Chapter 40: The Tragic Scene in the Small Room

Qiu Yiyao was taken aback.

What did he mean by "know the way"? Where was he taking her? Or had her acting been so poor that he had seen right through her?

She glanced at Bai Peiyu, then lowered her head, lost in thought.

Watching her expressive face, Bai Peiyu found the sight rather amusing. He climbed onto his motorcycle and tapped the passenger seat, reminding her, "If you aren't coming, I’m leaving."

"Go then! Who’s afraid of you?"

Not wanting to be outdone, Qiu Yiyao climbed onto the back and put on her helmet, stubbornly turning her head away to avoid looking at him.

The bike traveled from the bustling town center to the foot of the mountains on the outskirts. The area was dominated by towering peaks and ancient, sky-piercing trees. The surrounding houses were sparse and dilapidated—old, single-story dwellings that looked as if they might collapse at any moment.

Looking at the scene before her, Qiu Yiyao had a rough guess as to where they were, though she dared not be certain.

Just then, a woman wearing a floral shirt, jeans, and long, flowing hair emerged from one of the small houses, holding a winnowing basket. Her makeup was exquisite, her bright red lips looking completely incongruous against the backdrop of the crumbling shack.

"Isn’t the reason you were sneaking around the police station digging through files because you wanted to come here? Well, go ahead."

Bai Peiyu’s words confirmed Qiu Yiyao’s suspicions. This was the home of the middle-aged man, and the woman, who looked to be in her forties, was likely his wife.

Qiu Yiyao hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and asking politely, "Excuse me, you must be Old Yu’s wife, right?"

The bumpy ride had rattled most of the details she had gleaned from the files out of her head; all she clearly remembered was that the man’s surname was Yu.

The woman eyed her warily. "Who are you?"

"I’m a friend of Old Yu’s. I heard about what happened to him, so I came to pay a visit."

As she spoke, Qiu Yiyao peered into the house from time to time. It was the holiday season; the children should be home, but the interior seemed deathly quiet.

The woman’s expression was cold. "There’s nothing to see. You probably won’t see him again anyway. Please leave."

Her face remained as if covered in a layer of frost, and she spoke of her husband as if she were talking about a stranger.

This was highly abnormal. If it were anyone else, having the breadwinner of the family fall would leave them in despair; they would hardly have the mood to dress up.

It seemed she was a supernatural creature too.

Perhaps it was precisely because he had witnessed his wife’s bizarre behavior at home that Old Yu had discovered something?

Thinking of what the police had said about him having children, Qiu Yiyao was desperate to see if the child was also a creature. If not, then the child was likely in grave danger.

Not wanting to waste time beating around the bush, Qiu Yiyao asked directly, "Is the young one not home? Isn’t school on summer break?"

"He went out to play in town."

The woman spoke dismissively and, ignoring Qiu Yiyao further, walked to a nearby chicken coop to feed the birds. Seeing the food, the hens flapped their wings and swarmed around her. A pungent stench of chicken droppings wafted over, and Qiu Yiyao couldn't help but pinch her nose.

She looked back to see Bai Peiyu leaning against his motorcycle with his arms crossed, a faint, inscrutable smile on his lips.

That guy must be mocking me again, she thought. I can't let him look down on me.

Annoyed, and seeing that the woman was busy feeding the chickens and ignoring her, Qiu Yiyao endured the stench and walked over to the coop. "Um, could I come in and ask for a glass of water?"

"Go ahead. The water is in the kitchen."

The woman responded dully, not even lifting her eyelids.

Qiu Yiyao felt a surge of secret delight and hurried into the house. The structure was simple, following the layout of an 80s or 90s bungalow: a central living room with a kitchen and bedroom on either side.

The water was in the kitchen, but that wasn't Qiu Yiyao’s true goal. She headed straight for the bedroom. The room was small and had been partitioned into two, with a small door leading to a back chamber.

Qiu Yiyao was certain that must be the child’s room. She walked inside without hesitation.

Suddenly, a thick, metallic scent of blood drifted into her nose. The smell was so pungent it hit her brain, and she couldn't help but gag.

She realized what it was and her heart tightened. Such a strong smell of blood, and here in the bedroom—this was bad. Something terrible had happened.

She instinctively took two steps back, but her curiosity, combined with an inexplicable sense of responsibility, pushed her to step back inside.

Before her was a small, three-foot-wide bed draped with a mosquito net. The light from the window was dim, making it difficult to see clearly.

"Is anyone there?"

There was no response.

Qiu Yiyao flipped the switch on the wall, and the overhead bulb flickered to life. Although it wasn't very bright, it was better than nothing.

She approached the small bed cautiously. Suddenly, a "drip, drip" sound reached her ears, like water hitting the floor.

Holding her breath, she slowly bent down to look under the bed.

She found herself staring into a pair of terrified, wide-open eyes. The boy’s mouth was agape, and he lay frozen in that position beneath the frame.

Qiu Yiyao covered her mouth in shock.

He was a child, no more than ten years old. Fresh blood trickled down his tender face like a winding, crimson snake. His fingers were curled and dug deeply into the floor; it was clear that before he died, he had been desperately trying to crawl out from under the bed, but his efforts had been in vain.

On the bed frame directly above the boy’s head, blood was slowly dripping down, one drop at a time, with rhythmic precision.

Had he been murdered on the bed and then stuffed underneath?

Qiu Yiyao’s hand trembled as she reached out to pull back the mosquito net. The sight on the bed sent a jolt through her nerves.

A small body lay there, the head tightly covered by a quilt. Blood had spread to the edge of the bed, and a pink pajama top was soaked through with crimson.

"There were... two children."

Qiu Yiyao’s body trembled uncontrollably. She had thought she had grown accustomed to such horrific scenes. It was only now that she realized she only possessed true courage when facing the demonic entities that preyed upon humanity. When she saw her own kind being cruelly slaughtered, the feeling of helplessness threatened to consume her.

She stared fixedly at the blood-stained pink pajamas.

She remembered a scene from the train. A handsome little boy had been holding the hand of a little girl in a pink dress, standing in front of the last carriage, comforting her, "Daddy will be here soon."

The girl’s face had been pale, her frame thin, and she had coughed occasionally—she had clearly been ill.

Qiu Yiyao had glanced at the two children a few extra times as she passed them. The boy had even politely called out, "Hello, sister."

Could it be them?