Chapter 3 The Lone City (3)

Chapter 3: The Lonely City (Part Three)

A fierce wind suddenly kicked up in the night, thunder boomed, and bolt after bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, their harsh white light illuminating a corner of the room.

The thunder jolted Lin Yanqing awake. He'd been sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning several times before sitting up. It had been so hot at dusk he'd had the fan on, but the temperature plummeted after nightfall, leaving him covered in goosebumps.

He grabbed a jacket from the closet, wrapped it around himself, and walked to the living room. Although the apartment was cozily decorated, at its core, it was an old place. The walls weren't damp-proof, and water tended to seep in during typhoons.

Sure enough, rainwater was seeping through cracks in the wall, trickling down the corner and forming puddles on the floor.

Lin Yanqing mopped the floor dry and placed a few basins under the leaking spot. It was past midnight, and he was exhausted, ready to go back to bed when suddenly a cold drop landed on his forehead.

Drip—drip—

Lin Yanqing looked up. Water was dripping from the middle of the ceiling. He guessed the upstairs neighbor hadn't closed the window, and rainwater had soaked through the floor, causing a leak in the ceiling.

He sighed helplessly, first taking down the clothes hanging on the balcony. It was late; knocking on the door now might not get a response. But if he left it, by morning the place might be flooded.

Returning to the living room, after turning it over in his mind, Lin Yanqing decided to go knock on the door.

Just then, the door to the second bedroom opened. Xia Li came out holding an iPad, looking panicked.

"What's wrong? Is your room leaking too?" Lin Yanqing asked.

"No." Xia Li, who was still up, said, shocked, "I was just chatting with Yun Chuan, and he told me some gossip. Xidan is missing."

Xidan was the first food blogger on the Little Pumpkin app to surpass ten million followers. His ancestors included imperial chefs, and he was proficient in all eight major Chinese cuisines—not an amateur like Xia Li.

Lin Yanqing, hurrying to put on shoes to go upstairs, said, "I saw his new video just yesterday."

"Yun Chuan told me. No one can reach Xidan now. No one knows where he filmed those videos. And it's weird—his recent videos have all been advertising for Aimeile. He never used to advertise health supplements. People online are slamming him."

Lin Yanqing had a splitting headache. He said, "There's a leak from upstairs. I'm going to knock on their door. You stay home, lock the door, okay?"

Xia Li did as he was told and sat down, still stunned by the news. Seeing clothes piled on the sofa, he put down the iPad and, while shocked, started folding the clothes.

*Ding.* The elevator door opened. Lin Yanqing stepped in. Just as the door was closing, he heard the sound of a security door opening, faintly coming from unit 1901—Jiang Songnian's apartment.

Lin Yanqing's heart skipped a beat. He realized Jiang Songnian had left after him, but the elevator door had already closed, and he couldn't confirm it.

The elevator quickly reached the 20th floor. Lin Yanqing walked to unit 2002 and pressed the doorbell several times.

It was cold outside. He rubbed his arms, feeling anxious. No one answered. He pressed the bell a few more times; the ringing echoed, and he could clearly hear footsteps inside the living room from outside the door, but still no one came to open it.

In the middle of the night, Lin Yanqing didn't want to disturb the neighbors too much by shouting. He could only keep pressing the doorbell.

After nearly ten minutes, the door creaked open. The security chain was latched inside, allowing only a fist-sized gap. Lin Yanqing stepped closer to the crack, peering through the narrow opening.

The room was quiet, emitting a strange smell—like the damp, musty odor of the rainy season, mixed with a faint scent of blood.

"What are you looking at?" Zhao Yong said coldly.

The unpleasant smell grew stronger. Lin Yanqing frowned, covering his nose with the back of his hand, and said in a low voice, "Mr. Zhao, your balcony is leaking."

Lin Yanqing had interacted with the Zhao couple a few times. They were difficult to communicate with, often disturbing the neighbors late at night—either arguing and breaking things or having friends over for all-night parties. Reasoning with them was useless, and calling the police didn't help. After the police left, they would retaliate with even more noise, sometimes even shouting out the window, giving the neighbors headaches.

Lin Yanqing braced himself for Zhao Yong's outburst, but today Zhao Yong was unusually calm. He muttered "Got it" in a low voice and then slammed the door shut.

Lin Yanqing sighed. The temperature seemed to have dropped again, making him shiver. He hurriedly took the elevator downstairs.

The rain was gradually stopping. Lin Yanqing returned home and checked the balcony again. After waiting over ten minutes, the ceiling stopped leaking. Presumably, Zhao Yong had dealt with it.

