The woman in red hadn't spoken to a living person in a long time. The moment she saw Song Miaozhu staring at the ground, she couldn't wait to say:
"You figured it out? My yin residence is right under here! My bones are buried beneath—sealed in a cement coffin, airtight, no bugs or rats to worry about."
"Suicide or murder?" Song Miaozhu asked.
The woman hadn't even tried to hide her cause of death—anyone could see she'd been murdered. If she weren't so disturbingly cheerful about it, Song Miaozhu wouldn't have even entertained the idea of suicide.
"How could it be suicide?!" The woman in red finally looked a little angry. "I was young and healthy—who would just decide to off themselves for fun? Hmph!"
Knock knock knock.
A loud knock came from the door.
The ghost immediately panicked. "Hey, hey, hey! How many people did you bring? You're not trying to arrest me, are you?! I'm telling you, I've been haunting this place legally and peacefully. I've never hurt anyone! When people wander in by mistake, I even send them dreams to guide them away—at my own expense, mind you! If you take me in, you're ruining your karmic balance, you know that?"
"Relax. No one's arresting you," Song Miaozhu said, then shot a look at Zhao Mumu, who immediately opened the door.
Outside stood five burly men, a white-haired old man who looked like a seasoned ghost hunter, and a young dorm supervisor leading the way.
Every single one of them looked like trouble.
The ghost's face twisted in betrayal. "You said you weren't here to catch me!"
With a whoosh, she vanished into the floor, pacing frantically inside her yin residence.
"Brother! You're here!" Zhao Mumu waved them in. "This ghost seems pretty fierce!"
Lin Jiaojiao and Xu Xiaodan nodded vigorously.
From their perspective, Song Miaozhu's conversation with the ghost hadn't exactly been friendly.
The ghost poked her head up from the floor and insisted, "I'm not fierce! I just look rough because I died badly!"
Old Master Zhao stumbled back at the sudden appearance of a disembodied head.
Everyone else's expressions turned even more serious.
The dorm supervisor quickly ushered Lin Jiaojiao and Xu Xiaodan out. "You two, go back first. It's not safe here."
Zhao Huoyan glanced at Song Miaozhu. "These two are from the city's violent crimes division, this one's the campus police liaison, and that's the university's academic affairs director. Who is this ghost? Can she be subdued?"
The four newcomers studied the room with a mix of curiosity and readiness, clearly briefed in advance. Even the dorm supervisor asked, "How dangerous is she? We've already cleared the first floor. Should we evacuate the whole building?"
Song Miaozhu: "..."
She had to admit—Zhao Huoyan worked fast. In just one night, he'd coordinated with both the police and the university.
But: "No danger. This ghost isn't aggressive."
"Right, right!" Old Master Zhao added. "It's just… her appearance is startling. I got spooked seeing her suddenly."
The ghost huffed. "Who bothers wasting ghostly energy on makeup at home? Murder victims don't get pretty death faces!"
After Old Master Zhao relayed her words, the group fell silent.
She really didn't sound like a threat.
Zhao Mumu flushed, realizing she'd overreacted.
"What's your name? How did you die? Who killed you? Was the case ever solved?" Song Miaozhu pressed. "The police are here. If you have grievances, speak now. We'll also arrange for your remains to be properly buried."
"No, no, no! I don't want to be moved!" The ghost waved her hands frantically. "I've got a great setup here—no wind, no rain, no disturbances, plus I get to eavesdrop on the neighbors' gossip! You think I don't know about modern cemeteries? Twenty years and someone's gotta pay up! I've got no family to foot the bill. You'd make me a homeless ghost!"
She crossed her arms. "As for the killer—do what you want. Even if he gets away now, the underworld will settle the score. Hell's punishments make prison look like a vacation."
Song Miaozhu: "..."
She'd suspected as much when she spotted the Qingming paper flowers (a funerary offering) in the room. To ghosts, a yin residence was a two-door home—the front gate leading to the mortal grave, the back gate to the underworld. With the ghost's body buried beneath the dorm, this room was her doorstep.
And she'd even decorated it with offerings.
She was happy here.
As Old Master Zhao translated, the others reacted differently.
"What's a yin residence?" asked Zhao Huoyan, more interested in the ghostly stuff.
The criminal investigators, however, honed in on the key issue. "A murder really happened here? The body's still in the building?"
The university official looked baffled. "We've never had a single missing person case in this dorm building. Could she be someone from outside the school?"
Song Miaozhu turned back to the ghost. "Start with your identity and how you died. We'll discuss burial later—I promise you won't lose your home."
Only then did the ghost sigh and begin:
"My name's E Hongjuan. Ten years ago, I was a senior living in this dorm. I stayed past move-out day to save on rent while finishing an article for a magazine."
She gestured at herself. "I was poor but… not bad-looking, I guess. The dorm supervisor's husband noticed. Don't know his name, but her surname was Yan."
Her voice flattened. "One night, he knocked. I thought it was the supervisor, so I opened the door. The bastard tried to force himself on me. I grabbed the nearest thing—a thermos—and smashed it over his head."
A bitter laugh she add. "Pity I'd been too busy writing to refill it. Empty. Didn't even stun him. He flew into a rage, choked me, then bashed my skull in with his flashlight—one of those old metal ones."
She touched her bloodied temple absently. "After I died, the coward panicked. The dorm was due for renovations anyway, so he locked this room, buried me under the tiles, and pretended I'd moved out."
A shrug. "I was an orphan. No cell phone, no one to check on me. This floor stayed mostly empty—near the bathrooms, always smelled weird. No one suspected a thing."
She grinned, showing too many teeth. "Honestly, I thought my story would stay hidden till the building collapsed."
E Hongjuan recounted her death with eerie calm, even a bit of self-mockery. Her only real regret seemed to be that the thermos had no hot water in it—if it had, she might've scalded that bastard to death.