Depressed Chapter 5

Wang Xiaoyan and Feng Xuan were exhausted.

They had been battered by physical exhaustion and mental strain along the way, so much so that after locking the door behind them, they simply collapsed onto the floor.

The two sat in silence.

Who could have imagined that they had only come for a doctor’s visit, only to fall into such an unknowable predicament?

“Feng Xuan, I’m scared,” Wang Xiaoyan whispered.

Feng Xuan silently embraced her.

The hug was warm, and Wang Xiaoyan trembled slightly.

Then she drove the fruit knife into Feng Xuan’s chest.

Feng Xuan couldn’t see Wang Xiaoyan’s face—there was not a trace of fear there, only a mask of ferocity and venom.

Feng Xuan fell.

For a split second, her gaze met Shen Lian’s from behind the chair.

Shen Lian felt a sense of déjà vu.

He seemed to have seen such eyes somewhere before.

He recalled the corpse at the inpatient entrance—the one whose smile had reminded him of Plants vs. Zombies.

The pupils weren’t dilated, but contracted. At the time, he’d idly analyzed whether the person had morphine or heroin poisoning, or maybe organophosphate pesticide poisoning.

This girl, Feng Xuan, had died long before the other girl stabbed her!

Wang Xiaoyan grabbed Feng Xuan’s hair, yanking it hard.

Her hair really was beautiful—even if disheveled from running, it was still black and glossy, usually as fine as the best satin.

The fruit knife slid toward Feng Xuan’s eyes.

Her eyes were beautiful too, the corners tilting up, shimmering with light, clear but not vulgar.

The fruit knife plunged in, twisting and stirring with force.

Wang Xiaoyan muttered, “I’ll make you beautiful, I’ll make you beautiful…”

As if that weren’t enough, she stood, planting one foot on Feng Xuan’s face.

Her round-toed, heeled school shoes stomped down again and again.

Shen Lian had never imagined an ordinary high school girl could have such strength.

Wang Xiaoyan laughed.

“Now you’re not prettier than me.”

Then her expression suddenly darkened.

Because she thought of Feng Xuan’s smile—gentle as spring hills. Her smile was never as beautiful as Feng Xuan’s.

Her foot came down again.

“I’ll make you beautiful, I’ll make you beautiful!”

“I’ll make you beautiful…”

Her voice gradually faded, then, as if suddenly transformed, she clapped a hand over her mouth, staring in shock at Feng Xuan’s corpse beneath her feet.

“Ah!” Wang Xiaoyan screamed, her voice shrill.

She began to sob uncontrollably, covering her face.

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me… I was just a little jealous of you, how could I possibly kill someone…”

Shen Lian understood something.

Then he saw the crying girl abruptly pull her hand from her face, wipe her cheeks with her sleeve, and slowly lower her head—meeting his gaze!

Looking closely, her pupils were contracted.

Wang Xiaoyan looked at Shen Lian and smiled—a beautiful smile.

Gentle as spring hills.

Then she turned, dressed in her red-and-white school uniform, wearing round-toed shoes with bows, and slowly walked out of the room, leaving behind a corpse so mangled it looked like a crushed bottle of Nongfu Spring.

Oh, and a trail of bloody footprints.

Only after he was sure she had gone did Shen Lian remember to close the MRI room door.

Now he could piece together many things.

For example, he understood why he’d wanted to throw away the chainsaw and offer his neck.

His desires had been magnified—everyone’s desires had been magnified.

There had been signs all along.

From his urge to perform the moment he entered the outpatient lobby, to his constant need to make sarcastic remarks.

Most of all, his deepest suicidal urge.

The flashy-haired youth in the lobby had been ogling the businesswoman—his lust amplified.

And the girl who had just killed her companion—her inner jealousy and violence had been magnified.

Perhaps they had been close, or had once been close—maybe just ordinary friends, going to and from school together, sharing bathroom breaks, wishing each other well.

But what killed them—was it some unknowable horror, or the flaws inherent in human nature?

As for the “ghost’s” movements, he could now roughly deduce a few things.

The first time he saw the ghost was at the entrance to the inpatient wing. Then, the ghost killed someone and entered the outpatient lobby in that person’s guise. When “there’s a ghost” was announced, the two high school girls instinctively let go of each other’s hands—at that moment, this girl called Feng Xuan was still normal.

Later, when everyone was scattered randomly, the ghost killed Feng Xuan and took her place. Her companion, out of jealousy, “killed” her again, and was then replaced by “her.”

So, of the thirteen of them, at least three were now dead.

Elsewhere, Zheng Qing sat in the monitoring room, watching as the businesswoman in the first-floor corridor first used pepper spray on the flashy-haired youth, then a stun baton, and finally brought an iron pipe down squarely on his head.

“At least three people are dead now…” Zheng Qing murmured.