Li Su raced back to the police station and immediately put in a request to view the missing persons list for Zhangjia Town.
He was no stranger to the procedure—he’d submitted one before, though that had been for Long Town.
Missing persons reports were handled with great caution, and the approval process wasn’t something to be taken lightly. They couldn’t be released without an official reason.
Which was why, up until now, Zhangjia Town—the place Li Su had entirely ruled out—had never been on his radar for such a check.
Before long, a call came through from the city office, and a staff member emailed him the file.
The station was bustling at the time; Zhou An, Meng Xingzhong, and the rest of their group had all shown up.
But Li Su was careful. He reviewed the email by himself.
Meng Bai stood off to the side, quietly taking it all in.
It looked like there was a breakthrough: a missing persons report.
Li Su’s expression shifted subtly—anyone could see it.
The report revealed that over the past thirty years, five people had gone missing in Zhangjia Town.
The similarities were striking: all children, all suspected cases of human trafficking.
Not entirely unexpected, though. Trafficking had been rampant in those days, especially in small towns like this one, where kids vanishing was almost always chalked up to that.
Right then, Li Su figured out why the town was called Zhangjia Town. Every single name on the list was Zhang.
Zhang Fangfang, Zhang Tingting, Zhang Xiaoqin, Zhang Zheng, and Zhang Hua.
Zhang Fangfang and Zhang Tingting were sisters; Zhang Xiaoqin and Zhang Zheng were brother and sister; Zhang Hua was an only child.
In short: traffickers didn’t discriminate—they snatched any kid they could get their hands on.
Li Su sorted them by gender. Zhang Fangfang, Zhang Tingting, and Zhang Xiaoqin were girls—eliminated.
That left Zhang Zheng and Zhang Hua, both boys. They would be the primary focus.
He set the report aside and stood, turning to his colleague. “Pull up everything on Zhang Zheng and Zhang Hua. Birth years roughly between… 1995 and 2000.”
The net was tightening, step by step. Things were finally moving.
Assuming, of course, that the case really had ties to Zhangjia Town.
Night had fallen deep, and Meng Xingzhong was starting to nod off. He had no idea why Li Su had dragged Meng Bai into this, so he spoke up. “Old Li, you about done? If there’s nothing else, I’ll take the kid home to bed.”
“Hold on!” Li Su glanced at Meng Bai. “Mind if I have a quick word with your daughter?”
Meng Xingzhong threw up his hands in exasperation. “Come on, what are you hounding my girl for? She’s just a kid—she doesn’t know a thing.”
Fatherly protectiveness like that was easy to understand; he didn’t want her caught up in even the slightest mistake.
Li Su knew full well how odd his behavior must seem to everyone else.
But for the sake of any leads he could uncover, he pressed on. “Relax, I mean no harm. Just a couple questions. If she’s not up for it, no problem.”
Meng Xingzhong turned to Meng Bai.
She took it in stride. “I’d be happy to help.”
Li Su nodded. “Then come with me, just us.”
He led her to one of the station’s interrogation rooms. It was empty save for the two of them.
Li Su gestured to a stool. “Sit.”
Meng Bai sat. She’d never pictured herself in a place like this.
“It’s not an interrogation,” Li Su explained. “Just quieter here, easier to talk.”
“Mm.”
“If I showed you that anonymous video, would you be scared?”
Meng Bai thought to herself, That’s the one I filmed myself. Scared? Yeah, right.
But out loud, she said, “Not sure. If it’s too gruesome, maybe skip it.”
“Not gruesome. Just… gross.”
“That’s okay. Let’s see it.”
Li Su clicked the remote, and the room’s projector flickered to life.
The footage opened shaky, the filmer’s breathing heavy and audible—until the KTV’s raucous noise swallowed it up.
Then came Zhang Gou and his crew demanding girls, Baldhead showing up, Xu Jinghe filtering in bit by bit.
Meng Bai hadn’t been able to shake the memory of that scene. Watching it play out again made her frown all over.
There, in the tight confines, Xu Jinghe faced Baldhead’s threats, those vile words turning the stomach.
Right as Baldhead reached for Xu Jinghe’s pants, Li Su hit pause.
“What do you think?”
Meng Bai’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, disgusting.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t think the way it was filmed is… remarkable?” Li Su gave a small smile, his eyes fixed on Meng Bai, studying her. “Not even a little remarkable?”
