"I heard from Old Wang at the gate that there are hanged ghosts and jumping ghosts on the rooftop..."
"I don't know about ghosts," he said, "but that place definitely gives off an unsettling vibe."
Li Yang said that ever since he moved into this building, he went up to the rooftop almost every day. He had noticed a few strange things about it.
Even during the day, at high noon with the sun blazing overhead, the rooftop carried a chilling, eerie coldness. Logically, a place as high up as the rooftop should feel cooler due to the wind and altitude, but this was different.
Li Yang described it as a coldness like being submerged in icy water.
It was as if your entire body was plunged into freezing water in the depths of winter, the chill seeping from your skin into your blood and muscles, penetrating deep into your bones, with every joint radiating cold. It felt much like the bone-chilling air of a crematorium's columbarium—step inside, and the temperature drops noticeably, the cold air rippling like water, unbearable for those with weak yang energy.
Even stranger, if you stood at the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the city below, the entire world seemed to warp and distort. This distortion wasn't static; it was a slow, gradual transformation. To use an imperfect analogy, it was like a drop of oil falling into water, its fine tendrils slowly spreading and twisting outward.
The sensation was extraordinarily peculiar. The eerie part was that to perceive this effect, you had to spend a long time in a calm state of mind, standing at the very edge of the rooftop, silently gazing downward.
Picture this: a person standing atop a tall building, eyes unfocused, staring blankly below. Anyone unaware would assume they were either a lunatic or a suicidal wreck on the verge of collapse.
Li Yang said his longest record was gazing down like this for over an hour. At that point, he reached a state where, in his eyes, every detail of the city came vividly alive. The long street below slithered like a dark gray snake across the ground; manhole covers looked like eyes embedded in the earth, staring back at him from below; a distant bridge resembled a thousand-year-old turtle, trudging along with the weight of passing vehicles.
In short, in his eyes, the entire city transformed into a prehistoric, magical forest, teeming with bizarre creatures lurking among the crowds—some greedy, some cruel, some gazing at the world with indifference.
He felt the city, the entire world, was vibrantly alive, brimming with infinite allure, just within arm's reach. All you had to do was step forward, reach out, and touch it...
Hearing this, a cold sweat ran down my back. Li Yang's face had turned pale as well. He forced a smile. "Luckily, my phone rang at that moment, or I might've ended up jumping like Lin Xia did."
"Are you saying that's why Lin Xia jumped?" I asked urgently.
He shook his head. "To reach the state I described, you need a long period of stillness. I don't think Lin Xia had that kind of patience or sensitivity. I met her twice—she seemed lively and cute, but there was always a faint sadness about her. I believe her death was tied to her emotions."
"Love's separation and unattainable desires," he sighed.
Suddenly, something occurred to me. "Li Yang, when you were up on the rooftop, did you ever see a voodoo doll?"
He frowned. "What doll?"
I explained that it was a cloth doll wrapped in white tape, pierced with red pins.
Li Yang showed an unusual interest in it, pressing me for details. I described it and added, "Oh, and there were words written on the doll."
"What words?" he asked.
"Guan Feng," I said.
Li Yang nodded thoughtfully. "Come on, I'll treat you to dinner. Let's talk more, and then you can take me to the rooftop to find that doll."
Li Yang didn't look like much, but his demeanor suggested he was as wealthy as Li Damin or Big Second. Taking advantage of a rich guy? I had no qualms about that.
It was the liveliest time at the night market. We found a barbecue stall, ordered a table full of skewers, grabbed a few beers, and dug in.
As we ate and drank, I recounted everything—from interviewing Peng Liang with Li Damin to his solo search for Ma Danlong's whereabouts. Li Yang listened intently, not touching his beer, completely absorbed.
"Your thoughts align with mine," he said. "There's definitely an unspeakable secret hidden in this building. I never would've guessed it started like this—so mysterious."
I asked how he ended up here.
Li Yang said that before Li Damin disappeared, he had sent him an email. The email was brief but chilling, almost like a last will.
In it, Li Damin said he was about to do something extremely dangerous and unpredictable. If he went silent for a long time, it likely meant something had happened to him. He wrote that the only person he trusted to handle his affairs was his cousin, asking him to comfort his family.
I felt a pang of unease. I always considered myself Li Damin's closest friend, yet he hadn't thought of me for such matters. A sour feeling crept into my heart.
