“There’s a ghost.”
After the initial shock, Shen Kui forced herself to calm down. She mulled over those two words repeatedly, trying to grasp Tian Ke’s intention when leaving the secret signal.
She recalled the phone call with the reversed sequence, the face emerging from the shadows in the surveillance footage… Could it be that Tian Ke had truly encountered some inexplicable phenomena?
Shen Kui didn’t believe that “there’s a ghost” was meant literally. She was more inclined to think that Tian Ke had encountered some crisis beyond rational explanation. In a critical moment, perhaps Tian Ke could only choose this method to convey a message as accurately and discreetly as possible.
And this precisely indicated that the crisis Tian Ke faced had made her unable to trust anyone around her.
Tian Ke knew that, given Shen Kui’s meticulousness and sharpness, she would return to the scene to investigate. This pattern was a secret shared only between the two of them, impossible for anyone else to decipher. Even if she had met an unfortunate end, this message would eventually reach Shen Kui.
The more Shen Kui pondered, the more alarmed she became. How many mysteries had been hidden in her seemingly uneventful life? When had Tian Ke been drawn into these anomalies? Why had she remained completely unaware for so long?
She remembered Tian Ke’s final admonition, repeatedly urging her not to investigate anything related to 3 a.m., even going to great lengths to cover up traces to prevent her from probing further.
What was so special about this time? Why was it worth Tian Ke expending so much effort to stop her?
Just then, voices echoed from the stairwell. Not wanting to be discovered, Shen Kui turned and hid in a corner.
Two janitors from the mall came up the stairs. One of them walked to the center of the rooftop and pointed to the spot where Tian Ke had fallen. “Right here. You didn’t see it last night. What a scene. Tsk tsk, it was awful.”
The other said, “I can’t bear to look at such things. It’s terrifying. I heard it was a young girl?”
“Exactly. She was only in her twenties. I saw her downstairs. Her body was so mangled her parents probably wouldn’t recognize her. I don’t know why she’d do something like this.”
“You don’t understand. Young people nowadays are fragile. Take the son of Aunt Wang from the village next to mine. He’s also in his early twenties…”
Shen Kui didn’t listen to the rest. While the two were distracted, she slipped into the stairwell and retraced her steps.
When she reached the apartment building, a crowd of young people had gathered at the entrance. Several college-aged youths had set up tables in the open area, piled high with forms and flyers. Without looking closely, Shen Kui skirted the crowd and headed home.
A short-haired girl quickly approached and stopped her. “Miss, could you spare two minutes to fill out a form? We’re conducting a social survey. Please?”
Shen Kui intended to refuse, but the girl’s round face reminded her inexplicably of Tian Ke, softening her heart. She took the form and glanced at it. It contained questions about religious beliefs. It’s not too many, so it shouldn’t take long.
“Let’s go over there to fill it out. I’ll get you a pen.” Seeing her agreement, the girl excitedly led Shen Kui to the table, found a pen, and handed it to her. “If you’re uncomfortable sharing personal information, you can just fill in whatever you like.”
Shen Kui nodded, quickly finished filling out the form, and handed it back to the girl. Casually, she asked, “Are you studying religious studies?”
“We’re all from the same school. We’re good friends and came out together for a social practice project. Only she and I are religious studies majors,” she said, pointing to a long-haired girl behind the table who was buried in writing. “The others are all physics majors.”
“I see,” Shen Kui replied, pretending to be nonchalant. “So, do you usually study much about niche Western religious sects?”
“We cover most of the historically documented ones, mainly focusing on their impact on society. The deeper the impact, the more we study them,” the girl answered earnestly.
Shen Kui nodded thoughtfully, feigning casual curiosity. “I don’t know much about religion, but I heard a friend mention something about a sect called the Yishen Cult? Have you heard of it?”
“Yishen Cult?” The girl paused, thinking for a moment before suddenly clapping her hands. “Ah! I remember now. That’s a niche cult from the medieval period! How does your friend know about it?”
At this point, she suddenly grew wary. “Your friend isn’t trying to persuade you to join, is she? You absolutely must not! Yishen Cult is an extremely niche and sinister sect. I remember many Western countries issued public statements in the mid-20th century strictly prohibiting its continued spread. It’s also banned in our country!”
Shen Kui opened her mouth to speak. But before she could say anything, the girl hastily grabbed a stack of flyers from the table and shoved them into her hands. “Take a look at these. Don’t fall into the wrong path!”
Shen Kui glanced down. The top flyer was emblazoned with bold black text: “Cherish Life, Stay Away from Cults”. Below it, in smaller print, it read: “Guard Against Cult Infiltration, Fortify Mental Defenses, Care for People’s Mental Health”.
Shen Kui: “…”
With a complicated expression, she carefully stored the flyers and repeatedly assured the girl that she would never stray down the wrong path before finally managing to extricate herself.
Back home, Shen Kui placed the thick stack of flyers by the door and pulled out her phone.
Her phone had been vibrating nonstop since earlier. When she opened it, the chat history in the WeChat group had already reached 99+ messages, with new ones still pouring in.
Most of the messages were from classmates who hadn’t attended last night’s gathering. It seemed they had gradually learned about Tian Ke’s incident and were seeking confirmation in the group.
Amid the flood of condolences and disbelief, one particular message caught Shen Kui’s attention:
“Last night, I felt like Ke Ke wasn’t herself. At the beginning, she kept holding her phone, chatting with someone, looking really upset. Then she suddenly left, and after that… well, you know what happened. The police investigation results aren’t out yet, so we shouldn’t speculate. But I think she might have been under a lot of pressure…”
This reminded Shen Kui. She recalled seeing Tian Ke frowning while texting last night. But with everything that happened afterward, she had momentarily forgotten about this odd detail.
She quickly retrieved Tian Ke’s phone and opened WeChat.
Tian Ke had a wide social circle and many friends, so her unread messages were densely packed. Shen Kui spent some time skimming through the conversations in her chat windows, but found nothing suspicious for now.
She was about to exit WeChat when her finger accidentally tapped the contacts list, causing the screen to instantly switch. Shen Kui’s eyes immediately landed on the starred friends section at the top. And there, unmistakably, was the extra person from the class group chat!
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sarcastisaurus On CFRFGC Chapter 80