Just as my neck stiffened and I was about to move, a sneaky sound came from the ceiling above. "Thump, thump, thump"—like a child scampering across the ceiling.
The sound was unmistakable, definitely not a hallucination. Tong Suo's face turned ashen, his nerves on the verge of collapse, looking like he might faint any second. I was drenched in sweat. The scene couldn't help but remind me of the horror movie *The Grudge*, with that ghostly, pale boy darting through the building.
"The rooftop… someone's up there?" My voice came out hoarse.
Li Yang gave a soft cough. "It's not the rooftop…"
I froze. "Not the rooftop? How's that possible? This is the top floor."
Li Yang gave a wry smile. "Old Liu, have you forgotten? We've speculated before that between the 21st floor and the rooftop, there's a massive space equivalent to three floors."
I swallowed hard. "You mean the space above the ceiling is *that* space?"
"Exactly. And not just the ceiling…" He pointed to the wall behind the bathtub. "I suspect it's behind there too."
In my mind, I pieced together a rough 3D image. If he was right, Lin Xia's apartment was nestled right within the mysterious space enveloping it.
Tong Suo caught Li Yang's eager expression and jumped. "You're not thinking of drilling a hole up there right now, are you?"
Li Yang pointed to a ventilation duct in the corner of the ceiling. "No need for that. We can crawl through there to take a look."
Tong Suo lost it, grabbing Li Yang by the collar. "Can you have some damn consideration for others? If you want to die, no one's stopping you, but don't drag us down with you!"
Li Yang glanced at us. "Alright, fine. Let's go back and sleep. I'll come back tonight on my own."
A bad feeling hit me, and I blurted out, "Old Li, don't end up like Li Damin, disappearing without a trace."
He hesitated, then forced a smile. "If I'm gone, you guys are still here, right?"
The three of us left Lin Xia's apartment and stepped into the corridor. Looking out at the moonlight, I felt like I was in a dream. Back at our place, Tong Suo and Li Yang went to their rooms to sleep. I stumbled into mine, collapsed onto the bed, and felt an indescribable sense of comfort.
There's nothing like home.
I set the alarm, didn't even bother changing, and passed out.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I was deep in my dreams, the alarm blared. Groaning, I rolled over. I still had to go to work in the morning.
In a daze, I somehow managed to wash up and get dressed. By the time I was somewhat awake, I was already sitting at my office desk.
Staring at the computer screen, my mouth agape, my mind was a numb blank, my ability to think practically nonexistent.
The manager assigned me some tasks. I flipped through the documents, dozing off, drool pooling on the desk.
"Liu Yang!" someone bellowed.
"Yeah! Here!" I shot up. Everyone around me burst out laughing. The manager stormed over, face dark. "Get to work! Where were you partying last night to end up this exhausted?"
My face flushed. "I was up late studying materials, got too into it, and lost track of time."
"The big boss is coming for an inspection today. Don't embarrass me," he said, glaring.
I sat back down, rubbing my temples. Big boss, small boss—who cares?
I barely made it to noon, grabbed some food, then found a corner in the café downstairs, draped my coat over myself, and fell into a deep sleep.
Right in the middle of my nap, my phone rang. Who the hell is this? I grumbled, checking the screen. Unknown number. I didn't want to answer, but it kept ringing, driving me nuts.
When I picked up, Tong Suo's sleazy chuckle came through. "Old Liu, things are getting more interesting. Guess what was stuck behind that painting?"
"How the hell would I know?" I snapped, cranky from lack of sleep.
"We also opened the iron box. Wanna know what's inside?"
"What?"
"Man, you'd never guess, not even if you died trying. I'll give you three keywords: creepy, mysterious, fascinating!"
"What is it?!" I roared into the phone.
"Heh, beg me… Nah, even if you beg, I won't tell you. You'll see tonight when you get back. Oh, and I took the painting to a buddy's antique shop for appraisal. That painting's weird too, hiding secrets. I don't even know where to start. Just wait till you're back."
I was burning with curiosity and about to press him when he hung up.
Restless, I wanted to rush back right then, but thinking of the manager's sour face, I held off. I was still on probation—better not piss off the boss and get myself fired.
I downed some coffee, feeling a bit more awake, and dragged myself through the afternoon at work.
Finally, when the workday ended, I bolted out of the office, hopped in a cab, and raced back to the Garden District.
Bursting into Li Yang's room, I saw him sprawled on the bed, studying the mysterious painting with a magnifying glass. The entire scroll was unfurled across the bed.
