“Have you called the police?”
Jiang Zhi suddenly asked.
Wang Ji seemed still lost in his own narrative and didn’t immediately respond to the question. “What did you say?”
“A person is missing, have you called the police?” Jiang Zhi repeated.
“I-I called yesterday,” Wang Ji stammered.
“What did the police say?”
“They said to wait for news. That place is quite remote, there are no surveillance cameras, and there are no leads for now,” Wang Ji said, pulling out the business card he had just put in his pocket and placing it on the table. “Someone gave me this, saying you might have a way.”
Jiang Zhi glanced at the card; the white paper was starting to yellow, and the creases made the text somewhat unclear. It was impressive that someone had managed to find it.
He reached out and felt a hidden indentation in the corner on the back of the card.
He didn’t say anything further, just raised an eyebrow.
The sudden silence made Wang Ji uneasy, and he shifted forward in his seat, nearly sitting on thin air.
Feeling a bit thirsty, he instinctively reached for a cup, but as soon as his hand touched it, he pulled back as if electrocuted.
Seeing this, Jiang Zhi asked, “Do you need some ice water?”
Wang Ji nodded, “That would be great, thank you.”
Jiang Zhi went to the side and filled a cup with ice. After Wang Ji took it and drank a large gulp, his previously tense demeanor relaxed a little.
The ice clinked against the glass, producing a crisp sound, and droplets of condensation formed on the surface, sliding down to leave a long trail of water.
Jiang Zhi reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a crumpled piece of mint candy. He unwrapped it, tossing the blue candy into his mouth, where it rolled around on his tongue, releasing a cool sweetness that chased away some of his lingering drowsiness.
He kept the candy tucked in his cheek, a smile lingering on his face, but his gaze had grown cold without him realizing:
“Sir, in our line of work, we encounter too many grievances and debts, past enemies and rivals. It’s all just a cycle of grudges, so we understand if some things are hard to say. What matters is solving the problem.”
“However, if you deliberately avoid clarifying things, we won’t know how to help.”
Wang Ji was stunned by this sudden speech, opening his mouth but unable to respond.
Jiang Zhi felt a bit anxious; the drowsiness that had been interrupted still clung to his thoughts. He had expected selling a couple of charms to be straightforward, but it had turned out to be unexpectedly complex. It had been a long time since he had helped anyone with such matters.
Moreover, the person in front of him was unwilling to tell him the truth.
He leaned back, letting his smile fade, hands shoved deep into his pockets, legs crossed and stretched out under the table, rolling the candy from one cheek to the other.
“What kind of people were the previous tenants of this place?”
He abruptly changed the topic, catching Wang Ji off guard, who had been anxiously watching him. But he quickly recovered and answered:
“They were a couple. They moved out to get married.”
“Was that the only tenant in recent years?”
“Yes, yes. The rent is cheap, and there are no issues with the house, so it’s been rented continuously.”
“How long after they moved out did you move in?”
“Three… no, four months.”
“Did anyone mention anything strange about the house before you moved in?”
“No, no one did.”
“After you started dreaming, did you try sleeping somewhere else? Did you have the same dreams?”
“I tried, but I couldn’t sleep anywhere else. I was very scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared of heat, scared of everything that can be sensed as heat.”
“Are you still dreaming now?”
“Yes, I am still dreaming.”
Jiang Zhi chuckled, a hint of cold sarcasm in his voice. He realized that the person before him, who seemed honest, was actually determined to lie.
The situation was much more serious than he was letting on.
He didn’t want to get involved or guess at the convoluted details; after all, it was the other party’s problem. He just needed to send him on his way and could then go back to his nap with a clear conscience.
But it was just a missing person.
“You can’t do this.”
The voice in his ear was like a faint spark suddenly igniting in the heavy darkness, flowing through nearly a decade of time, landing in his eyes.
“You’re not that kind of person.”
He sighed deeply in his heart.
He had walked for a long time, feeling as if he had successfully transformed into another person, leaving all past events behind.
But in reality, those memories were still etched on him like a brand, carved into his bones; even if he were to carve out flesh and blood, he could not escape.
Suddenly, Jiang Zhi stood up, hands braced on the table, his body tilting forward, his obsidian-like eyes narrowing slightly, creating an undeniable sense of intense pressure.
At that moment, it was hard to describe him as a “sunny handsome guy.” He seemed to transform into a different person in an instant, his gaze heavy and sharp like a knife, resembling a top predator honed through harsh trials and tribulations.
“You actually didn’t call the police, did you?”
Wang Ji’s heart jolted; that short sentence pierced his brow like a sharp blade. He shrank back into the shadow cast by Jiang Zhi, feeling as if he had fallen into an ice cave.
