Chapter 65

Chapter 65

The dim room was lit by only a single candle.

The light was incredibly weak and its color was unnatural.

I once heard Old Zhao Seven say that when a place is heavy with Yin energy or haunted by a Ghost, a lit candle will burn with a pale green flame.

And right now, what I saw was a pale green flame.

Next to the candle sat a chair.

And in that chair sat a person.

That person was dead, her skin an unnatural shade of bluish-purple.

She wore a red bridal gown, her hands resting flat on her lap and her eyes tightly shut, as if she were merely asleep.

I froze completely, then spun around, desperate to run out.

But since I had been lured here, escaping wouldn’t be that easy.

I had just turned around and hadn’t even stepped out the door when it slammed shut as if someone had pushed it from the outside, letting out a loud bang.

I fumbled for the lock like a madman, only to realize that no matter how hard I twisted, the door wouldn’t budge.

It was as if it were locked tight from the outside, refusing to let me leave.

I quickly turned back around, pressing my back against the door as I stared in terror at the woman in the chair.

I finally understood what had been stolen during the second break-in at Du Ruhai’s home.

It was Du Yuwei’s remains!

No wonder Du Ruhai had been so anxious. The day before Fang Man’s accident, he had personally come to the hospital, humbling himself to seek a reconciliation with us.

Because what he had lost was the woman he loved most.

I remembered Old Zhao Seven saying that Du Yuwei’s Ghost could enter and leave Du Ruhai’s villa at will, but because her remains were trapped inside, her Ghost was tethered there as well.

She could come and go, but she couldn’t truly leave; she could be summoned back by Du Ruhai at any time.

But now that her remains had left the villa, it meant her Ghost was finally free.

Du Ruhai had lost Du Yuwei completely.

“What exactly do you want?” I couldn’t help but ask.

But I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth.

I was terrified she would suddenly snap her eyes open and answer me.

Furthermore, this apartment was practically sealed off. The doors to the other rooms were all locked, and even the living room windows were boarded up tight.

If Du Yuwei wanted to do something to me, I wouldn’t even be able to find a place to jump out of the building.

I stood with my back against the door, locked in a stalemate with Du Yuwei for nearly half an hour.

During that time, I balanced my fear of her with my racing thoughts.

But for the entire thirty minutes, her remains didn’t move an inch.

Mustering some courage, I began to observe the other items in the room.

The furnishings were sparse: aside from a cabinet, there was only the chair and a table.

Du Yuwei’s remains were in the chair. On the table sat a burning White Candle and a black-and-white photograph of Du Yuwei.

In front of the photograph were several offerings.

It finally clicked-did Du Yuwei’s remains… walk out on their own, or did someone steal them?

If she could have walked out herself, she should have been able to escape that villa long ago.

So… someone really did steal her away.

And these offerings-she couldn’t have bought them for herself, could she?

Someone had stolen her from the villa, hidden her here, and even bought offerings for her.

Who could it be?

Could it be Old Zhao Seven?

Bolstered by a sudden surge of bravery, I walked over to the cabinet.

It was a small wardrobe, and the door wasn’t locked.
I slowly pulled open the wardrobe door. Inside the small space hung a selection of women’s clothing.

I didn’t dare touch anything, but one familiar outfit caught my eye immediately.

It was a long black dress hanging on a rack, with a pair of red high heels neatly placed beneath it.

The sight of that ensemble sent a jolt of terror through me, like a bird startled by a bowstring. I stumbled back two steps, my head snapping around to look at Du Yuwei’s corpse.

There wasn’t just that one outfit in the wardrobe; there were several.

Did she… have to change clothes whenever she went out?

Do ghosts need to change their outfits too?

Just then, I noticed something tucked away in the top compartment of the wardrobe.

I reached up and felt around, pulling down a notebook.

It looked like a diary.

I froze, not daring to open it at first.

This diary likely belonged to Du Yuwei. With the owner right here, should I read it or not?

“I’m going to read this…”

“If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes…”

I turned to ask the owner for permission. Since she remained silent, I assumed she had agreed.

The candlelight was dim, but I could just barely make out the contents of the diary.

I flipped through the pages one by one. The handwriting was elegant and refined-unmistakably a woman’s script.

After reading a page or two, I was certain: this was Du Yuwei’s diary.

But as I read, I found only one thing within those pages… despair.

It was Du Yuwei’s despair.

With every page I turned, that sense of hopelessness intensified.

This diary chronicled Du Yuwei’s life. Her life hadn’t been long, yet it seemed she had been living in purgatory.

The words recorded repression, fear, sorrow, disappointment, and Du Ruhai’s atrocities…

The first page, in particular, had been written eight years ago. Du Yuwei would have been about thirteen then.

Even then, she already understood what Du Ruhai was doing to her.

I flipped forward to an entry from three years ago. At that time, Du Yuwei was eighteen.

In this entry, she had gone to report Du Ruhai.

Driven by some inexplicable impulse, I felt a flicker of excitement on her behalf.

I was seeing Du Yuwei fight back. She had finally learned to resist.

But as I read the rest of the entry, my heart was once again filled with despair…

“I know that what he’s done to me is enough to get him the death penalty. So, I wrote a report to turn him in. Once he’s executed, I’ll rightfully inherit his estate.”

“Once I have a lot of money, I can go find my mother. Everyone has a mother; I must have one too, otherwise, how was I born?”

“I gave the report to the police and told them everything he did to me. I showed them my scars-the ones from when I was little and the ones from now. I believe the police will give me justice.”

“I went home that night, knowing that in a few days, he would be arrested. Once he’s executed, I’ll go and spit on his grave. But to my horror, the letter I gave to the police ended up in his hands. He held that letter, slapped it hard against my face, and told me I was playing with fire.”

“That night, I was beaten terribly. He put a rope around my neck and made me crawl on the floor like a dog…”

I snapped the diary shut, not daring to read any further.

This diary… it was affecting my emotions.

I was actually feeling every bit of Du Yuwei’s despair.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.