Chen Ge's heart pounded as he stood just beyond the rusted gates of Western Jiujiang's Private Academy, the oppressive weight of Zhang Ya's spectral presence still lingering in his mind. Relief washed over him that he hadn't spoken ill of her during his call with Inspector Lee. Forcing an awkward laugh, he stammered, "I, uh, stepped out for some fresh air. The dance studio was feeling a bit… stifling."
Zhang Ya's blood-soaked uniform glistened in the moonlight, crimson rivulets trailing down the fabric as her unseen gaze bored into him. Without a word, she raised a slender, ghostly arm, her pale finger pointing toward a squat building Chen Ge recognized as the teachers' lounge. The gesture was both a command and a plea, her intent unmistakable.
"You want me to go there?" Chen Ge asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Before he could press for clarity, Zhang Ya's form dissolved into the night, leaving only the faint echo of dripping blood. He stood meters from the gate, torn between fear and curiosity. Returning to the school meant facing unknown dangers—perhaps other entities as potent as Zhang Ya—but walking away felt like abandoning the truth she demanded he uncover. Her attitude toward me has softened, he reasoned. That hint must tie to her case from four years ago. But this place… it's crawling with something else, maybe more than one presence. I should wait for the police.
Chen Ge positioned himself outside the gate, his senses heightened, wary of Zhang Peng's fate—whether the man was still alive or had fallen prey to Zhang Ya's wrath. He gripped his phone, its cracked screen a dim beacon in the dark, ready to react at any moment. Fifteen minutes later, twin beams of headlights pierced the forest's gloom, and two police cars screeched to a halt at the gate. Chen Ge leapt into the road, waving his phone's flashlight frantically. "Over here!"
The car doors swung open, and Inspector Lee emerged alongside an unfamiliar officer, their faces etched with urgency. Lee's eyes, ringed with dark circles from days of overtime, scanned Chen Ge. "Uncle Lee, you got here fast," Chen Ge said, surprised. By his estimate, the police should've taken another half-hour.
"We were already en route," Lee explained, his voice gruff. "Got a distress call from a taxi driver claiming he was robbed near here." He gestured to the gate. "Now, what's the situation?"
"Come inside—Zhang Peng's still in there somewhere!" Chen Ge pointed at the school's entrance, his tone almost proprietary, as if ushering guests into his domain.
Lee nodded to a towering officer. "Da Yong, grab the clippers." The muscular man, nearly 1.9 meters tall, retrieved a heavy tool from the trunk. Lee's gaze hardened as he addressed the team. "Once we're inside, stay sharp. The suspect's cunning. Move in pairs, no exceptions." He turned to Chen Ge. "Where'd you last see him?"
"In the dance studio, but he bolted," Chen Ge replied, then lowered his voice, pointing to the teachers' lounge. "Inspector, I need you to come with me. There's something else."
Lee's brow furrowed, but he issued orders. "Da Yong, guard the road. Everyone else, stick to the plan." He followed Chen Ge toward the lounge, his flashlight cutting through the dark. The building, though only three stories, boasted a more refined interior than the other structures, its faded elegance a ghostly reminder of better days.
Lee's eyes narrowed, his fatigue giving way to the keen focus of a seasoned officer. "Why here? Did Zhang Peng flee this way?"
"No, this isn't about him," Chen Ge said, scanning the corridor to pinpoint the room Zhang Ya had indicated. "It's tied to Zhang Ya's death four years ago."
Lee sighed, exasperated. "I told you we'd look into that after catching Zhang Peng. Mixing cases muddies the water. Our priority's the suspect."
"We're here," Chen Ge cut in, stopping at a door labeled Gym Equipment Storeroom. He ignored Lee's protest, his resolve steeled by Zhang Ya's spectral directive. Waiting for the police had been about minimizing risk, and now, with Lee at his side, he felt emboldened. He tore off the faded seals and kicked the door open, the wood splintering under the force.