* * *
Jiang Zhi stood under the blazing sun, calling his boss. After the eighteenth attempt, he finally couldn’t help but curse.
This bastard was as good as dead every time he went on a business trip; unless he returned himself, he was impossible to contact.
He had only wanted to trick Wang Ji a bit, using some interrogation techniques he had learned before, but he hadn’t expected this guy to be so easily frightened. Before he could say his next sentence, Wang Ji suddenly started crying.
Seeing a sturdy man nearly six feet tall crying like a rain-soaked pear blossom was an extremely shocking sight.
Jiang Zhi’s curiosity about the situation was abruptly cut off by Wang Ji’s tears.
But to his credit, after crying, Wang Ji managed to stammer out a bit of the truth.
The house indeed had issues, but Wang Ji wasn’t completely clueless.
After that couple moved out, there had actually been another tenant.
This tenant wasn’t introduced by an agency; he was a friend of a friend, a young man from the countryside who came to Shanhai Town looking for work. Hearing that Wang Ji had a house, he asked someone to help him rent it.
At that time, Wang Ji hadn’t been thinking of quitting his job; he figured since he was looking for tenants anyway, he might as well do a favor for a friend and agreed.
He specifically took leave to return to Shanhai Town to sign the contract with this young man, who was named Yang Dong, tall and thin with a very simple appearance.
But Yang Dong only stayed for a month before disappearing, and he didn’t even get his deposit back.
“Disappeared,” Jiang Zhi noted Wang Ji’s choice of words; it wasn’t “missing,” it wasn’t “left,” it was “disappeared.”
Wang Ji said he had vanished suddenly. He noticed the rent hadn’t been deposited the second month, and when he called, no one answered. He sent someone to check, knocked on the door for a long time but no one came to open it. Using his key to enter, he found the house empty, with no signs of anyone having lived there.
He had clearly seen the person move in, with a considerable amount of luggage, and he had even helped carry some of it.
He asked the neighbors in the building, but no one had seen anyone moving in recently.
Yang Dong seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Wang Ji had no choice but to call the friend who had introduced him. However, the friend said he had never known anyone named Yang Dong.
He even wondered if Wang Ji was experiencing hallucinations due to work stress and asked if he wanted to see a doctor.
Wang Ji naturally didn’t believe it. He opened his phone to look for the transfer and chat records but found nothing, not even the signed contract.
All traces of Yang Dong had been wiped away overnight, leaving only Wang Ji’s memory intact.
He couldn’t understand or comprehend why this had become a source of obsession for him under various strange influences.
He obsessively thought that since only he remembered, perhaps it was destined for him to uncover the truth.
So he quit his job and returned to his hometown, moving into that old house.
Jiang Zhi still didn’t understand why he was hiding this matter.
Wang Ji’s tears had nearly stopped, but he still couldn’t help but sob:
“Actually, I stopped having that strange dream three days ago.”
“In my dream, Yang Dong appeared.”
“He said that the origin of all this is because of me.”
“I did something wrong.”
“I can’t say.”
When asked again, he fell silent, lowering his head, turning back into a stubborn “stone.”
Jiang Zhi felt a headache coming on and could only send him home for now. The origin of the matter lay in that house; he needed to check it out first.
Something must have happened while Wang Ji was sleeping that caused his missing friend to develop this strange obsession; he needed to clarify it.
He stuffed all the remaining talisman papers from his drawer into his bag, took a bunch of peach wood swords and copper coins, but most of it was useless to him: he was just bringing them along for show, giving himself a bit of psychological comfort.
When he stood at the entrance of Wang Ji’s apartment building, he hesitated for a long time, feeling he needed to call his boss again. He really wasn’t confident; perhaps he could get some guidance from the sidelines.
But the repeated “the number you have dialed is not available” on his phone shattered his hopes. He angrily put down his phone, suddenly realizing this was the first time in seven years that he had truly stepped into something related to that side of his life.
He still remembered the first time he met his boss in Shanhai Town, the words his boss had said.
“You can’t be an ordinary person.”
Like a prophecy, he had never believed it, yet he had no choice but to accept it.
He took several deep breaths; he had lived such a mundane life for too long that he had nearly forgotten the feeling of carrying something. Yet he had never felt so completely unaware of what he would encounter as he did today. He had always been someone with keen instincts.
His heart, after seven years, began to beat with a “thump, thump” sound, the blood that had lain dormant for so long quietly revived at this moment, like a cluster of long-dead vines sprouting a hint of imperceptible green in the most inconspicuous corner.
He walked inside.