The Landlord

Exhaustion, numbness, and frailty were Chen Ge's first impressions of Wang Qi.

They passed each other, and Chen Ge returned the Missing Person Notice he'd picked up from the floor. The man whispered a thank-you.

It was the first time he'd spoken—his voice hoarse, barely audible.

"You're welcome. It's nothing."

Chen Ge offered a smile and followed the Lame Man to the second floor.

Compared to the first floor, the second was damper and darker, with cobwebs clustered in the corners and walls scarred and mottled, as if gouged by a blade.

The Lame Man led Chen Ge all the way to the end of the corridor before stopping. He opened the door at the Deepest End of Second Floor Corridor and pulled out a long ring of keys: "Fifty a night. Pick any room on the second floor."

"Fifty? Isn't that a bit steep?"

"For miles around, I'm the only Apartment Building around here. Fifty's already cheap." As the Lame Man spoke, his eyes kept drifting backward, as if watching something.

"Alright, but why only the second floor? Are the first and third floors unlivable?"

"Why so many questions? If they can't be lived in, they can't be lived in!" The Lame Man took fifty bucks from Chen Ge and shoved a random key into his hand: "Room number's on the key tag. Find it yourself."

With that, he ducked into the room. Just as the door was closing, Chen Ge heard an old man's muffled, gurgling sound from inside—like he was choking on his food.

A faint unease crept over Chen Ge. He reached out and pressed the door lock: "Hold on."

"What now?" The Lame Man's tone was hostile, irritation plain.

Chen Ge peered through the crack. The rental was small. Besides the Lame Man standing at the door, there was an Old Man sitting in a wheelchair with his back to the entrance. That sound had come from him.

"I'm a bit thirsty. Do you sell water or drinks here?"

"No!"

"Business is about goodwill. Why get so worked up..."

The door slammed shut with a bang. Chen Ge stood alone at the threshold, his suspicion deepening.

"In a normal Apartment Building, the front desk would be at the main entrance. But here, it's hidden at the Deepest End of Second Floor Corridor." He looked at the key in his hand, questions piling up: "Why can't the first and third floors be lived in? And who's that Old Man living with the Landlord?"

The key was tagged with Room 208. As luck would have it, the room was right next to the Lame Man's.

"Forget it. I'll check in first." After two hours of running around, Chen Ge was tired.

He opened the door. A faint musty smell drifted out. The room looked uninhabited for a long time—furniture thick with dust, the sheets damp and unpleasant to the touch.

"Is this bed even sleepable?" Before Chen Ge could set down his backpack, a sharp crack came from the next room, like a bowl shattering.

He closed the door and pressed his ear to the wall. Soon, the Lame Man's cursing rang out. He was so furious that his insults slipped into a local dialect—his accent suggested he wasn't from around here.

The Old Man could only gurgle, unable to speak. The Lame Man ranted for a few minutes before stopping. Then came something odd: the Television in the next room suddenly blared louder.

"What's he doing? Why turn up the TV volume?" Chen Ge listened a few more minutes, but the noise drowned everything out. He gave up: "Forget it. I'd better worry about my own business. Tonight's bound to be sleepless."

He tossed his Backpack onto the dresser, pulled out a Fruit Knife, and hid it in his pocket: "The complaint on the secondhand rental site said there were bloodstains behind the wall paint, and a Foul Stench every late night. They suspected it was a death house. But I searched everything about Ping An Apartment online and found no murder case tied to this building."

If the Black Phone had chosen this place for a trial mission, Ping An Apartment must hide some dark secret. Chen Ge was sure of that.

He stashed the Fruit Knife, pulled out the Tool Hammer, and tapped and checked every corner of the room. Still nothing.

It was just an ordinary guest room—shockingly shabby, but nothing else out of place.

"The Landlord only let me pick from the second floor, which means those rooms should be fine. Otherwise, he wouldn't rent them out. If I want to find anything, I'll have to check the first or third floor." The trial mission started at eleven. He still had over three hours. Chen Ge didn't want to waste time. He put away the Tool Hammer and crept to the door.

Hand on the lock, he pulled the door halfway open—then froze.

Cold sweat beaded on his palm. A chill ran up his spine.

The Lame Man was standing right outside! Who knew how long he'd been there!

The man hadn't expected Chen Ge to open the door either. They both flinched, separated by the half-open door.

"Landlord, what are you doing at my door?" Chen Ge's expression darkened. His suspicion of the man grew.

"Didn't you say you were thirsty? I brought you this." The Lame Man set a thermos in front of Chen Ge's door, his face a little stiff.

"Thanks." Chen Ge didn't call him out. He picked up the thermos and brought it inside. "Anything else?"

"No. Get some rest." The Lame Man glanced into the room, then added, almost to himself: "The corridor has no lights. It's dark at night. Best not to wander around."

He turned and left. Only when he was back in his own room and the door shut did Chen Ge breathe easy.

"This Landlord is ugly, hot-tempered, and not much of a talker. He's a bit crippled, but built solid—could easily shove that middle-aged guy earlier." Chen Ge wasn't a detective. He just started filling in the blanks based on the murder movies he'd seen: "Born lame, bullied as a kid—probably made him deeply insecure. When that kind of thing builds up, it can twist into a need to destroy others and himself. Damn, thinking about it, he's got all the traits of a Murderous Maniac!"

Chen Ge set down the thermos, his mind racing: "If the Landlord really is a Murderous Maniac, then I'm spending the night next door to a killer in a death house?"

The thought made his scalp crawl. That old freak might even stand outside his door all night! Worse, he was the Landlord—he had spare keys to every room!