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Chapter Two
“Hey… Lao Wang… I… I think I… hit someone…” Li Guofu’s voice trembled violently, as if each word was being squeezed out of his dry throat, carrying a chilling rasp.
“You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? It’s the middle of the night, stop talking nonsense!” On the other end, Lao Wang's voice was thick with sleep and a hint of impatience, clearly not taking Li Guofu seriously.
“No… it’s not… really… I… I hit someone…” Li Guofu stammered, fear gripping his throat like a cold hand, nearly choking him. He clutched the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The rain continued to pour outside, the raindrops beating against the car window like a death knell, striking at his nerves one after another.
“Where? How bad is it? Is it serious?” Lao Wang's voice finally sharpened, now tinged with concern.
“On… on Mountain Road… I… I don’t know… I… I ran away…” Li Guofu’s voice dwindled to a whisper, nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain, like a frightened beast wanting to hide in a dark corner and never come out.
“You’re insane! How can you run after hitting someone? Get back there! What if…” Before Lao Wang could finish his sentence, Li Guofu abruptly hung up. He couldn’t bear to hear Lao Wang’s voice; he feared the reprimand even more than the truth.
Li Guofu slumped in the driver’s seat, utterly drained. Cold sweat soaked through his clothes, clinging to him uncomfortably and making him feel nauseous. The car was filled with a heavy metallic scent mixed with the dampness of rain, making him want to retch.
He couldn’t go back; he was terrified of seeing that bruised face, those hollow eyes, that horrifying pool of blood. He closed his eyes as terrifying images of the old man hanging from the cypress tree flooded his mind, each one searing into his consciousness like a branding iron that he could not erase.
For the next three days, Li Guofu wandered aimlessly on the outskirts of the city like a living corpse. He dared not sleep; whenever he closed his eyes, he would see that face hanging from the cypress tree, those hollow eyes seemingly accusing him of his crime. He couldn’t drive; as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat, he would hear that dull “thud,” as if death were whispering in his ear. He avoided phone calls, fearing they might be from the police and dreading the cold judgment that awaited him. He lived in fear, each day stretching into an eternity.
Three days later, he had no choice but to return to Mountain Road. The delivery had been delayed for three days; if he didn’t get it there soon, he would truly face ruin. He forced himself not to think about that night’s events, repeating over and over that it was just a nightmare—a terrible, real nightmare.
But as he passed that curve again, the familiar dull “thud” echoed in his ears once more—clear and piercing—as if summoned from hell itself.
"No... it can't be..." he murmured to himself, his voice trembling violently like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to extinguish at any moment.
His hands shook as he slowly pulled the car over to the side of the road, his heart pounding like a drum.
He didn't dare to get out; he was afraid of seeing something horrifying, afraid of reliving a nightmare.
Sitting in the driver's seat, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but fear surged over him like a tidal wave, drowning him.
He felt as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest, his breathing rapid and shallow, as if he would suffocate at any moment.
Forcing himself to turn his head, he looked toward the truck bed.
There lay a corpse.
The body was wrapped in a burial garment, its face obscured, but on the garment were four bright red characters: July 15th.
Li Guofu's pupils dilated sharply, fear coiling around his heart like a cold snake, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.
Trembling, he took out his phone and snapped a picture of the characters on the garment, his hands shaking so much that he could barely hold onto the device.
At that moment, he noticed a trail of blood on the ground, slowly flowing back toward the edge of the cliff in the morning light, like a red serpent slithering away.
"Ghost... it's a ghost—" He suddenly threw away his phone and let out a terrified scream, scrambling back into the car. He started the engine and pressed down on the gas pedal, fleeing from that terrifying place.
He drove frantically, constantly glancing back, terrified that the corpse would come after him, afraid that the bloodstain would creep up to his feet. His mind was a blank slate, filled only with fear and despair.
"What... what should I do..." he muttered to himself, his voice trembling like leaves in the wind.
"Beep beep beep—" The shrill sound of a siren echoed behind him, like the grim reaper's relentless summons.
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