Chapter Thirty-Two: The Eerie White Shadow

At last, a passenger could no longer endure it and hurriedly asked the driver to stop. The driver, clearly frightened himself, managed to bring the bus to a halt and immediately got off, followed by the rest of the passengers who scattered in a panic.

I was about to leave as well, not wanting to arouse suspicion. But Li Hong insisted on checking the radio, claiming something might have been tampered with. I refused to let him, pulling him down with me.

This area was still part of the city, so plenty of taxis passed by. Many people hailed a cab, while a few others boarded random buses, escaping in disarray.

The bus driver, of course, couldn’t just leave—the bus was still here. He didn’t even dare get back on to turn off the engine. Seeing Li Hong and me lingering, he quickly approached us, handing each of us a cigarette with a nervous smile, inviting us to go back up with him to switch off the engine.

I feigned the demeanor of an ordinary passenger, looking hesitant.

The driver pleaded desperately, and only then did I reluctantly agree to accompany him back onto the bus.

I whispered, “Driver, isn’t this bus haunted? Brother, don’t keep it from me.”

The bus driver sighed, “The company forbids us from talking about it! Anyway, you two should leave as soon as you can. I’ll call the company. Damn it, no matter the pay, I’m not driving this route anymore…”

I pretended to be puzzled. “Why, driver? Why won’t you drive? Don’t tell me this bus really is haunted.”

The driver glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby, then lowered his voice. “Young man, you’re not from around here, are you? Haven’t you heard the stories about the Number Eight bus being haunted?”

I was even more bewildered. “I haven’t heard. Could you tell me more?”

He shook his head repeatedly. “I told you, it’s company policy not to talk about it.”

“Is there anything outside company policy—just your own experiences?” I said, with genuine curiosity.

He eyed me warily. “Why are you asking so much?”

I replied, “Actually... I’m a novelist. My pen name is Daoist Nine.”

“Oh?” His interest was piqued. “The author of those suspense novels? I’m a fan.”

I nodded.

“And who’s your friend?”

“I’m somewhat famous, so I worry about being mobbed by fans. Hired a bodyguard.”

Li Hong, wanting to prove his role, grabbed a brick from the decrepit bus stop and smashed it with a single punch.

To my surprise, the driver believed him. “Young man, if you ever write about this, give me a cameo—just call me Bai Sanhe. Let me tell you, at the third stop, there’s a ghost wandering!”

“Come on, there are no such things as ghosts,” I challenged.

Bai Sanhe was displeased. “Now you don’t believe me after I tell you. Honestly, it’s really haunted—I’m not lying, I saw it myself.”

“What happened exactly? Please, tell me the whole story.” Suddenly remembering Old Lin, I hurriedly took out a notebook and pen, ready to jot down notes.

It was the proper air for a novelist.

Moved by my professionalism, Bai Sanhe explained, “You don’t know, but a girl died at that stop once. Lately, that girl has appeared again, dressed in pale white clothes, waiting for the bus. Every time I arrive, she waves at me, but never boards.”

“You know she’s a ghost and still stop?”

“Well, it’s dimly lit—I didn’t see her face clearly at first. But every time she waved without getting on, I felt odd, so once I looked closely. Sure enough, it was the girl who died, her face ghastly pale.”

“Even now, thinking about it makes me uneasy! Imagine—every day, a ghost waiting for my bus, always waving, always repeating the same gesture. Even the thickest-skinned driver couldn’t take it. So I stopped picking up passengers at that stop—hardly anyone gets on there anyway.”

“Oh, do you know who the girl was?” I asked.

Bai Sanhe wanted to say more, but just then someone called him. He turned quickly, saying he couldn’t talk further; the company had sent someone. He hurried off.

As I was still caught up in Bai Sanhe’s ghost tale, Li Hong suddenly called my name.

I asked what was wrong.

Li Hong asked if I noticed anything strange.

Puzzled, I asked what he meant.

Li Hong said, “Did you see Mouse’s car?”

Only then did I remember Mouse. Damn it, how did I lose track of him again? Was he asleep in the car? But that seemed unlikely.

I immediately called Mouse.

Unexpectedly, his phone was switched off!

A sense of foreboding washed over me. Normally, members of our Major Crime Unit weren’t allowed to turn off their phones. What was Mouse doing today?

I tried calling Old Lin—his phone was off, too.

Damn, something must be wrong!

I quickly rang Tang Jingjing. At last, the call went through.

But for a long time, no one answered. My heart raced; sweat beaded on my forehead as anxiety gripped me.

After the first attempt, my palm was slick with sweat. Li Hong noticed something was wrong and asked what had happened.

I told Li Hong to call Old Lin and Mouse nonstop for twenty-four hours, even if their phones were off—maybe it was just bad signal.

Though I knew I was fooling myself, I had nothing else to do.

A good while later, the call finally connected. Tang Jingjing’s voice was faint, shaken—she was clearly frightened. Her voice trembled: “Xiao Yang, where are you?”

I quickly asked, “Where are you? Did something happen? I’ll come right away.”

Tang Jingjing said, “At the very end of Huangpu Road, at a construction site—I’m not sure exactly where. Hurry.”

“Alright!” I didn’t ask more, flagged down a taxi and sped toward Huangpu Road.

Huangpu Road was on the outskirts, now in the midst of investment and development. Most old houses had been demolished, leaving mostly construction sites.

Why did they go there? I was baffled.

I had Li Hong keep an eye out for any sign of Mouse’s car and report immediately if he spotted anything.

Li Hong nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation. He stayed silent, not blinking once.

After about ten minutes, I finally saw a car atop a pile of construction debris ahead. The front was badly deformed, caved in, though the windows remained intact.

I told Li Hong to check it out. As we approached, it was indeed the police Toyota.

There’d been an accident!

How did Mouse drive? I was sweating with anxiety, pounding on the window.

The glass slowly slid down. Old Lin’s pale face appeared. “Behind you…”

Alarmed, I spun around.

Li Hong, acting on instinct, whipped out his baton and swung it behind us.

As I turned, a pale white shadow flashed past the corner of my eye. When I tried to find it, it was gone—as if it had vanished into thin air.