Translator: CinderTL
Though Boss Sang was terrified, he understood the principle that circumstances trumped individuals. He had a premonition that the people before him were even more dangerous than the thugs who had beaten him earlier.
"Hmph," Boss Sang sighed and stood up. "Follow me. It's not safe here."
Everyone understood. He was worried that if he revealed the photos of the Japanese men, the thugs who had attacked him might coincidentally show up, with predictable consequences.
The group followed Boss Sang into the secret room. The door was small, but the space inside was larger than expected.
The room was long and narrow, divided in the middle by a black curtain. Outside, there was a small container resembling a washbasin, about the size of a household sink. It contained a liquid that looked like some kind of medicinal solution, and a strange odor permeated the air.
Boss Sang reached out and pulled back the curtain.
Inside was a separate compartment, but to everyone's surprise, the walls were covered with photographs—all of Japanese men!
The instant they saw this, Fu Fu seized Boss Sang, her fair hand veins bulging.
She gripped Boss Sang's throat, her gaze darting around warily. The moment she sensed any movement, she would kill him without hesitation.
If Boss Sang's story was true—that the photos of the Japanese men had caused him trouble—then why hadn't he destroyed them? Why had he dared to display them in his room? Was he trying to die?
Or was this a trap?
"No, no, don't!" Boss Sang cried out, clearly terrified. "I didn't mean anything by it. I put the photos up to verify something!"
"What?" Huai Yi demanded fiercely.
At Luo He's silent signal, Fu Fu reluctantly released her grip.
"Cough, cough, cough!" Boss Sang clutched his throat, coughing violently as if he had nearly choked to death. His eyes were filled with terror as he stared at Fu Fu.
The girl looked so cute, yet her grip was surprisingly strong. As a grown man, he hadn't even been able to fight back.
Boss Sang pressed his lips together, then after a long moment, he raised his head and stared intently at everyone. In a low voice, he asked, "Do you... believe in such things? I mean..."
"Ghosts?" Fu Fu interrupted impatiently. "Yes, we believe in them. Just get to the point."
Boss Sang's carefully cultivated mood was shattered, but he forced himself to say, "I... I had a dream. Just yesterday."
"A dream?"
The moment they heard the word "dream," everyone's attitude shifted. Based on their deductions, Pan Du and Linghu Yong were trapped in a bizarre dream.
Lin Wan'er asked calmly, "What kind of dream?"
Boss Sang dragged a low wooden stool from the corner and sat down, lost in thought. "I don't know if I should even call it a dream. It was so real, it didn't feel like one at all."
"And... and while I was in the dream, I questioned it too. But..." He looked up, his eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment. "But I couldn't find any flaws in it. It was too real. I could smell the earth, the dew. I could even feel the textures!" Boss Sang's breathing quickened.
"Don't be afraid. Take your time," Luo He said, his voice laced with a hypnotic quality that seemed to calm Boss Sang.
"Let me start from the beginning. Yesterday, those people came to my shop. They smashed my equipment and accused me of colluding with the Japanese, calling me a traitor. I realized I couldn't keep those Japanese photos around—who knew what trouble they might cause later?"
"So, I stayed at the studio last night instead of going home. I napped on the table for a while, and when I woke up, it was already dark outside and eerily quiet."
"Taking advantage of the late-night stillness, I gathered all the Japanese photos from around the studio and pulled out a solution I had prepared in advance."
"This solution is excellent for destroying photos. It works quickly. I tossed all the photos into it."
"After calculating the time, I went to do something else. When I thought enough time had passed, I returned to check on the photos. But when I pulled back the curtain..."
Boss Sang's eyes widened with terror, and his body began to tremble. "The tank... it was empty! Completely empty!"
"Even if the photos had dissolved, there should have been some residue. But the tank was spotless, just a layer of solution. And the solution hadn't even changed color."
I turned around to face the darkroom and found all the photographs just lying there on the table, as if no one had ever touched them.
I was stunned. But at the time, I didn't think much of it. I figured I must have remembered wrong, and I laughed at myself for being so nervous—the thugs during the day had scared me half to death.
So, this time, I carefully gathered the photographs and threw them all into the chemical solution again. But when I returned a few days later, I found them exactly as before!
Boss Sang looked at everyone, his eyes bloodshot and his pupils crisscrossed with red veins, clearly terrified to the core. "The photographs were just lying there on the table, untouched!"
"But I definitely threw them into the solution! They should have been destroyed—they must have been destroyed! How... how could this be?!"
Clutching his hair, Boss Sang repeated the same few sentences over and over, his entire demeanor bordering on hysteria.
"What happened next?" Luo He asked. "What did you do then?"
"I burned them, cut them with scissors, bit them with my teeth, tore them with my hands!" Boss Sang suddenly raised his head, the words barely squeezing through his clenched teeth. "But it was useless, all useless! No matter how I destroyed the photos, they would always reappear, restored to their original state after I left!"
He shakily extended a hand, pointing towards a small table in the corner, his voice trembling. "Right there, that's where the photos would appear!"
"Every single time!"
"Aren't you curious why?" Fu Fu asked in a strange tone, "Like hiding behind a door to peek."
Huai Yi swallowed hard at her words. The photos' repeated reappearance and restoration clearly indicated something amiss. How could anyone dare—
But what made his pupils dilate in shock was Boss Sang's reaction. He raised his head, his eyes fixed on Fu Fu's face, and in the next moment, he actually nodded.
He opened his mouth, his voice no longer merely hoarse but like two whetstones grinding together. "The last time... I hid behind the door and peeked through the crack."
He spoke one word at a time, each syllable a painful effort. The discomfort this caused was more psychological than physical, but no one dared to rush him.
"What did you see?" Pi Ruan couldn't help but ask.
His words seemed to pull Boss Sang back into the memory. His breathing became rapid and shallow, like a bellows leaking air. "I... I saw it! It was it! It did it!!"
"Who?"
Boss Sang clutched his head, his face contorted as if about to explode. "It was... a person. No, a shadow. It was hiding behind that curtain, holding those photos."
"It was a Japanese! It was definitely a Japanese!" Boss Sang's eyes burned red. "His shadow fell on the curtain, and I saw the katana at his waist!"
"Then a song began to play, a strange, eerie melody that seemed to pierce the heart. It wasn't from here. It was a Japanese song!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion.
(End of the Chapter)
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