He let out a long sigh of relief, but the strange smell still seemed to linger in his nostrils.

Rainwater streaked the windows, the traces not yet dry. The night was pitch black, and streetlights cast an eerie glow through the refracted rain. Suddenly, he heard a piercing scream, like a wild cat's cry—but only for an instant before the night returned to its deep, quiet stillness.

Lin Yanqing felt a wave of panic, as if danger was approaching in the darkness, using the night as cover to devour the entire city.

The next day, Lin Yanqing woke up to clear skies. The neighborhood had been washed clean by the rain. Sunlight streamed through the window, and the air was fresh and pleasant. Lin Yanqing pushed open the window, took a deep breath, and felt the fatigue gradually fade from his body.

Xia Li, who had stayed up late, was still asleep. After washing up, Lin Yanqing sent him a text message and then headed to the market to buy fresh ingredients for the day.

Meat at the supermarket often went on sale, with varying quality. With careful selection, one could find fresher meat than at the market. However, the quality of vegetables was far inferior—whether in price, variety, or freshness, the market was the best choice.

Lin Yanqing wanted to buy a steamed bun for breakfast first. Passing by the community garden, he noticed a crowd gathered, whispering among themselves, including some members of the homeowners' association.

Lin Yanqing suddenly remembered the scream from last night. Before his mind could fully process it, his feet had already carried him over.

Several aunties were walking back from the crowd, their faces twisted as if they had seen something filthy, waving their hands and saying, "Don't look, don't look. What a sin. Who could be so wicked?"

"Such a fine little dog, gutted just like that. They deserve a terrible death."

Lin Yanqing approached the crowd. A member of the homeowners' association was wrapping the puppy's body in a plastic bag. It was a small dog, not only gutted but also with its internal organs removed, leaving only a thin layer of skin, making it appear especially tiny.

Lin Yanqing's throat tightened. His hand in his jacket pocket trembled slightly. He recognized this dog. It wasn't a stray; it was a rescued dog adopted by Granny Liu from Building 21. As a community volunteer, Lin Yanqing had delivered flyers to Granny Liu's home and had seen the dog.

Lin Yanqing stood there for a while, watching as the association member carried away the plastic bag, then scrubbed the ground with cleaner and water. The bloodstains faded until, eventually, the crowd dispersed as if nothing had happened.

Later, Lin Yanqing also left. His body felt stiff, his stomach empty, yet he had no appetite. He went directly to the market, bought some vegetables and fruit, and passed by the bun shop, where he bought a few buns to take back for Xia Li's breakfast.

Lin Yanqing lived in Building 20. As he passed Building 21, his steps halted.

Granny Liu lived on the first floor, now just over ten meters away from him. After some thought, he decided to visit her, hoping to offer some comfort in her grief. She lived alone; her son worked in another city and didn't visit often.

Lin Yanqing switched the heavy plastic bag to his other hand, shook his arm, and entered Building 21.

The motion-sensor light on the first floor was broken, leaving the hallway dim. Just as Lin Yanqing was about to knock, he caught a strong, pungent smell of blood—so foul it was impossible to ignore.

Hesitating for a moment, Lin Yanqing finally pressed the doorbell. There was no answer from inside. Perhaps Granny Liu had gone out. When he went to knock, he noticed the security door wasn't fully closed, left slightly ajar.

Surprised, he held the doorknob and gently pushed the door open.

The moment the door opened, the smell of blood assaulted him. What met his eyes was Granny Liu sitting in a rocking chair. She wore long-sleeved pajamas soaked in blood, the original color unrecognizable. The sleeve on one arm was torn, revealing mangled flesh from shoulder to arm, as if chewed by a wild dog, exposing blood-stained bone. Her mouth was slightly open, her face ashen. Flies buzzed around her.

Lin Yanqing was terrified out of his wits by the scene. He let out a sharp, involuntary scream. His wrist went weak, the bag dropping to the ground, pumpkins and tomatoes rolling everywhere. Trembling all over, he stepped back, fumbling for his phone in a panic, but his fingers seemed disobedient, unable to reach into his pocket.

Suddenly, he backed into someone. Startled, he jumped reflexively, struggling to get away.

The person quickly wrapped his arms around him and said in a deep voice, "Don't be afraid!"

Lin Yanqing looked up. It was Jiang Songnian. His resolute face was close, and as if to soothe Lin Yanqing, Jiang Songnian raised an eyebrow, revealing an ambiguous smile.

Lin Yanqing stared at that handsome, smiling face. His stomach churned, his throat tightened, and he suddenly vomited.

Jiang Songnian's smile froze, his face instantly turning as dark as iron.