Being Targeted by a Female Ghost [Criminal Investigation] - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Invisible Stranger

Lan City, on a stormy night.

At two in the morning, a man was still wide awake.

He was half-sitting, half-lying on his bed, his thumb mechanically scrolling through every comment on the screen.

The post, titled “The Invisible Stranger,” was one he had published not long ago.

Not to sensationalize or gain traffic, but simply to figure out the other person in his house.

To be precise, a ghost.

He believed he hadn’t done anything guilty, so he shouldn’t be haunted by an evil spirit. Therefore, he posted this question, seeking help from netizens to find a way to send the ghost away.

Many commenters suspected he was crazy, claiming the stranger he described was just his hallucination. Some even wrote lengthy arguments unilaterally diagnosing him with schizophrenia.

A few were willing to believe that the shifting objects, strange shadows, and sounds he described were real, but they merely believed and didn’t offer any practical advice.

The most liked comment suggested he call the police. He replied helplessly, “The police have already been here. They said there were no signs of forced entry.”

After he said that, more people sided with the “crazy” theory.

He had been scrolling through comments until now, desperately sleepy, his eyelids barely able to stay open. Still not seeing the answer he wanted, he simply turned off the screen, threw his phone aside, and lay down to sleep.

He didn’t dare turn off the light, sleeping with it on. However, in the middle of the night, he suddenly woke up.

Just like before, he woke up without warning, and the light was off.

It’s here.

It’s back.

He thought that if this continued, he might genuinely develop schizophrenia.

He frantically grabbed his phone, opened the security camera backend, and began reviewing the footage since he fell asleep.

Nothing.

The light just suddenly went out.

Impossible.

He reached out to press the switch by his bed.

It didn’t light up.

He pressed it again, still no light.

Oh, it’s a power outage.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Before he could finish exhaling, he turned to look out the window.

Wait a minute.

The surrounding areas had power. Why was it only out here?

He hastily scrambled out of bed, used his phone for light, and hurried to the fuse box, opening it to check.

It wasn’t a power outage; the circuit breaker had tripped.

It’s common for circuit breakers to trip during rain and thunder.

He laughed twice at his own cowardice and reset the breaker.

Click.

All the lights in the room came back on.

The man closed the fuse box cover and turned to walk toward the living room.

However, as he turned and his eyes landed on the living room, he gasped, his mouth wide open, his breathing halting.

The woman in red, who had been hidden in the shadows moments before, had nowhere to hide now.

“Hi,” she said softly.

The next second, a piercing scream cut through the walls and ripped through the night sky.

With a thump, Qiu Chi fell heavily onto the floor.

The thick rug she had placed down beforehand provided cushioning, so the fall didn’t hurt as much as last time.

She lay on the ground, recovering for a while, staring blankly at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

The image of the man’s horrific scream still lingered in her mind.

If she hadn’t reacted fast enough, running to the balcony and bringing herself back, she feared she might have been caught and studied as an alien creature.

She sighed, dropped the inking pen she was holding, and slowly got up, pushing herself off the floor.

The red nightgown fabric was slippery, draping down as she rose, concealing her bruised knees.

The sound of a piano came from the other side of the wall. She unhurriedly picked up her slippers, put them on, and walked toward the sound, arriving at the study.

After a moment’s hesitation, she answered the call.

The piano music stopped, and a woman’s gentle voice came through the phone: “How many panels have you drawn, Teacher Qiu? Should the draft be submitted this week?”

Hmm… Qiu Chi was silent.

The person on the other end spoke on her own: “It’s fine, it’s fine, I understand. It’s a creative block; it’s perfectly normal. How about this… just like I said last time, send me the storyboard sketches, no matter how rough. I’ll find someone to do the inking and coloring for you. I guarantee no one will ever find out.”

Hmm… Qiu Chi remained silent.

The woman on the other end also fell silent.

After a few seconds, she asked tentatively, “Teacher Qiu, it’s been a month. You haven’t even drawn a rough draft, have you?”

“Mhm,” Qiu Chi answered honestly.

“No, not even one panel…” The woman took a deep breath. “Not even one panel?”

Qiu Chi turned to look around.

The study was large. One wall held a bookcase filled with various comics. In front of the case was a large desk, holding a drawing tablet, a monitor, and various paints and brushes.

Crumpled balls of discarded sketches were scattered everywhere in the room, which, like the other rooms, was covered with thick rugs.

Qiu Chi retracted her gaze and hummed again.

Yes, I can’t draw anything.

“Don’t do this, Teacher Qiu. What about the serialization?” The woman said helplessly. “Your series has been on hiatus for a month. Do you know how many readers are waiting for you to resume it?”

Qiu Chi was silent again.

“The momentum for Monster is strong right now. Don’t you think it’s a pity to just give up?” The woman grew more agitated.

Hearing this, Qiu Chi frowned slightly.

She had an accident a month ago and woke up with all her memories gone. If it weren’t for her phone found at the scene, she wouldn’t even know who she was.

Let alone the subsequent plot of the comic.

Plus, with this intermittent teleportation ability, she was afraid that continuing to draw would sooner or later lead to trouble.

So…

“Please post a formal announcement that the series is stopping,” she replied seriously to the person on the other end.

The other end was silent for a long time, then asked reluctantly, “Are you really not going to reconsider? Stopping the series is a big deal.”

In fact, ever since she discovered her teleportation ability a month ago, Qiu Chi had been thinking about changing careers.

Based on the clues she had gathered so far, the trigger mechanism for the ability was related to her drawing. As long as she didn’t touch a pen, she wouldn’t be teleported to the crime scene.

Although the situation changed today—she encountered a living person instead of a dead one—that was still someone else’s home.

