Relics

Building 4.

This time, Fang Xian did not take the stairs.

Instead, he pressed the elevator button for the tenth floor.

Inside the elevator, the light was deathly pale.

It made Fang Xian's already sickly pale face look even more bloodless.

"The Urban Legend Compendium classifies Following and Going Home as urban legends of the same level."

As the elevator's floor display changed, Fang Xian's gaze grew more intent.

"Setting aside any hidden sub-rankings, the two legends shouldn't differ much in difficulty."

An unpleasant thought suddenly struck him.

It wouldn't be another huge bald guy, would it?

No.

Don't think about that yet.

I don't even know where the urban legend is.

Fang Xian's expression remained calm.

Ding.

In the darkness, the elevator's chime sounded especially loud.

The tenth floor.

He had arrived.

Through the gap in the doors, he could still smell the acrid paper money Wang He had burned earlier.

The faint traces of ash on the floor became more noticeable when the sound-activated light came on.

Ahead of him stood the door to the tenth-floor apartment.

Fang Xian walked slowly up to it.

He knocked.

"Hello, I'm... Fang Xian."

A brilliant smile spread across Fang Xian's face.

It was as bright as a star in the night sky.

Creak.

The door opened a crack.

An elderly woman of about sixty stood behind it.

Her eyes were bloodshot. She seemed to stay up late often, and she looked unwell.

"Who exactly are you?"

The elderly woman questioned him through the crack, her voice low.

Fang Xian's voice was clear and gentle, the sort that easily won people over. "Ma'am, didn't you hear my conversation with Auntie Wang from outside your door just now?"

The elderly woman was silent for a moment. "No new tenants have moved in here recently. We've never seen you before, either."

Fang Xian nodded. "None of that matters."

"What matters is that I'm here to find the truth."

Fang Xian took his student ID out of his pocket. "I'm Fang Xian, a first-year journalism student at Jiangzhou Normal University."

"A journalist's duty is to uncover the truth, even when the case has been buried for years."

In the darkness, the elderly woman could only make out the words Jiangzhou Normal University.

At that, she trembled slightly. "You..."

Fang Xian hurriedly put his student ID away. If she took a closer look, he would have a hard time explaining why his major did not match. "I was gathering evidence downstairs just now. I wanted to retrace the route Li Wan took when she disappeared ten years ago. You must have seen me from up here."

The elderly woman coughed. "I... thought you were another private detective the Li Family had hired. It wouldn't be the first time Wang He had done that."

Fang Xian's smile widened. "That's why I'm here."

"As a journalist, I have to find the truth and clear the name of anyone wrongly accused."

Looking at Fang Xian, the elderly woman felt as though she were seeing her husband when he was young.

She was silent for a moment.

"Please, come in."

The apartment was simply furnished.

The scent of incense hung in the air.

Although the elderly woman had invited Fang Xian straight in, he dutifully put on shoe covers.

As he passed the dining table, he immediately spotted a memorial portrait beside it.

Old Zhou.

He looked like an honest, kindly old man.

Fang Xian was studying at a teachers' college himself, so in that sense, Old Zhou was his senior.

A profession did not define a person, but Fang Xian hoped Old Zhou had not abducted Li Wan.

With that in mind, Fang Xian stepped forward and bowed gently to the portrait, then set his backpack on the floor to one side.

Every gesture was considerate.

The elderly woman's eyes shifted, touched by what she saw, and she went into the kitchen.

A little later, she brought Fang Xian some sliced fruit.

"There's only a little fruit left. It was an offering to Old Zhou earlier. If you don't mind, please have some."

She spoke softly, her voice a little hoarse.

Fang Xian smiled. "I don't mind. It would be a shame to waste it."

He ate a piece and nodded, then got straight to the point.

"Ma'am, do you know anything about Li Wan?"

"Or have any clues about her disappearance ten years ago?"

"If you do, could you tell me?"

Fang Xian unlocked his phone with his left hand and asked in a low voice.

The elderly woman said nothing.

Fang Xian ate another piece of the offering apple and waited a moment.

So she really does know something?

That makes things easier.

Fang Xian put down the toothpick and sat up straight. "Ma'am. Old Zhou is gone."

"I believe you're just like me: an honest, optimistic, brave, and kind young person."

"I know you wouldn't want Old Zhou's name dragged through the mud without good reason."

Fang Xian knew that, given Wang He's temperament, Old Zhou and his wife could not have had an easy time over the years.

At last, the elderly woman sighed deeply. "Fang Xian, there are things I only learned when I was sorting through Old Zhou's belongings."

She rose and went into another room.

Fang Xian sat on the sofa in the dim light, playing a staring game with Old Zhou's portrait. Whoever looked away first lost. About two minutes later, Fang Xian admitted defeat.

The elderly woman returned with a diary and handed it to Fang Xian.

Fang Xian opened it with due solemnity. He had to admit—

the retired teacher had lovely handwriting.

Ten years earlier.

Li Wan had been well known around the North Bank Residential Community.

In short, she was the child every parent wished was theirs.

Guided by her accomplished father from an early age, she had begun studying middle-school material at just seven years old.

She displayed astonishing talent in piano, dance, and painting alike.

Everyone believed Li Wan had a brilliant future and regarded her as a "child prodigy."

Much like the Three-Eyed Child Prodigy before the millennium.

Back then, the family of three was the envy of everyone around them.

But little Li Wan seemed to bear enormous pressure to keep up that image of perfection.

The home of Old Zhou, a retired teacher, was one of the few places where Li Wan could catch her breath.

During her half-hour break each week, Li Wan would visit Old Zhou.

It was her only comfort.

"What's this...?"

Fang Xian had found a photograph.

The photograph had yellowed with age.

A little girl in white had an aluminum pot on her head.

Her face was impossible to make out.

Is this Li Wan?

Fang Xian did not ask. He considered it silently.

Though he could not see her face, her build was exactly the same.

The girl was Li Wan.

"Put an aluminum pot on your head, receive signals from the universe—and become a genius."

Fang Xian frowned.

Before the millennium, there had been a rumor that wearing a pot let people receive magnetic fields from the cosmos. If they focused hard enough, they could receive messages from heaven.

Now, fifteen years after the millennium, such Qigong claims had long since been debunked.

Yet some stubborn fools still insisted on doing this idiotic stuff.

[Urban legend alert.]

[Most who know what happened at the turn of the millennium avoid speaking of it.]

[Perhaps taking the secret to the grave would be wise.]