Chapter Seven: The Temple's Specter

To my surprise, the more we investigated this case, the more perplexing it became.

I said to Tang Jingjing, “Given that there were two migrant workers involved in the temple’s renovation, and one has already been murdered, do you think the other might be in danger as well?”

Tang Jingjing replied, “Did you really need to point that out? I’ve already spoken to Director Wang and asked him to verify the victim’s identity as soon as possible. Once we know who he is, finding the other worker shouldn’t be hard.”

Indeed, those who work away from home are usually from the same village.

After we returned, everyone went their separate ways—Li Xingchen to the computer lab, Tang Jingjing to check case files, and I back to the forensic room. I hadn’t performed an autopsy on the male corpse before, but now I wanted to do it thoroughly, hoping for new clues.

Unfortunately, the result was disappointing. I had hoped to find a third party’s fingerprints on the body, but the murderer was extremely cunning, leaving no trace behind.

By now, I had all but dismissed the idea that the killer was the so-called ghost infant. Even if such a specter existed, how could an infant ghost possess such skill and meticulous planning?

But then, how could we explain the tiny footprints on the ashes last night?

My thoughts became tangled, as though my mind had been emptied. I kept turning things over, convinced we’d overlooked something vital, but the specifics eluded me.

By evening, we still had no leads. Instead, it was Li Xingchen who pulled me to the computer lab—and, unexpectedly, Tang Jingjing was there too.

Li Xingchen looked particularly secretive, so I asked what was going on.

He announced, “I told you it was the ghost infant; none of you believed me. Look! The ghost infant is making another example.”

With that, he brought up a post from the school’s forum.

The title read: “The Legend Continues—The Gatekeeper Left Mindless by the Ghost Infant.”

“This is clearly a fabrication,” Tang Jingjing scolded. “Find the IP address of whoever started this rumor! If this keeps spreading, the whole school will be in a panic.”

“No need,” Li Xingchen replied. “It’s that Xu Cheng again. Seems he’s desperate for attention... But to be fair, this post is already trending. He’s got quite the talent for making up stories.”

“It can’t be completely baseless,” I said. “Let’s see what the post says.”

The post claimed that, at midnight, the school’s gatekeeper went into the small grove for some unknown reason, and saw a dark figure inside the Earth God’s shrine. The gatekeeper immediately thought of the ghost infant legend and shone his flashlight at the figure. The shadow turned around—its face deathly pale, but the most disturbing part was that it had no face at all.

The post ended with the gatekeeper being so frightened he lost his wits, returning to his post muttering over and over, “It’s back, it’s back.”

“It’s obvious nonsense,” Tang Jingjing said. “Who would go to the grove at midnight?”

“Not necessarily,” I countered. “I think we need to investigate the school again.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Li Xingchen immediately objected. “I’m just a computer guy, not a cop. Count me out—I’ve got no time for this.”

“And I’m just a forensic intern, now forced into detective work. Where’s the justice in that?” I laughed wryly. “Come on, the more people, the better. I also plan to take another look at the Earth God’s shrine.”

It was after this conversation that I finally had a revelation: I knew what crucial clue we had overlooked.

It was the Earth God’s shrine!

Since the killer had shrouded everything in mystery and directed all clues toward the shrine, we needed to see its true face for ourselves.

“Come on, it’s late—why go to the shrine now? I’m not going, not even if you drag me. Please, just let me work in peace...” Li Xingchen protested.

When we arrived at the school, our first step was to determine whether the forum post was a hoax. I saw the gatekeeper sitting dutifully at his post, so perhaps the story had been fabricated.

But then I noticed something odd. Students passing by the gatehouse in small groups would steal curious glances at it, whispering among themselves.

Something was off.

I pulled Tang Jingjing aside and suggested we ask the gatekeeper about what had happened.

Surprisingly, our inquiry bore fruit: this gatekeeper was a temporary hire. The previous one had indeed gone mad and was now receiving treatment at a psychiatric hospital.

A chill ran down my spine—part of the post was true. Now I needed to sift out what was fact and what was fiction.

