Chapter Fifty-Three: The Haunted Desolate House!

I sighed and said it was impossible to determine, as there were very few clues on the victim.
“According to the regulations, when it can’t be determined whether it’s suicide or homicide, it must be treated as homicide. We’re heading to the crime scene immediately!”
Old Lin referred to it directly as the crime scene, which suggested he was already quite certain this was a murder case.
In the car, I asked Old Lin what his thoughts were. He sighed, admitting that he had no leads for now either. Years ago, in this very mountain town, there had been a case almost exactly like this—so similar it was startling, even the victim’s age was nearly the same. He wondered aloud if this boy was intentionally mimicking the one who died before, or if someone else had deliberately arranged the corpse in this way.
The case Old Lin mentioned was the infamous “Red-Clad Boy” case from many years ago in the mountain town.
I was about to search online for information about the 2009 Mountain Town Red-Clad Boy paranormal case when the driver suddenly spoke up: “Sir, may I say something?”
Old Lin quickly replied, “If you have something to say, go ahead. We’ll keep it confidential.”
The driver breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you know how far the place where this boy died is from where the Red-Clad Boy died?”
“How far?” Old Lin asked immediately.
“Just one street away,” the driver answered in a low voice. “Not even two kilometers.”
A chill crept over me.
The driver continued, “Do you know what people are saying about this incident?”
“How so?” Old Lin asked.
“They say that the boy died an unjust death and his spirit lingers nearby, unwilling to leave. This time, he found a substitute,” the driver said.
I scoffed, “There are no ghosts in this world. That’s all just folklore.”
“Do you know…”
At that moment, Tang Jingjing interjected, “Comrade, could you stop always asking us rhetorical questions? We don’t know anything.”
The driver smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, it’s a habit. You know… Some say that in the old house where the boy died in 2009, you can often hear a child crying late at night—sometimes for hours on end. It’s made the neighbors uneasy, and a few families were so frightened they moved to the county.”
I analyzed, “Could it be a child from a nearby house crying at night, and as rumors spread, it turned into this kind of story?”

The driver shook his head. “Impossible, because none of the nearby families have children. Most kids are boarding at middle school; there aren’t any at home.”
“Then it’s just hearsay,” I said. “If one family claims to have heard crying, others might mistake other sounds for a child’s cries. You must know the saying, ‘Three men talking make a tiger’.”
The driver gave a bitter smile. “I’ve heard that, but I just don’t think that’s the case. It’s not the old days anymore—rumors wouldn’t be so vivid, would they? People don’t just hear crying; they also hear a child talking, as if someone’s muttering to themselves, sometimes even switching to another tone of voice. It’s very strange.”
I glanced at Old Lin. After a moment’s silence, he said, “Let’s not go to the victim’s house. Let’s go to the haunted house.”
Li Hong scratched his head. “Old Lin, do you really believe that?”
Old Lin replied, “Think about it. If the villagers aren’t lying, and the haunted theory doesn’t hold up, then who is crying in that room at night?”
I spoke up, “You suspect another boy is crying in that room? Maybe even the victim?”
Old Lin nodded. “It’s just a guess. But I have a strong feeling that the crying in that room is deeply connected to this case.”
I nodded, thoroughly agreeing with Old Lin’s reasoning.
“Are we going now?” The driver sounded reluctant. “I’m just worried that the wronged spirit might follow me home.”
Tang Jingjing was getting annoyed. “What’s with you, comrade…”
“Could you stop calling me comrade? I’m nearly forty. I’ve been at this for almost ten years, and I’m still just a junior officer.”
Tang Jingjing stopped. “I’m your senior, I have every right to call you comrade. You’re a law enforcement officer; you shouldn’t be so superstitious.”
The driver forced a smile. “It’s not superstition—I just feel uneasy. I have a teenage son too. If I attract something…” He sighed.
I said I’d drive instead, and he could go back.
He hesitated. “If the chief finds out, he’ll chew me out alive.”
Tang Jingjing scolded, “Why are you so long-winded? If you don’t want to go, we won’t force you. But now we’re letting you go, and you won’t leave—what do you want?”
Old Lin waved it off. “Enough. Go stand guard at the crime scene. That’s an order!”
“Alright,” the driver agreed immediately, dropping us off at the crime scene. I took over the wheel, following the navigation he’d given me to the haunted house.

In the car, Tang Jingjing said, “I think the driver is the murderer—just look at his shifty face. He might have some twisted obsession with children.”
Old Lin immediately rebuked her, saying that remarks like that could seriously affect their objectivity and harm the investigation.
Tang Jingjing pouted. “I was just talking.”
Our destination was an abandoned house. The cobwebs on the doorframe and the decayed wood made it clear no one had lived there for many years.
Suddenly, Tang Jingjing raised a question. “Old Lin, if someone came here at night, why aren’t there any signs of disturbance in the cobwebs on the doorframe?”
Old Lin replied, “Maybe they got in another way.”
Li Hong volunteered, “I’ll look around outside to see where someone could get in.”
He quickly returned, looking dejected. “I found nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” I was puzzled. “If someone climbed the wall, there would be at least some trace left.”
Li Hong disagreed. The walls were topped with glass shards, and there were no marks—dust covered everything, completely undisturbed.
Tang Jingjing suggested, “Could someone have dug a tunnel in from somewhere else?”
“It’s possible,” Old Lin agreed.
To avoid contaminating any evidence, Old Lin handed out disposable gloves and shoe covers. As we pushed open the door, a desolate scene greeted us, filling us with a deep sadness.
The small farmhouse was overgrown with weeds. Moss and fungus covered the ground, the abandoned furniture, the windows, and even the doors.
Old Lin sighed, “Can you imagine a family of three sitting in this yard on a summer night, enjoying the cool air? The man might be bare-chested, the woman slicing watermelon, or maybe chasing after the mischievous little boy for his bath…”
Seeing Old Lin so moved, I realized, from his expression when he first saw the boy’s corpse, that he must be someone with a story of his own.
Sending someone like him to investigate such a case was truly cruel. I wondered if I should secretly call Chief Wang and tell him about the situation.