If the person called the police, she would definitely be in deep trouble.

It was possible the person had already called the police, and they were on their way to arrest her now.

Thinking this, Qiu Chi stated firmly: “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Alright,” the woman paused. “Then when do you plan to start on the short story you mentioned before?”

As the question fell, Qiu Chi seemed to hear the shrill scream again, so she replied: “I won’t draw anymore, long-form or short-form.”

“…Do you even know what you’re saying?”

She could hear the anger from the other side.

“What is wrong with you?”

This was a rare challenge.

The other person quickly followed up: “Did something happen?”

Qiu Chi still did not answer.

The phone seemed to carry a sigh. After a long silence, the voice said: “Autumn, you’re truly disappointing.”

It was the first time she had been hung up on. Qiu Chi was slightly stunned.

Disappointing?

She recalled what her editor had told her over the past month.

Just by hearing those extravagant descriptions, she could imagine how impressive a cartoonist her pre-amnesia self had been.

But now she had forgotten everything, and she couldn’t remember the rest of the story.

Disappointment was to be expected.

Hot.

So hot.

Zhang Zhuo wiped the sweat from her forehead and continued searching for that familiar figure in the great fire.

She pressed her arm tightly against her mouth and nose to keep the surrounding thick smoke from getting in, but she couldn’t help but cough.

The fire spread quickly. In the blink of an eye, she couldn’t see the path ahead.

This was her home; she should have been completely familiar with it, but at this moment, she still couldn’t find her direction.

She tried to call out the name, but the smoke blocked her voice the moment she opened her mouth.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

The firelight reflected in her eyes. Her eyes were as dry as a withered well; she wanted to cry, but no tears would come out.

The words she spoke that day suddenly flashed in her mind: “Why is it that only I can’t?”

Why?

Why…

Why.

The question that had trapped her, tormented her, and caused her insomnia, finally had an answer at this moment.

Because of a lack of love.

It’s that simple.

Zhang Zhuo stopped, looking around. Her once-familiar home suddenly became strange.

The smell of char and smoke rushed in from all directions. She abruptly lowered her hands, leaving herself uncovered and letting the thick smoke envelop her.

Then, she closed her eyes and walked towards the sea of flames.

“It doesn’t matter if there’s no love. I’ll stay with you.”

“Are you crazy?!” A furious roar came from behind her.

A strong hand wrapped around her waist, dragging her out of the fire without question.

She screamed, roared, and struggled relentlessly, even as she was pinned to the ground. She pushed away the numerous hands trying to stop her, scrambling up to her feet.

Someone around shouted: “Quick! Stop her!”

She stared at the house being completely consumed by the raging fire nearby, and her eyes finally became moist.

“The fire is too big, you can’t go in…”

“Let go of me!” She shook off the hands pulling at her, her eyes wide, refusing to let the tears fall.

The person suddenly slapped her, angrily shouting: “Going in is just killing yourself!”

The slap wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make her calm down.

Die?

She couldn’t help but start laughing, a fierce, crying-like laugh.

Everyone looked at each other, and no one stepped forward to stop her again.

Her laughter abruptly stopped, her expression instantly darkening: “She was forced to die by you people.”

Her tear-filled eyes slowly scanned the crowd. She said in a trembling voice: “You are the real murderers.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she charged toward the sea of flames without hesitation.

Gasps arose behind her, instantly drowned out by a sudden explosion. A wave of heat rushed toward her, followed by a dizzying spin.

Outside the dream, Zhang Zhuo abruptly rolled off the sofa and slammed into the coffee table with a loud bang.

For a moment, her heart was filled with mixed feelings.

In the first few years, she did frequently dream of that fire. She thought she would remember it for a lifetime, but she quickly realized she was wrong.

Her memory wasn’t as good as she thought.

What the woman looked like, she really couldn’t recall anymore.

It makes sense.

It’s been ten years.

It’s time to forget.

She supported her waist and stood up, her gaze scanning the surroundings. Only then did she realize what she had returned to do.

Eat, shower, change clothes, and then go back to stake out the serial killer.

Instead, she fell asleep while waiting for the water to boil.

An unopened instant noodle cup sat on the coffee table. A strong burnt smell lingered in the air. A slight vibrating sound came from the sofa area.

She snapped out of it, fumbling for her phone in the sofa cushions. She hit answer and put it to her ear.

The first sentence from the other end was: “Little Captain Zhang, have you been showering for too long?”

She took a deep breath and walked towards the kitchen: “Are you trying to rush me to my death?”

The voice on the other end lowered: “You’re not here to hold the fort. Everyone else has dozed off. I’m the only one awake.”

Frowning, Zhang Zhuo turned off the gas stove and threw the glowing red kettle into the sink: “Then you go to sleep too. Save yourself the trouble of being an informant here.”

Cold water hissed against the hot kettle, and white steam billowed up.

It was only then that she noticed a hole burned through the bottom of the kettle.

The person on the phone heard the noise and asked what she was doing. She sighed, throwing the burned kettle into the trash: “Blacksmithing.”

The other person chuckled: “When did you become so industrious?”

“Alright, I don’t have time for nonsense. I’m busy.” Zhang Zhuo said, hanging up the phone. She then tugged at her collar and sniffed—a smell of sweat.

If she didn’t shower and change clothes soon, she would truly stink.

She hurried to the bedroom, found clean casual clothes, and went straight to the bathroom.

To recover quickly, she took a cold shower, loosely dried her short hair with a towel, changed clothes, and headed out.

However, on the way, she received another call.

This time, the tone was serious: “Something’s happened, Captain Zhang. We just received word from the precinct that another body of a young man has been found near Xigu Cave.”

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