"How did you know he disappeared in this building?" I asked.
"He told me in the email. He said this building was extremely dangerous and mysterious, warning that if the Light League ever chose it for an adventure, we should absolutely avoid it!"
I sighed. "And yet, here you are."
Li Yang glanced up at the building. "If I don't uncover the truth, I'll suffocate from curiosity."
"Haha, Li Damin knew the Light League is full of curious thrill-seekers who'd jump at the chance for chaos. By calling this place dangerous in his email, he probably meant to lure you all here," I chuckled. It wasn't a baseless claim—Li Damin was cunning enough to pull something like that.
Li Yang looked at me, a strange glint in his eyes, and smiled. "Maybe."
After dinner, we returned to the building and entered the elevator. I pressed the button for the highest floor, the 21st. The indicator lit up, and the elevator began its slow ascent.
Staring at the buttons, I suddenly felt something was off, though I couldn't pinpoint what.
We reached the 21st floor and climbed the stairs to the rooftop. It was dark, pitch-black. Li Yang turned on his flashlight, scanning the area. "Where did you kick that doll?"
With him there, I felt bolder. Recalling that night, I pointed to a spot and mimed a kick. "It should be around here. I remember the voodoo doll flew in that direction."
Li Yang swept his flashlight across the ground, searching inch by inch.
"Got it," he said, picking something up.
I looked—it was the voodoo doll. Li Yang held it, examining it closely. Pointing to the words "Guan Feng" written on it, he asked, "Do you know who this is?"
"Who?" My heart skipped a beat, a bad feeling creeping in.
"Guan Feng was Lin Xia's boyfriend."
Cold sweat broke out on my skin. "You're saying Lin Xia left this voodoo doll?"
"Yeah. I didn't see it before she jumped, but now it's here, with her boyfriend's name on it. Isn't it obvious?" he said.
Lin Xia was ruthless—jumping to her death in a red dress and leaving behind a voodoo doll with her boyfriend's name. What kind of hatred did she harbor against him?
"I wonder if her curse worked. How's that Guan Feng guy doing?" I muttered to myself.
"Who knows," Li Yang replied casually. He squeezed the doll, his expression thoughtful, then turned to me. "Did you notice anything else strange?"
I shook my head.
"Alright, let's go." He walked ahead, still holding the doll.
"Why are you keeping that thing? Isn't it bad luck?" I called out.
"We'll talk back at my place." He disappeared down the stairs.
We returned to his apartment. I looked around—his place was about the size of mine, with a redwood bookshelf against the wall, packed with books, mostly on religion and metaphysics. There were seven or eight books just on interpreting the *Tao Te Ching*. I pulled one out and flipped through it.
Li Yang sat at his desk, turned on the lamp to its brightest setting, and pulled a craft knife from a drawer. My attention shifted from the book. What was he doing?
He squeezed the voodoo doll, turned it face-down, and carefully sliced open its back with the knife.
I put the book back and walked over to watch. He was completely focused, ignoring me.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"There's something inside." He fully opened the doll's back, revealing a mass of white cotton stuffing.
"Lao Liu, grab a pair of chopsticks from the kitchen."
My curiosity was at its peak. I rushed to the kitchen, rummaged through drawers, and found a pair of disposable chopsticks. He took them, gently spread them apart, and carefully inserted them into the doll. After a moment, he pulled something out.
It was a jade tablet, about the size of a thumb, deep black in color. Under the lamp's light, faint lines were visible, forming the shape of a tripod. I nearly gasped.
The jade tablet was hollow, with liquid sloshing inside. As light passed through the black jade, the liquid shimmered like a flowing landscape painting.
He set the tablet aside and probed the doll again with the chopsticks. This time, he pulled out a piece of paper.
It was a yellow sheet, folded into a square, resembling the kind burned at graves. Through the paper, reddish-brown writing was visible.
Li Yang carefully unfolded it, holding it by the top and bottom under the lamp.
The paper was a long strip, covered in flamboyant handwriting arranged in rows of varying sizes. Surrounding the text was a strange, talisman-like pattern.
The words and design were written in what looked like blood-red dye on the yellow paper, creating a chilling, eerie visual impact.
"Is this a talisman?" I asked, a shiver running down my spine.