Late at night, when traffic thins out and the city quiets down, the wide roads begin to reveal their own truths—scars that remain hidden under the chaos of daylight.
I may be a third-rate detective, but I take every case seriously, out of sheer respect for the profession.
And if I wanted to find out whether the girl had lied, the simplest method was to visit Wudeng Road myself at the right time, to track down this so-called Netherworld Live from the flyer.
I searched online. Wudeng Road did exist in Jiangcheng.
To the old locals, however, it went by another, more chilling name: "Screw-Capped Hill."
The name was actually a grim homonym: in the dialect, it meant "piled corpses reaching the rooftop." During the Second Sino-Japanese War, this was the site of the city's largest massacre. Corpses were stacked so high they reached the eaves of the buildings.
Residents said streetlights couldn't be installed here. Every time someone tried, the lights would die the next day—sometimes sabotaged, sometimes for no apparent reason.
Bulbs removed intact would be found with the tungsten filaments mysteriously snapped. Eventually, no one dared install new ones. Even flashlights would flicker and die inside the alleyways. Motorbikes and scooters would fail—any electric device would become useless at night.
People in the area simply stayed inside after dark.
If you encountered someone in "Screw-Capped Hill" at night, they said, there was no guarantee it was actually a person.
"A company opening in a place like this… they sure lived up to the name Netherworld Live."
I'm a strict logician, a staunch atheist. And the more research I did, the more convinced I became that this was an elaborate but amateurish prank.
"Real or not, I'll find out tonight."
I changed into street clothes, stuffed the flyer and a handheld stun device into my pocket, and rode off.
Wudeng Road was in the old part of the city. By the time I arrived, it was already dark, and a cold drizzle had begun to fall.
"Great."
Electric stun devices are risky in the rain. If I used it, I might end up shocking myself.
I wandered the maze of alleys, surrounded by decaying buildings. The locals weren't friendly. When I asked for directions, the moment I mentioned Wudeng Road, they waved me off and hurried away.
No signs. No clues. I stumbled around like a headless fly until past 10 p.m. and still hadn't found the place.
The drizzle thickened into rain. A damp haze covered everything. I needed shelter, but there were no proper shops in sight.
The only visible storefronts sold paper houses, paper horses, funeral wreaths, and burial garments—clearly businesses for the dead.
With nowhere else to go, I ducked into a burial clothing shop. But just after 11 p.m., the owner turned off all the lights, lit two white candles, handed me a black funeral umbrella, and ushered me out.
"These people are seriously weird."
Standing in the rain under that black umbrella, I looked around. The entire alley was pitch dark.
"Wudeng Road?" A chill ran down my spine.
I wandered for more than twenty minutes and eventually got completely lost. Just as I reached for my phone to call for help, I saw an elderly woman across the street waving at me.
"Why is she out alone in this weather? Where's her family?"
Rain soaked her thin frame. She looked even worse off than me—utterly alone, frail.
She beckoned anxiously. I hurried over and held the umbrella over her head.
"Ma'am, are you—"
Lightning flashed. I looked down—and saw her face.
Pale as death. Wrinkles deep and twisted like folded tofu skin crawled across her expressionless features.
"I lost something," she whispered. "Can you help me find it?"
Her voice trembled like a dying breath—a final wish before passing on.
I forced myself to stay calm.
"What did you lose?"
Her cloudy eyes rolled upward. "My little grandson. I lost him… somewhere in this alley."
She pointed toward the darkness and limped off as if in a trance.
"Grandson? A living child?"
I thought of all the online stories about Wudeng Road. Sweat rose on the back of my neck.
"No. Ghosts, gods, monsters—it's all fear messing with my brain. I'm just experiencing the human instinct to panic in uncertain environments."
When faced with danger, the body generates protective instincts—fear, evasion. That's all this was.
The locals' behavior, the eerie stories, this strange old woman… it all felt staged, as if someone were trying hard to create a horror movie atmosphere.
Maybe it was a reality show stunt. These days, anything goes for clicks. Maybe there were hidden cameras filming my every move right now.
With that thought, my fear faded. I raised the umbrella and followed the old woman deeper into the alley.
After a while, I gave up trying to figure out where I was. She stopped suddenly.
"My sweet boy. Don't run off again."
"Wait—you found him?"
I followed her gaze. My eyes widened.
Lying on the cold, wet steps was a soaked, filthy cloth doll.
She picked it up like it was a newborn, ignoring the mud and water, holding it gently.
"She's insane…"
I had just spent over an hour running around in the rain with a crazy old woman chasing after a doll.
"Oh, little dolly, please don't be mad. I'm sorry I threw you. I didn't mean to. You got dirt all over your new dress, and your face is all muddy. That must hurt… I'll clean you up, I'll make it right. We'll never be apart again."
She cradled the doll and sang a nursery rhyme as she disappeared into the rain.
I could only chuckle, despite myself. And feel… a little sorry for her.
Over seventy years old, and the only company she had was a torn ragdoll.
I caught up to her and shoved the black umbrella into her hand.
"Take this. It's raining hard. Go home safe."
She froze for a second, then took the umbrella.
"Take care, ma'am."
I crouched in the doorway beside the steps, using the overhang for shelter. The building was three stories tall, with an old awning over the entrance.
"All this for seventy yuan."
I sighed. No progress. No leads. I squatted down and reached for a cigarette. But just as the lighter sparked, I noticed the address plaque on the wall:
"44 Wudeng Road."
The flame died instantly. I pulled out the flyer, holding it close to double-check.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Out of all places, this was the address.
"Things are getting interesting."
I reached for my stun device and was about to enter the building when something tugged at my coat.
"Who's there?"
I turned and activated the stun gun. Blue arcs lit up the night.
"Ma'am?"
It was the old woman again, cradling her doll. I hadn't even heard her approach—me, someone who'd gotten an A in tactical response back at police academy.
"It's dark. You shouldn't be wandering around," she murmured, shielding the doll from view.
A white handkerchief slid from her sleeve.
She sang softly:
"Little mouse climbs the lampstand,
Steals some oil, and can't get down.
Meow, meow, meow, here comes the cat—
And down the mouse goes, tumbling flat."
She rocked the doll and vanished into the night.
I picked up the handkerchief. It was stark white—like the kind used in hangings. Holding it up, I noticed words embroidered in a traditional poetic style:
Wu wei qiong shen nan pao hua,
Nei shi you lai zai di xiang.
You zi shou en xu you di,
Gui jian wu lu xin mang mang.
I read it twice. Cold sweat broke out across my back.
A hidden acrostic—reading the first character of each line revealed the message:
There is a ghost in the house.
"Was she really insane?"
Thinking back on everything she said and did… the message was subtle but coherent.
"Do ghosts really exist?"
I stared into the pitch-black stairwell and hesitated. But in the end, I stepped forward.
Because for a detective, it's never just about the truth.
It's about the thrill of the unknown.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I placed a hand on the damp, mottled wall and made my way down toward the basement.
44 Wudeng Road. Basement Level 4. Room 444.