Tong Suo was lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, engrossed in some book.
They both looked up at me. Li Yang waved me over. "Old Liu, come check out the painting. See what we found."
"Oh? What'd you find?" I tossed my briefcase aside and jogged over.
Li Yang pointed to the mountain temple in the painting. "Ever since you mentioned spotting Li Damin's trace there, I couldn't sleep soundly. I got up early after a short nap and studied it with the magnifying glass but found nothing. Around noon, Tong Suo took it to an antique shop for appraisal. Tong Suo, you tell him."
Tong Suo had a friend who ran an antique shop near the city center. The guy had been in the business for seven or eight years—not a top expert, but professional enough.
When Tong Suo brought the painting in, his friend's first reaction was to scold him for not having it mounted. Mounting is crucial for protecting artwork, but this painting's pigments were completely exposed, so much so that touching it left granules on your fingers.
Tong Suo quickly explained it wasn't a famous painting, just a high-quality replica, and asked him to identify whose work it mimicked.
The friend studied it for a while and said hesitantly, "The original style is definitely from the Song Dynasty, no doubt. The imitation isn't that old either—the pigments haven't fully set. As for whose painting it's copying, I can't say for sure. Stylistically, it's a bit like Li Cheng's."
Li Cheng was a renowned Song Dynasty landscape painter. Born into nobility but unfulfilled, he indulged in poetry and wine, wandering the mountains. A bit of a cynic, he specialized in "cold forests"—bleak, barren landscapes with withered trees and scattered yellow leaves. His works exuded a sense of chill and melancholy, utterly desolate.
The friend added, "Based on my experience, the style resembles his."
Tong Suo felt the trip was a bust and casually asked, "Anything else you can tell about the painting?"
The friend meticulously examined it from end to end. "The craftsmanship is exquisite, with a grand atmosphere. If it were an original, it'd be worth a fortune. But as a modern high-quality replica, it's not worth much. Hmm… wait a second."
He rubbed the painting, picking up some granules, and sniffed them. "Interesting…"
"What?" Tong Suo pressed.
"The pigment is cinnabar."
"Cinnabar? What's special about that? What pigments are usually used in landscape paintings?" Tong Suo asked.
"Cinnabar, also called vermilion, is typically used by Taoists for drawing talismans. It's said to gather spiritual energy and ward off evil spirits. It's not unheard of as a pigment—silk artifacts from the Mawangdui Tomb used cinnabar for patterns—but it's extremely rare in landscape paintings. At least, I've never heard of it. As for traditional pigments, check *Dream of the Red Chamber*. Xue Baochai explains it well: ochre, gamboge, rouge, and so on. You wouldn't get it—you're always out clubbing, not reading classics."
"Cut the crap," Tong Suo said, staring at the painting, a chill running through him. He suddenly recalled the eerie giant talisman on the white wall in Lin Xia's bathroom.
"Is it okay if the painting gets damaged?" the friend asked.
"Do what you need," Tong Suo said offhandedly.
The friend noted, "The pigments are odd. Look, there's a layer of cinnabar on top, but several other layers beneath." He took a delicate scalpel and carefully scraped a small area, revealing a tiny pile of fine powder.
Tong Suo was stunned. At a small corner of the painting, the friend's scraping revealed multiple layers of pigment. Even an antique novice like him could tell this wasn't a painting technique—it was deliberate.
The friend scratched his head, muttering, "Could it be a painting within a painting?"
Tong Suo blinked. "What's that mean?"
"It's possible the top landscape was painted later to cover up the painting beneath."
The friend wiped the lower layer of pigment and sniffed it, his brow furrowing. "Take a whiff."
Tong Suo hesitated, then sniffed. A foul, fishy smell hit him.
At this point, Tong Suo said to me, "One sniff, and I knew it was the smell of blood."
My jaw dropped. "You're saying if there's a hidden painting underneath, it was painted with human blood?"
Tong Suo pointed at Li Yang. "Too bad he wouldn't let me peel off the top landscape to find out for sure."
Back at the antique shop, Tong Suo's curiosity had spiked. He asked, "Can you safely remove the top painting?"
"It's technically possible," the friend said with a nod.
Tong Suo bit his lip and called Li Yang, explaining the situation. Li Yang immediately objected.
Li Yang's reason was utterly bizarre: "Don't forget, Old Liu saw Li Damin in the mountain temple of the landscape painting. If you strip away the top layer, what if you destroy the space where Li Damin exists? What if he vanishes because of it?"