SES Chapter 124 Part 2

“And Yi Wansan?”

“He’s on the fence. If there’s a crowd, he’ll go. If not, he won’t.”

Luo Ren chuckled. Yi Wansan was a man of principles, after all.

He said, “Have Fatty Cao drive and pick me up at the hospital.”

That night, their Hummer rattled to a stop along the edge of a rice field. In the distance, silhouetted against the sky, loomed the half-bodied statue of a horse rearing on its front legs—head grotesquely missing.

Yi Wansan snapped at Cao. “If you can’t drive, don’t! You’re shaking me dizzy!”

“The car’s heavy! The road’s bad!” Cao shot back.

Amid their bickering, Mu Dai and Luo Ren climbed out.

To reach the platform, they had to descend into the fields, cutting across rows of thick rice stalks.

Luo Ren turned. “We’ll go two in front, two behind. Stay sharp, don’t let your guard down.”

At his words, both Cao and Yi Wansan stiffened a little. Mu Dai instinctively spaced herself apart from him, one taking the lead, the other the rear.

Cao clutched his flashlight. The soft earth crunched and snapped underfoot—sometimes stalks breaking, sometimes an empty can or bottle clattering where thrill-seekers had passed before them.

His palms were sweaty.

Mu Dai glanced at him sideways. “You’re the one who begged to come, but now you’re scared out of your wits.”

“Little master, aren’t you scared?” Cao retorted.

“After everything I’ve been through? Not much left that can scare me.”

Hearing that, Luo Ren, walking ahead, chuckled softly.

She wasn’t wrong. She’d been through plenty: a knife to the throat (his doing), nearly drowned, fighting Yan Hongsha over a pearl in an old clam’s shell, brawling with wild men, almost run over, diagnosed with a terminal illness, framed as a murderer…

As the saying goes, the first time was frightening, the second time familiar. Survive once, and the next time didn’t seem so bad.

Mu Dai was right—there weren’t many things left that could scare her. Unless, of course, a ghost in red high heels really did come striding out of Tengma Rock Platform.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Cao suddenly screamed bloody murder, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.

Luo Ren spun around. Cao was pointing left, babbling, “Head! A head!”

Luo Ren swung his flashlight beam that way. The bright cone of light swept across dense rice stalks. A gust of wind stirred them, bowing the whole patch in waves.

“What head?” Luo Ren asked.

Cao’s face was slick with cold sweat.

He had been trailing behind Mu Dai, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark. Shapes and outlines became clearer—until he happened to glance sideways.

In that instant, everything seemed to line up perfectly for maximum shock: the wind bowed the heavy stalks, revealing a figure standing rigid among them. Or rather…just a head.

Thinking back later, it wasn’t truly terrifying—just someone hiding in the field. But in that moment, with the eerie setting, the tension, and the adrenaline rush, it had been enough to break him.

Luo Ren moved toward the spot, sweeping the light up and down. The night was unnervingly quiet, the rice whispering against his legs.

Mu Dai, tense, signaled Cao and Yi Wansan to stay close behind her.

In such an open place, it was nearly impossible to pinpoint sound. Too much noise from the wind and fields, while someone’s deliberate, shallow breathing was barely detectable.

They watched as Luo Ren stopped, crouched, and lifted something off the ground. Then he turned back.

Cao’s flashlight trembled as it lit the object in Luo Ren’s hand. At the sight, even Mu Dai felt her heart jolt.

It was a pair of shoes—scuffed-down red high heels, the leather peeling, the toe patched where it had come apart.

Cao’s teeth chattered.

Wasn’t there a story? That if you pressed your ear against Tengma Rock Platform to hear its heartbeat, a wind would sweep past, and when you looked down, there’d be a pair of red high heels behind you?

So why…why were they here now, in the middle of a rice field?

His voice shook. “A pair of shoes… just appeared out of nowhere?”

Luo Ren replied, “Not a pair of shoes suddenly appearing—someone was wearing them. That person ran off, and the shoes were left behind.”

“How do you know someone was wearing them first?”

Expressionless, Luo Ren looked straight at Cao Yanhua. “Fatty Cao, you looking to get smacked?”

He held the shoes up toward Cao Yanhua. “Take a whiff. See if they’re still warm.”

Cao Yanhua scrambled backward, and Mu Dai quietly laughed to herself, thinking Luo Ren had been humbled a bit.

Luo Ren flipped the shoe over. “It’s a high heel. Even though the sole is worn, it still has a heel. This whole area’s dirt—running in these would definitely leave tracks.”

He set the shoes down.

At least it wasn’t a total dead end—they could tell the person was probably a woman.

Suddenly, something occurred to Luo Ren. “Wan San, pull up that surveillance footage.”

Not knowing why, Wan San still pulled out his phone and played the video. The glow from the screen lit their faces against the pitch-black rice field, making them all look grim.

Luo Ren had already watched this footage countless times today.

He pointed at a lone woman walking apart from the group. “Can you see what kind of shoes she’s wearing?”

Wan San paused the video, clipped a still image, and zoomed in.

Too much noise, too blurry, the colors distorted.

Hesitant, Wan San muttered, “Not very clear… but from the outline, it kinda looks like it.”

The words left him uneasy. He glanced around nervously, lowering his voice. “Is she still here?”

Luo Ren said, “Not necessarily. But if she is, she’s hiding well.”

Then, as if recalling something, he said quietly, “Wait here.”

He strode quickly to the car parked at the edge of the ridge. The beam of Cao Yanhua’s flashlight followed him, catching him as he opened the car door, pulled something from under the back seat, and hurried back.

Cao Yanhua wanted to ask what he’d grabbed, but since Luo Ren wasn’t offering, he wisely dropped it. When they continued toward the Horse Platform, it suddenly struck him—he quickly scooped the abandoned shoes off the ground again.

He cursed under his breath: Why return these to that creepy woman? Let her walk barefoot.

They neared the Horse Platform.

The rice fields curved around it, leaving an open circular space.

The flashlight lit up the cement statue of the galloping horse, missing half its head. On the round base were layers of scrawled words in correction fluid and pasted paper charms, most of them peeling and weathered by wind and rain.

With the light on it, it didn’t seem half as scary as it had in the dark.

With his own people all around him, Cao Yanhua wasn’t as spooked as before. In fact, he rushed ahead, pressed his ear to the platform.

Cold. Rough. Heavy. Solid. Just like any concrete slab.

Seizing the moment, Mu Dai whispered to Luo Ren, “What did you just go back to get?”

“A thermal imager.”

As he spoke, he pulled it from his jacket. It looked like a monocular camera. He held it to his eye, fixed on a reference point, then slowly swept right in a fan shape—frame by frame, degree by degree.

When the device angled toward one spot, Mu Dai noticed Luo Ren’s breathing quicken.

He lowered his hand, passed her the imager, and murmured, “Look over there. Don’t be scared.”