The room was cluttered with deflated balls, tennis rackets, and ping-pong paddles hanging haphazardly on the walls. Lee swept his flashlight across the space, his skepticism plain. "You dragged me here for this? What's it prove?"
Chen Ge's eyes darted around, drawn to a single, narrow bedframe tucked against the innermost cupboard, its design eerily similar to one in the dance studio. "Why a bed in a storeroom?" he muttered, his unease growing. He strode to the bed and pried up the wooden slats, his breath catching as a chilling sight emerged.
Beneath the dusty frame lay ten female ballet shoes, their sizes varied, scattered like forgotten relics. Among them, one pair stood out—stained black with dried blood, their once-vibrant fabric now a grim testament to violence. Chen Ge's stomach churned, the discovery a tangible link to Zhang Ya's tragedy, her red dancing shoes and the horrors of her past now closer than ever.
The sight of the ballet shoes—ten pairs, one blackened with dried blood—hidden beneath the bedframe sent a chill through Chen Ge, not of rage but of profound shock. The implications were staggering, suggesting that the horrors at Western Jiujiang's Private Academy ran deeper and darker than he'd ever imagined. His voice trembled as he turned to Inspector Lee. "So many? This means there's more than one victim, doesn't it?"
Lee's flashlight lingered on the shoes, his frown deepening. "Nothing about ballet shoes was mentioned in Zhang Ya's case file—or any of the others." He crouched, examining the neatly arranged pairs. "They're dusty, even under the bed, so they've been here for years. But look—someone placed them carefully, almost reverently. This… this could be the killer's obsession, a twisted fetish."
Chen Ge's stomach churned, the image of a predator curating their trophies fueling his resolve. "Uncle Lee, you're the law here. You have to bring justice to these women—all of them." He let the bed's wooden slats fall, the thud echoing in the cluttered storeroom. "The killer had access to both the dance studio and this equipment room. That points to someone with keys—a manager, a guard, maybe even a teacher."
Lee nodded, his jaw tight. "If your theory holds, it narrows our suspect pool significantly." The blood-stained shoes seemed to shift his perspective, a flicker of determination replacing his earlier skepticism. "I promise you, Xiao Chen, I won't let this go. Whoever did this will face the full weight of the law, no matter who they are."
As Lee spoke, Chen Ge's black phone vibrated in his pocket, a subtle buzz that jolted him. He slipped it out, glancing at the screen. A new message glowed in the dim light:
"Located Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes before dawn. Completed Zhang Ya's Bloody Heart Mission. Mission Completion Rate: 50%. Zhang Ya's affection toward you has increased! You may write one request on Zhang Ya's personal profile page (Note: It must not violate Zhang Ya's will)."
Chen Ge edged toward the storeroom door, his pulse steadying despite the night's terrors. It was grueling, but at least I made progress. He opened Zhang Ya's profile, the screen bathing his face in a crimson glow. The condition was clear: his request couldn't oppose her will. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he considered his options. Something safe, something that keeps me alive.
After a moment, he typed: "I hope Zhang Ya will always listen to me."
The screen flashed red, a message appearing: "This request violates Zhang Ya's will. Please revise."
Chen Ge frowned, trying again: "I hope Zhang Ya will protect me from harm."
Another rejection: "This request violates Zhang Ya's will. Please revise."
His frustration mounted, tinged with unease. She's a Red Specter—her will is unpredictable. He took a deep breath and typed a final, desperate plea: "I hope Zhang Ya will never harm me or intend to kill me."
The screen pulsed red once more: "This request violates Zhang Ya's will. Please revise."
Chen Ge's heart sank, a cold realization settling in. Even this is against her will? The implications were chilling—Zhang Ya's affection, her love, was inseparable from her deadly nature. He pocketed the phone, his mind racing as he glanced back at the blood-stained shoes, then at Inspector Lee, who was already photographing the scene. The storeroom felt smaller, the air heavier, as if Zhang Ya's presence lingered, watching, waiting. Chen Ge knew his mission wasn't over; the truth about her death, and the killer still at large, bound him to her in ways he couldn't yet fathom.
