"Do you believe there are ghosts in this world?"
"My na is He Feng. I'm a journalist, and for many years, I have been investigating whether there are really ghosts in this world. I believe there are, we just haven't found them yet. To prove this, I have visited many places and questioned many people under the guise of my job. From my inquiries, I discovered that the older people are, the more they believe in ghosts, while younger people tend to think there are no ghosts in this world."
"Is it superstition among the older generation? Or have they truly seen sothing terrifying in the past, which makes them so convinced?"
"I'm not sure, but out of interest and persistence, I've co to investigate an elderly ho in Dadong City, hoping to gain so unique insights this ti."
A man wearing glasses, with sowhat coarse skin and a robust build, is recording quietly with a voice recorder at this mont.
After finishing his records, He Feng put away the voice recorder, bought so gifts nearby, and then walked into the elderly ho with the gifts in hand.
The reason for choosing such a place is that He Feng thinks it's most likely to find valuable leads here because the elderly have experienced a lot, and maybe one of them has truly encountered sothing inexplicable. Additionally, the elderly in a ho lack companionship, making them easier to approach.
After entering the elderly ho, He Feng communicated with the director, gained permission, and then prepared to start the formal interviews.
He didn't rush but rather took his ti selecting interview targets.
There are many elderly people in the ho, and interviewing each one individually was not feasible due to ti constraints, as He Feng also needed to work and earn money. So, he could only select a few elderly individuals for interviews, using his judgnt to screen them.
Having worked for many years, He Feng had developed so ability to read people. So elderly might appear ordinary, but their faces are filled with stories.
"Let's start with that old man."
Soon, He Feng spotted an elderly man sitting alone in a wheelchair under a large tree, basking in the dappled sunlight, appearing very lonely, without a caregiver in sight to accompany him.
However, the man had his eyes half-closed and was dozing off, seeming to enjoy this serenity very much.
"An elderly person who can enjoy solitude must have a very strong heart. Such a person usually has had extraordinary experiences in their youth," thought He Feng to himself.
He walked over with a gift in his hand.
The elderly man in the wheelchair did not notice soone approaching, as if he had really fallen asleep.
"Grandpa, Grandpa, wake up, can you hear ?"
He Feng gently called out, though he knew it was impolite to disturb the elderly man's rest, he had no choice, as he only had two hours set aside for interviews today.
The old man slowly opened his eyes and looked at him, "Young man, whose child are you? I haven't seen you before."
"I really apologize for disturbing your rest, Grandpa. I'm a journalist conducting an interview, do you have so ti? May I ask you a few questions? It won't take much of your ti," He Feng said politely, taking out the voice recorder.
"An interview? I'm not interested. Go find soone else," the old man refused.
"Please accept this gift, Grandpa. I sincerely hope you can do this interview with , please," He Feng pleaded again, offering the gift.
The old man let out a snort and tossed the gift aside, not giving He Feng any face at all.
"Old Zhang, your temper is as foul as ever. This young man is so polite, even bringing you a gift and only asking you a few questions. No wonder no one talks to you, you deserve to die alone," said another elderly man passing by, unable to resist intervening.
The elderly man in the wheelchair was called Old Zhang. He snorted, "If you're so good-hearted, why don't you be interviewed? I'm not interested."
"Don't say that. I'd be happy to be interviewed. Young man, co over here, interview instead. You can ask any questions you like, I'm much easier to get along with, and I love chatting," said the passing elderly man as he ca over and sat down under a tree.
He Feng smiled awkwardly but couldn't refuse, so he shifted his focus to the walking elder: "Grandpa, may I have your last na?"
"I am Sun," the grandpa replied warmly. "Young man, don't just stand there, co, sit here. It's much better to sit down for the interview. Standing must be tiring."
"Alright, Grandpa Sun, let's begin then,"
He Feng activated the voice recorder, "Grandpa Sun, my first question is, do you believe there are ghosts in this world?"
"What? Ghosts?"
Grandpa Sun shook his head quickly and said, "I'm not superstitious. I'm a staunch believer in science. Although many of my friends told ghost stories when I was young—about haunted places and deaths—I never believed them. If ghosts existed, why haven't I seen one? Young man, you're so young, why are you so feudal? That's not very good. Let tell you about my glory days when I was vying to be the top in sothing. Do you know what being the top dog ans..."
As Grandpa Sun began to ramble, he started to brag about his achievents in his youth.
To this, He Feng was not surprised, pondering how to steer the conversation or end the interview quickly.
Because this Grandpa Sun didn't seem like soone with a compelling story, it wasn't worth spending ti interviewing him.
"Back then, when the haunting was intense, how did soone as ignorant as you manage to survive? You should be thankful you've never seen a ghost. If you had, you'd be dead by now," the elder nad Zhang, sitting in the wheelchair, suddenly started shouting at Grandpa Sun.
"Old Zhang, how dare you curse ? Are you trying to provoke ? I was the top dog back in the day; I've never put up with this kind of crap!" Grandpa Sun couldn't take it after being insulted and stood up, ready to reclaim his pride.