Meng Bai corrected course. “Sure, it’s remarkable.”
“You don’t sound convinced. Just placating me.” Li Su eyed her steadily. “So… have you seen something like that before?”
Have you seen something like that before?
It was a loaded question, hinting at more: Have you witnessed something even stranger? Something that wouldn’t faze you at all? Those in the know would catch the drift.
Meng Bai’s heart skipped. She shook her head on reflex. “No.”
“Your eyes gave you away. You’re lying.”
She let out an unexpected laugh. “You know I don’t know anything. Why even ask? What could I possibly know? I really don’t.”
“Fair enough.” Li Su didn’t push, steering back instead. “Look, my only goal here is justice for this case. Everything else? Not my business. So don’t worry.”
It was like he was assuring her: Even if you’ve brushed up against the supernatural, that’s on you. I only care about what ties to the case.
But Meng Bai’s guard was ironclad. She wasn’t about to risk exposing Miao Bai with one careless word, so she clammed up.
Unable to draw anything out of her, Li Su let it go.
“That’s all for now.” He sighed. “Thanks for your help.”
“No trouble.”
Meng Bai rose, itching to get out.
Li Su walked her back out. As they reached the door, he stopped and turned. “You want the bad guys to pay too, right?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Anytime you want to talk, I’m here.”
“Mm.”
~~~
By the time they stepped out of the police station, the snow was coming down in sheets.
Zhou An and Xu Zhou asked Meng Bai what Li Su had wanted.
She shook her head. She was tired, she said, and didn’t feel like talking.
They let it drop.
They were truly exhausted. They had set out so happily to watch fireworks in the city, only to miss the fireworks entirely and stumble upon an empty coffin instead.
It wasn’t just Zhou An and Xu Zhou who fell silent—even Meng Xingzhong had nothing to say.
There were plenty of things that needed clearing up, but by unspoken agreement, no one said another word.
The walk home from the police station should’ve taken only ten minutes, but they ambled along slowly, the crunch of snow underfoot fading into quiet.
A few hundred meters later, it had to be nearing midnight. Every house in the small town was dark and still, its residents long abed.
Meng Xingzhong led the way, his pace unhurried. After a bit, he glanced back at Meng Bai and the others.
“It’s late—why not pick up the pace?”
Meng Bai looked up. “We are walking.”
Meng Xingzhong slowed to a stop, waiting for them to catch up.
And so the four of them proceeded down the narrow lane, walking almost abreast.
Meng Xingzhong broke the silence. “This whole business feels downright spooky. You girls need to stay closer to home from here on out.”
“Dad, aren’t we saving this talk for another day?”
“Fine, fine, mum’s the word.” He swallowed his words with effort, but they wouldn’t stay down. “Still, it all feels off to me. What if some unclean thing’s lurking about? Tomorrow I’ll head to the temple and get you all some protective charms.”
Meng Bai’s heart sank. “No way. You’re overthinking it.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than a gust of wind stirred behind them, carrying a chill that crept slowly up their backs.
Meng Bai whipped around at once, but saw nothing.
Meng Xingzhong tugged his leather jacket tighter around himself. “This winter’s brutal—even this old coat of mine can’t keep out the wind! Can you believe it?”
He’d had that jacket for over a decade, wore it faithfully every winter, always swearing it kept him toasty. Never once had he called it insufficient.
Snowflakes rode the biting wind down from the sky, settling on cold strands of hair and eyebrows alike. The quiet small town filled with the howl of the gale; in the distance, endless fields slumbered under their blanket of winter crops, the atmosphere hushed once more.
The path stretched straight ahead, the view wide open on all sides.
Meng Xingzhong mulled things over, his gaze fixed blankly forward.
And then, in the space of an instant—
A white shadow streaked across from the far side of the field ridge, vanishing so swiftly it was gone between blinks.
Meng Xingzhong halted dead in his tracks. “Did you see that?”
Truth be told, Zhou An and Xu Zhou had.
But Meng Bai gave their arms a subtle pinch.
Zhou An shook her head woodenly. “No… didn’t see a thing.”
Xu Zhou swallowed hard. “Huh? What? I didn’t see anything.”
Meng Bai shook her head even more firmly.
Meng Xingzhong took them at their word. “That shadow, really? It darted right across from over there on the ridge.” He stopped walking altogether and fished a cigarette from his pocket. “Hell, that couldn’t have been a person. This is too damn strange.”
