fei, sensing sothing off, imdiately ran up the stairs.
“Sir, let help you ho,” he offered.
Han Fei walked warmly up to the old man and took his arm to assist him, upon which the elder’s body notably stiffened.
“I’m here filming, and if I have caused you any inconvenience, I apologize.”
Han Fei was exceedingly polite with every phrase, and though the elderly man was uncomfortable, he did not send Han Fei away.
He escorted the old man all the way to the fifth floor.
The man stopped at his apartnt door, reluctant to enter.
He turned his head, saw that Han Fei had no intention of leaving, and said,
“Sir, do you rember the Writer who lived on the fourth floor?”
Han Fei had the look of soone who would not leave without an answer, and finally, after a long pause at the doorstep, the older man spoke, “He died, over a decade ago.”
The elder’s voice was very low, sounding as though nails were scratching frosted glass, quite unsettling.
“I know he is dead.
Did he do anything unusual before he died?
You all were neighbors; you must have known each other well?”
“It’s been over a decade; I don’t rember clearly,” the old man said, slightly lowering his head and avoiding Han Fei’s gaze.
“Really?” Han Fei, a master of Acting, was very astute at reading people, and he was sure the old man knew sothing.
“Has anyone ever co here asking about sothing related to the Spider?”
“Yes,” the elder said, his voice so weak it was barely audible.
“What did they ask?”
“I don’t rember.”
“Do you have their contact information?”
“He’s also dead now.”
The air suddenly turned dense.
The old man lifted his head, pointing to the rooftop, “He jumped from here.
He was fearless, just like you, at first.
Later, it seed as though sothing had latched onto him.”
The old man’s voice grew lower, his murky eyes filled with faint terror.
“These beings truly exist, whether you believe it or not.
Just make sure you don’t go to the fourth floor after dark, or you might be the next one to jump.”
“Old man…
have you seen sothing?” Han Fei wasn’t just a skilled actor; he had also studied psychology and had extensive “clinical” experience; he could deduce a lot from the re changes in an elderly face’s expressions.
The man, who had been avoiding eye contact, slowly lifted his head upon hearing Han Fei’s words.
He stared at Han Fei’s face; his cracked lips slowly opened, revealing his yellow-brown teeth, just as he was about to say sothing, a chi sound suddenly resonated from one of the rooms on the fourth floor.
Almost instantaneously with the sound, the old man seed to forget everything else, hurriedly opened his apartnt door and rushed inside as if slowing down would result in sothing terrible.
Han Fei didn’t stop the old man; he watched as the elderly entered his apartnt, and naturally followed him in, gently closing the door behind them.
“Uncle, what was that sound just now?” No one lived in any of the rooms on the fourth floor, and all the doors were locked; what could have made that chi sound?
“Wind chis; when that previous Writer was still without trouble, his wind chis would often ring as it was getting dark.”
As the old man stood holding the birdcage at the entrance of the living room, he never expected Han Fei to follow him inside.
He now doubted if soone with an unknown identity might have infiltrated the crew, because this young man in front of him, neither in apparel nor in deanor, seed like an actor.
“Really?” Han Fei rembered the information about the wind chi.
His gaze slowly jumped over the old man and peered inside the room.
The small room was filled with nurous shrines, all different in size and height, most of them covered with black cloth, obscuring whatever deities resided within.
“Old man, why have you invited so many gods into your house?
Gods should not be invited recklessly.” Han Fei had seen many things in the Deep World and knew a bit about these matters.
“I didn’t want to invite any gods, but shrines keep appearing in the building, and I don’t know who places them there.
I saw them and didn’t dare to leave them in the hallway, so I brought them all back ho,” the old man sighed softly, noticing Han Fei had no intention of leaving.
“I really had no intention of harming you.
I was staring at you in the hallway just now because I wanted to warn you not to get involved with that Writer.
Anyone who gets involved with him dies mysteriously.
Many strange occurrences in this building are also related to him.”
Once inside his ho, the old man seed much braver and spoke louder.
“Died mysteriously?” Han Fei thought of Butterfly’s usual modus operandi.
He now suspected that Butterfly was secretly killing those who wanted to investigate Spider.
If that was the case, it ant Butterfly was afraid.
Maybe Spider truly knew Butterfly’s weakness!
“It seems you really don’t know anything,” the old man shook his head.