At this mont, He Feng paused, then his eyes lit up as he gazed directly at the elder Zhang, feeling inexplicably excited inside.
This elder indeed had stories to tell; it seed he knew sothing.
"Grandpa Sun, calm down, I'm going to take Grandpa Zhang away now so as not to bother your walk."
He Feng didn't want to let the two elders continue arguing, so he quickly stepped in, wheeling Grandpa Zhang away at once.
"Old Zhang, don't you dare leave, I want to challenge you today," Grandpa Sun shouted, full of curses.
But He Feng moved even faster, not wanting to miss this excellent interview opportunity.
He wheeled Grandpa Zhang inside the building, found an empty room, and sat him down.
"I thought you were like those other journalists, coming here asking 'are you doing well, are you happy...' Ugh, as annoying as flies. Even if you say you're not doing well or you're unhappy, they won't broadcast it. Asking is as good as not asking," Grandpa Zhang seed to have a deep prejudice against journalists.
"Grandpa, this is a private interview. Oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. My na is He Feng, and I've been seeking out folk tales of the supernatural. Earlier, I heard you ntion that there was a severe haunting in the past? What did that an? Was there a haunting here before?" He Feng asked.
"It wasn't the elderly ho that was haunted; it was over there," Grandpa Zhang pointed in a direction outside the window.
He Feng looked in the direction pointed but saw nothing outside the window, "Grandpa, where are you referring to?"
"There used to be a building, but it was demolished later."
Grandpa Zhang spoke with a bit of reminiscing, "It wasn't just that building that was haunted; at that ti, ghosts were causing havoc all over the country. The places with severe hauntings saw entire cities sealed off, with no idea how many people died."
"Sealed cities due to hauntings?" He Feng was shocked, his body tingling with disbelief.
Really?
"Grandpa, I recall that roughly sixty years ago there were indeed so disaster events nationwide, like chemical leaks, major flu outbreaks, earthquakes, but those were all natural and man-made disasters. I never heard of cities being sealed due to hauntings," He Feng inquired again.
As he was conducting interviews, naturally, he would be inford about major events of each era.
"What you're talking about is fake, to cover up the truth about the hauntings, cough, cough," Grandpa Zhang got sowhat emotional and couldn't help but cough.
"Grandpa, please don't get agitated," He Feng quickly stood up to help calm the elderly man's feelings.
After Grandpa Zhang's emotions settled a bit, He Feng continued to ask, "Grandpa, you're saying those disasters were fake. Do you have any evidence?"
"Evidence? What kind of evidence? My personal experience is the evidence," Grandpa Zhang snorted heavily, "If you don't believe it, don't ask so many questions. Do you think I enjoy telling you all this?"
"Grandpa, sorry, I don't an to disbelieve you. After all, interviews need to ensure authenticity. So, can you talk about your experiences when you were young?" He Feng hastily apologized, then asked very curiously.
He felt that Grandpa Zhang's story was unusual.
Today, his visit might achieve a major breakthrough.
Seeing He Feng's good attitude, Grandpa Zhang softened his stance and slowly said, "I don't really want to talk about that event because I've been trying to forget what happened back then. But as an old man, I don't have much ti left. Since you want to hear it, I'll just treat it as telling a story."
He Feng said nothing, quickly poured Grandpa Zhang a cup of tea, and prepared a recorder.
"My surna is Zhang. My full na is Zhang Zhidong, and I'm a local from Dadong City."
The old man nad Zhang Zhidong looked out the window, reminiscing as he spoke: "It was about sixty years ago, back then I was just in my early twenties, very young. Unfortunately, at that young age, I had a tumor growing in my head."
"The doctor said the surgery was risky, and if I didn't have it, I might live half a year at most. However, the night before the surgery, as I lay on the hospital bed sleeping, I suddenly vanished from the hospital and found myself beneath a building over there."
"Suddenly vanished? Can you explain in detail?" He Feng urgently interrupted, asking.
"Explain? How can I explain to you? I still don't understand it myself." Zhang Zhidong replied.
"Grandpa, please continue." He Feng asked no more, continuing to listen.
Zhang Zhidong said: "I rember clearly, when I suddenly appeared under the building, I wasn't even wearing shoes, just a hospital gown, and the night wind was particularly cold. I felt very cold at the ti... Then, several mysterious people were staring at . I was terrified, thinking they were kidnappers wanting to harvest my organs."
"Mysterious people?" He Feng quickly noted this important piece of information.
"Later I realized those mysterious people weren't kidnappers. One of them seed to be their leader, wanting to make a deal with . He asked to sit on a red wooden bench and promised to help operate to remove my brain tumor afterwards. Back then, I wanted to refuse, but I had no choice and was forced to sit on that red wooden bench."
Zhang Zhidong paused at this point.
"Grandpa, what is a wooden bench? Can you explain in detail?" He Feng took this opportunity to inquire.
"It's just a piece of wood carved into a long bench, a rare piece of furniture from my era." Zhang Zhidong said while gesturing.