Frustration gnawed at him, until a reckless thought surfaced, born of desperation and the surreal intimacy of their encounters. He muttered, half-joking, "Fine, if you won't agree to those, how about you just… pleasure me instead?"
To his shock, the screen didn't flash red. Instead, a message appeared: "She acknowledges your desire. Please confirm the first agreement." Chen Ge's thumb hovered over the "OK" button, his mind reeling. Is this a trap? But the night's events—the mirror's visions, Zhang Ya's softened demeanor—pushed him forward. He clicked confirm.
A chill swept the storeroom, and Zhang Ya materialized before him, her blood-red dress clinging to her lithe frame, her cheeks faintly flushed—an eerie contrast to her ghostly pallor. Inspector Lee, engrossed in photographing the shoes, seemed oblivious, as if Zhang Ya existed in a plane only Chen Ge could perceive. With a graceful, deliberate motion, she knelt before him, her cold fingers brushing his waistband, tugging his pants down. Chen Ge's breath hitched, his arousal surging as her spectral beauty gazed up at him, her eyes holding a mix of mischief and hunger.
His cock, already hardening, stood rigid before her. Zhang Ya's nose grazed the tip, her tongue flicking out to taste the lingering traces of their earlier encounters—semen and spectral essence from the chair-bound women. She didn't flinch, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she lapped at the glans, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the swollen, purple-red head. Her mouth enveloped it, sucking with a fervor that sent sparks through Chen Ge's nerves, her tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge.
"Zhang Ya," he gasped, half-disbelieving, "you're a virgin ghost, aren't you? Where'd you learn this?"
She paused, the glans still in her mouth, her eyes glinting with amusement. Her voice, though muffled, carried a teasing lilt: "Never eaten pork but seen pigs run? I'm a modern ghost—picked it up online." The absurdity of a Red Specter browsing the internet for oral techniques nearly broke his composure, but her skill silenced any laughter.
Her cold hands cupped his testicles, caressing them with a tenderness that belied her spectral nature. Her fingers traced the veins along his shaft, her touch feather-light yet electric, occasionally scraping the sensitive skin at the base with her smooth, nail-less fingertips. One hand slid to his shaft, stroking in slow, deliberate motions, while her lips returned to his glans, her tongue lapping at it like a melting treat. She alternated between long, languid licks along the length and teasing nibbles at his scrotum, her teeth grazing just enough to make him shudder. Taking a testicle into her mouth, she sucked gently, her tongue swirling over the skin, the sensation driving Chen Ge to tilt his head back, his hands threading through her silken hair.
Zhang Ya's eyes met his, her tongue tracing the midline of his cock before she engulfed it fully, her throat constricting around him as she bobbed her head. Her hands roamed, nails lightly scratching his thighs and scrotum, amplifying every sensation. Chen Ge's fingers wandered, caressing her flushed cheeks, pinching her earlobes, then sliding down her back, tracing circles that made her shiver. His hands ventured to her chest, cupping her full, spectral breasts through the red dress, his fingers teasing her hardened nipples. She moaned around his cock, the vibration pushing him closer to the edge, her head moving faster, her strokes more urgent.
The pleasure built to a crescendo, and Chen Ge's control slipped. He gripped her head, thrusting forward, his cock plunging deep into her throat. As his climax hit, he groaned, his semen flooding her mouth. Zhang Ya swallowed eagerly, though some spilled, trickling down her chin, her expression a mix of lewd satisfaction and spectral allure. Chen Ge stared down, panting, her beauty and skill making her seem less like a vengeful ghost and more like a seasoned seductress.
The storeroom's air grew heavy, Zhang Ya's form fading as she rose, her lips curling into a knowing smile before she vanished. Inspector Lee, still documenting the shoes, remained unaware, the scene unfolding in a spectral veil. Chen Ge adjusted his clothing, his mind a whirlwind of guilt, arousal, and fear. Zhang Ya's "affection" was a double-edged sword, her desires entwining with his mission to uncover her killer—a path that grew more perilous with every step.