Meng Bai was even more rattled, because that shadow clearly hadn’t been Miao Bai.
“Dad, can you not make such a big deal out of it? You’re scaring Zhou An.”
Only then did it dawn on Meng Xingzhong. He looked apologetic. “Sorry—Uncle’s been off his rocker tonight. It’s late; let me walk you home.”
Meng Bai hooked her arms through Zhou An’s and Xu Zhou’s. “They’re crashing with me tonight.”
Meng Xingzhong nodded offhandedly. “Works for me.”
On the way back, Meng Xingzhong still seemed unsure and circled back to Meng Bai: “You really didn’t see anything?”
Meng Bai’s patience frayed. “Dad, I swear, nothing. There’s no such thing as ghosts in this world!”
That finally convinced him. “All right, must’ve been seeing things.”
Zhou An and Xu Zhou stayed utterly mute the whole time, quiet in a way that felt unnatural.
They reached home soon enough. Lin Li was already asleep by the time they slipped inside.
Meng Bai tugged Zhou An and Xu Zhou straight to her room, no hesitation.
The moment the door shut, she locked it.
Zhou An, silent until then, collapsed onto the edge of the bed. “I was dying holding that in! I’m scared out of my mind!!!! What the hell was that thing!!!!”
Xu Zhou wasn’t faring much better. “What’s the deal with that white shadow? Ghostly as hell—one second it was there, gone the next!!”
Meng Bai, by contrast, kept her cool.
“Easy now. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”
Zhou An huffed in and out, still shaking her head. “Still scared!”
Meng Bai shot Xu Zhou a sidelong glance. “She’s freaking out—comfort her. I’ll grab you some water.”
Xu Zhou had been rattled too, but seeing Zhou An in such a state forced her to toughen up. She sat beside her and patted her back. “Stop shaking. There’s no ghost.”
Zhou An shot back, “Bull! That was a ghost!”
Xu Zhou let out a scoffing laugh, her fear ebbing away. “No ghosts. And even if there were, it wouldn’t come after you.”
Zhou An looked pitiful. “We dug up somebody’s coffin tonight! Of course it came knocking!”
Xu Zhou scooted a little closer and took Zhou An’s icy hand in hers, soothing her. “Then don’t be scared. If a ghost shows up, I’ll stand in front of you.”
“For real?” Zhou An peeked at her, eyes red-rimmed like she might cry any second. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
Xu Zhou shook her head. “Mad about what?”
Zhou An mumbled, “Y’know… that thing where you liked me, and then I… y’know, with you.”
All hemming and hawing, too embarrassed to spell it out.
But Xu Zhou got it right away. “Oh, the love letter? Nah, not mad. If you don’t like me back, that’s fine.”
“It’s not like I don’t—” Zhou An’s face flushed with awkwardness. “Never mind, drop it!!”
Knock knock knock. Meng Bai rapped on the door, then came in with two bowls of steaming hot water.
“Here, drink up. It was freezing out there.”
Zhou An eyed her suspiciously. “You’re way too chill! How are you not freaked out at all?”
Meng Bai’s tone stayed even. “Nothing to freak out about. Yeah, we saw it, but that doesn’t mean I’m scared.”
Zhou An took a sip of the hot water and whispered, “Was it because we dug up his coffin tonight? Did he come for payback??”
“No.” Meng Bai fixed her gaze on Zhou An, then shifted to Xu Zhou. “I’ve got something to tell you. Don’t yell at me.”
“Spit it out.”
“I’m heading out in a bit.”
“Fuck!!” Zhou An’s face twisted in horror. “Don’t scare me like that! You planning to go toe-to-toe with the ghost or what?”
What Meng Bai said next shattered Zhou An completely.
“It headed off in the direction of the Old Courtyard. Miao Bai was acting weird tonight too—she vanished right after that. So I want to go check it out. You two come with me.”
“I still have to keep you company!” Zhou An trembled all over as she spoke. “I’m scared.”
Meng Bai pulled out her ultimate trump card. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run into danger if I head out alone?”
“I am afraid, but I’m even more afraid—wuwuwuwu—” Zhou An let out a pitiful wail, nodding vigorously even as the tears flowed. “Come on, let’s go, let’s go.” She turned to Xu Zhou. “Zhou’er, Zhou’er, you protect me.”
Xu Zhou’s brows furrowed. “Zhou’er?”
What a rotten nickname. It sounds awful!