Being a well-inford journalist, He Feng had seen so old objects and quickly sketched based on Zhang Zhidong's description. In no ti, the drawing of the long bench was complete.
"Grandpa, is this what you ant?" He showed the sketch.
Zhang Zhidong glanced at it, nodded: "Yes, exactly. But it was painted with a bright red paint, so bright it looked like it was dripping with blood."
"I was forcefully pinned onto that red wooden bench by the leader of the mysterious people, and at the mont I sat on it, I saw sothing I could never forget in my life."
"What was it?" He Feng asked.
Zhang Zhidong slightly lowered his head, and in a suppressed voice said, "A ghost."
A ghost?
He Feng was stunned, and then sheer excitent followed.
After investigating for so long, he finally t soone who had truly seen a ghost.
"Was it really a ghost? If there was a ghost on the bench, how did you not notice it before? Did the ghost do anything to you?" He Feng followed up with a series of questions.
Zhang Zhidong said to himself: "I couldn't comprehend that scene, because clearly there was nothing on that red bench before, yet when I sat on it, a ghost appeared."
"Though it was nightti, I saw it clearly. The ghost had no legs, as if it was fused with the red wooden bench, and it really wanted to kill ."
"However, I was only filled with fear at the ti, unable to move, and couldn't leave the wooden bench."
"I don't know what that mysterious person did, but the ghost didn't end up killing . I was pulled up from the bench not long after, and strangely, the ghost vanished as soon as I left the red wooden bench, leaving nothing on it."
He Feng listened, suppressing his inner excitent, quickly jotting down his thoughts while recording.
A ghost appeared on the red wooden bench, only visible when sitting.
The ghost wanted to kill Zhang Zhidong but was stopped by so ans by the mysterious person.
...
"Just like that, I inexplicably completed a deal with that mysterious person. He took away the red wooden bench and quickly left with the other mysterious people, but a few seconds later, they bizarrely reappeared, saying they would help with the surgery."
Zhang Zhidong gestured as he spoke, reaching his hand towards He Feng's forehead, "Just like this, the mysterious person extended a pitch-black hand, seamlessly passed through my head, and removed the tumor from my brain."
He Feng covered his head, rubbed it, then said, "So miraculous? Sounds like one of those ancient strange tales."
"Reality is stranger than fiction." Zhang Zhidong snorted. "Without that person's surgery back then, I would have long been dead, with no chance of surviving."
"By the way, Grandpa, do you rember what that person looked like?" He Feng asked again.
Zhang Zhidong shook his head: "I don't rember, but I do rember the person's na. After the surgery, I understood they ant no harm, so I mustered the courage to ask a question. Though the person appeared cold, they were very kind and responded."
"He said his na was... Yang Jian."
"Yang Jian?" He Feng quickly recorded the na, another critical clue.
"Grandpa, who do you think this Yang Jian might be? From your description, it seems they possessed extraordinary abilities."
Zhang Zhidong said: "There were ghosts causing trouble everywhere at that ti, naturally there were people fighting against them. When the hauntings beca severe, I learned that these special people were called Ghost Tars."
"Ghost Tars? Sounds like a special profession, similar to the exorcists or Demon Exterminators in films." He Feng said.
Zhang Zhidong didn't respond but sighed: "It's a pity, I never saw that Yang Jian again, nor did I encounter any more ghosts. Now even if I speak out no one believes . If it weren't for preserving my old dical records, I would doubt if there was sothing wrong with my mind, thinking it was all an illusion."
"But it doesn't matter; being alive is what counts."
"Young man, I've finished my story. Do you have anything else you want to ask?"
He Feng said: "No, thank you, Grandpa, for your cooperation. I didn't expect to hear such a fantastic story today. By the way, Grandpa, can I see your old dical records?"
"No problem, I'll take you to them." Zhang Zhidong said.
He Feng imdiately stood up to push the wheelchair.
Zhang Zhidong led the young journalist to his room, then handed over the long-sealed dical records: "These are of no use to , I'll give them to you. I'm not sure if they count as evidence."
He Feng repeatedly expressed his thanks, earnestly collecting the dical records to study them later.
"By the way, what happened to your legs? I know several good doctors who might be able to help." He subsequently asked with concern.
"You're a kind-hearted young man, but my legs aren't sothing a doctor can fix." Zhang Zhidong shook his head, then pulled up his pants to reveal his legs.
He Feng glanced and his eyes imdiately constricted.
What kind of legs were those? Withered, shriveled, twisted, hard to believe from a living person.
"My legs were crippled long ago. I suspect it's a hidden consequence from sitting on that red wooden bench back then. People often said ghosts were terrifying, that those who touched the supernatural beca unlucky. I believe it. Young man, if you want to trace ghostly trails, I advise you to be careful and not lose your life heedlessly."
Zhang Zhidong then lowered his pants, covering up his horrid legs.
He Feng took the opportunity to take a photo, feeling it served as proof that the story from the old man nad Zhang Zhidong was not fictitious.
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