“Decades ago, many strange occurrences happened near the North Suburb at Factory.
Initially, their pork was incredibly fragrant, and everyone loved to buy it.
Later, rumors circulated that soone had died in the at processing equipnt at the at Factory, which was why their at tasted particularly good.”
“That’s just a rumor, right?”
“Certainly, but many people still felt uneasy about it, so gradually, they stopped buying at from that factory.” The old man looked out the window where he could still see the now-abandoned factory building.
“After the sales declined, the quality of at from the North Suburb at Factory began to deteriorate, and a foul sll started to erge in their at.”
“No one knew the reason for this foul sll; regardless, their business kept getting worse until they were shut down.
Just before the closure, the factory owner’s business partner suddenly disappeared.”
“The police couldn’t find him anywhere.
Finally, while checking the at Factory’s stock inventory, they discovered the numbers of processed pigs didn’t match up; it seed there was an extra one.”
“It might only be a coincidence, but it was spread by those with ulterior motives, leading everyone to believe more firmly that there was sothing wrong with the at Factory.”
The old man sighed softly: “Eventually, the at Factory closed, and the factory owner beca the first person in the at Factory Courtyard for Family to commit suicide.
He jumped from a building, landing on the second-hand car he had owned for several years.”
“Even the car he couldn’t bear to replace; this man might have been wronged.”
“Actually, people close to him all knew he was innocent, and they generally thought he was a decent person, but who knew he would end up taking such a step?” After expressing his sorrow, the old man’s voice slowly changed as if he couldn’t speak too loudly about what he was about to say next: “The at Factory owner was just the beginning.
Since his death, the North Suburb at Factory Courtyard has beco quite odd.”
“What’s odd about it?”
“At night, everyone can always hear soone walking in the hallway, and occasionally, a aty sll wafts through the door cracks, making many believe that the dead factory owner has returned,” the old man said in one breath, without giving Han Fei a chance to interject.
“People were terrified, and then so brave young n who didn’t believe in curses stayed up at night in the hallway to check.”
“After several nights of vigil, they didn’t find the ghost of the factory owner, but they traced the foul stench to the fourth floor, to the Writer’s room.
It seed like all the sll was coming from his place.”
“The Writer himself is a very reclusive person who hardly ever leaves ho.
On the rare occasions he ets outsiders, he acts strangely, ranging from warm to cold, or fierce to gentle like a woman.”
“Everyone already considered the Writer an odd presence in this building and had little interaction with him.
It was a case of ‘the well water not disturbing the river water,’ but now that sothing has happened in the building, everyone has started to suspect this peculiar man.”
“Suspicion is one thing, but no one has any evidence.
The matter eventually stalemated.”
“But just three days later, one of the n who had kept watch in the hallway for the foul sll committed suicide inside the building, in the sa manner as the at Factory owner.”
“The man was young, unmarried, and had no psychological issues; suddenly, he was gone.”
“Although the police in Xinhu North Suburb ruled his death a suicide, everyone felt it was the ghost of the at Factory owner causing trouble.”
“Those who could afford it prepared to move out; those who couldn’t started thinking of all sorts of unconventional solutions.” The old man glanced around at the various shrines: “Back then, many residents called in experts to check, and after hearing the neighbors embellish stories about the Writer, the experts felt there were ghosts in the Writer’s house and wanted to perform an exorcism.”
“The Writer disagreed, but the expert forcefully entered.
That afternoon, after completing the ritual, he claid he had dealt with the ghost of the at Factory owner.
Upon the neighbors’ enthusiastic invitation, he decided to stay overnight.”
“They drank a lot of alcohol, and in the late night, the exorcist suddenly disappeared.
Everyone searched until dawn, only to find him outside on the second floor, hanging from the electrical wires.
It seed he had fallen from the second floor’s balcony while drunk, his neck caught in the wires, strangled to death.”
The old man looked at the slowly setting sun and, no matter how much Han Fei urged, dared not continue speaking as if talking about these matters after dark might summon sothing from the building.
Seeing the old man unwilling to talk further, Han Fei didn’t dare press him further.
He only thought of tonight when Director Zhang seed to be planning to gather everyone to discuss the script, which was entirely based on Spider’s personal experiences.
“If we discuss the script in this building, could it trigger sothing?” Gripping the script tightly, Han Fei felt the pressure but also a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
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