Who would be best to question? Naturally, Xu Cheng, the author of the post.

When we found Xu Cheng, his expression made it clear he was basking in the attention.

However, one stern look from Tang Jingjing was enough to bring him back to earth.

Xu Cheng stopped trying to argue and confessed everything. He had exaggerated in his post. The previous gatekeeper had actually entered the grove during the day, though whether he went to the shrine was uncertain.

When the gatekeeper emerged, he’d lost his mind, his clothes covered in blood, screaming, “It’s back, it’s back!” It was lunchtime, so many students witnessed the scene.

Tang Jingjing and I exchanged a look, reading fear in each other’s eyes, and we left the school together.

Li Xingchen, nearly in tears, said, “I told you I didn’t want to come, but you made me, and now look—I’d like to see you dare enter that grove!”

“Let’s go,” I replied softly.

Li Xingchen sighed in relief.

“Buy a flashlight,” I added.

Li Xingchen nearly collapsed onto the ground. Tang Jingjing, probably turning her fear into anger, scolded, “How can you be so timid? I’m a girl and braver than you!”

“I’m a hacker, not a mountain demon,” he retorted.

I had planned to buy just one flashlight, but the two insisted on having one each. I couldn’t blame them; I was trained as a forensic specialist from a young age by my father, so I was hardly an average companion.

After some convincing, we ate dinner and headed to the grove.

I thought students would be passing by after evening classes, at least offering us some comfort.

But fate wasn’t on our side. The students were so frightened of the grove they’d rather take a long detour than cut through it. Li Xingchen suggested recruiting some male students, but I disagreed; if we showed up in a group, we’d scare off any clues that might be lurking.

The darkness in the grove was beyond my expectations. The school’s streetlights didn’t reach, and outside the meager beams from our three flashlights, there was nothing but blackness.

Li Xingchen and Tang Jingjing pressed close beside me. I could clearly smell the sweat on Li Xingchen and the faint scent of perfume from Tang Jingjing—a combination that was both unsettling and oddly grounding.

The grove was eerily quiet, the branches dense and tangled, the moonlight filtered through as if by gauze. The ground was thick with dead yellow leaves, undisturbed for who knows how long.

In some ways, that was a blessing—it muffled our footsteps.

The grove wasn’t large, but it felt as though we’d been walking forever. Li Xingchen trembled beside me, chanting prayers for Buddha’s protection.

Tang Jingjing chided him for being selfish, saying he should pray for all of us. Li Xingchen replied that last-minute prayers didn’t work.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional cold gust of wind that raised goosebumps on my skin. The rustling of the trees sounded like the frenzied dance of demons.

At last, we reached the Earth God’s shrine.

The shrine was in ruins, its faded red and green walls crumbling away. I noticed the spiderweb at the door was broken—proof the gatekeeper had indeed entered.

I called out to Tang Jingjing and Li Xingchen, inviting them to search inside with me.

No sooner had I spoken than a sharp “crack!” sounded from within, as if something had fallen.

We all froze.

Another step, and again—a sharp “crack!”

“Who’s there? Come out!” I shouted, refusing to believe in ghosts.

“Ghost!” Li Xingchen collapsed to his knees in terror.

I quickly helped him up. “Ghosts fear the brave—the more courage you show, the more they shrink away.”

“Whoever’s inside, listen up!” Tang Jingjing echoed my tone. “We’re police—if you don’t come out, we’ll shoot!”

“Get out!” Suddenly, a furious roar shattered the silence of the dilapidated shrine. My heart pounded fiercely; Li Xingchen spun around, screaming for help, and vanished into the darkness in an instant.

To say I wasn’t afraid would be a lie, but my stubbornness wouldn’t let me back down without seeing the truth.

Tang Jingjing was terrified too; if there hadn’t been a broken wall to support her, she’d have collapsed.

I reached out to steady her, but as soon as I looked away from the shrine, she let out a piercing scream—there’s a ghost!

I turned immediately. Sure enough, at the shrine’s entrance, a shadow had appeared out of nowhere!