Interrogation

Driven by the doubts that had long festered in her heart, An Ruxin finally slipped Chen Anran’s diary into her handbag, left the bedroom, and forced herself to bid farewell to Aunt Chen with a façade of calm.

She had no idea how she managed to walk out the door.

Once outside, the apartment across the hall should be the one where Bai Miaoqing had lived with her parents as a child. With Bai Miaoqing’s home before her and Chen Anran’s home behind, An Ruxin stood in the hallway as if trapped in a narrow crevice, unable to find an exit.

Her mind was crowded with questions, the foremost being—why did everything Chen Anran did mirror Bai Miaoqing’s past behavior so precisely? An Ruxin had a theory, a guess… but the thought of it left her feeling nauseated and numb. The euphoria she’d felt just moments ago at hearing “I like you too” had completely evaporated, leaving her head hollow and deflated.

As the tide of emotions receded, reason regained its footing. One by one, the suspicions she’d had about Bai Miaoqing’s narrative surfaced, sending chills down her spine—no, worse, instilling a profound sense of fear.

Her head hurt more and more…

Did Chen Anran really die because of a ghost?

No… that couldn’t be. If something really strange had happened to Chen Anran, then why had Bai Miaoqing spoken with such heartfelt emotion? Was she born an actress? A masterful liar? Had she never truly… trusted you? No… it can’t be… Bai Miaoqing must have been sincere… she must have been…

Or—was it just that Bai Miaoqing had spoken what she believed was the truth?

Her legs went weak. An Ruxin slowly descended the stairs, her vision beginning to distort, her breathing growing labored. The deepest, most hidden part of her secret love began to twist into something strange, clutching at her heart. She felt like she might… throw up…

At some point, each step she took downward made her surroundings more unfamiliar, the light dimmer and dimmer. Though she should’ve still been in the stairwell, it was as if she had stepped into a boundless hell… and yet, the hell before her was… the view beneath deep green water.

Yes, the walls vanished. The building vanished. Even the stairs beneath her feet vanished. An Ruxin floated at the bottom of a deep green reservoir, her hands outstretched as the water flowed between her fingers.

This was… the bottom of the reservoir.

She didn’t know how, but she knew it. Her strength gone, she drifted forward…

In the inky green depths, she saw the girl below her.

A peaceful face. A dress gently billowing in the water. Long black hair splayed like underwater kelp.

Was she dead…? No—An Ruxin scolded herself for such a cruel thought. She wasn’t dead. She had merely fallen into a deep slumber, like a prehistoric insect trapped in resin, eventually becoming amber. And so, her most beautiful youth was preserved in the green water for all time.

This beautiful girl, so tranquil, opened her eyes to look at An Ruxin.

It was Chen Anran.

An Ruxin had always known… it was her.

So why had she ever cared whether Bai Miaoqing had noticed her or not?

It didn’t matter—she understood now.

The one she had always secretly loved—the one she loved the most—

The girl who encouraged her to perform at the New Year’s gala.

The girl who shared the stage with her.

The girl she glanced at under the spotlight.

The one who shone the brightest.

The one An Ruxin loved more than anyone…

——

She suddenly stumbled and fell. Sharp pain shot through her as she collapsed to the ground, clutching her ankle. Only then did she finally awaken from the dreamlike state and look around.

At some point, she had left the apartment complex…

An Ruxin brushed off her clothes, stood up with a blank expression, limped toward her car, started it, and drove to the hotel.

Bai Miaoqing was still waiting in the room.

It was already two in the afternoon. An Ruxin hadn’t eaten lunch, but she no longer felt hungry. She assumed her expression must look awful, because Bai Miaoqing asked nervously, “Ruxin, what happened…?”

“I went to Chen Anran’s place,” An Ruxin replied calmly. “Found something interesting… Her diary. She wrote a lot about you—seems like you two were really close… I’m so jealous… So, there are a few things I’d like to ask you. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah, it’s okay…”

She pulled the diary from her bag. She had thought she might be at a loss for words, but everything she wanted to say flowed easily: “Miaoqing, tell me again—how did Chen Anran die?”

Bai Miaoqing frowned, as if confused why she was being asked the same question again. “…Chen Anran was drowned by a ghost at the time.”

“What kind of ghost?”

“It was terrifying…”

“That’s too vague. We’ve both seen Chen Anran as a ghost, haven’t we? I’m asking about the ghost that killed Chen Anran—was it humanoid? A black mist? If it’s the legendary ‘ghost of a lovelorn girl,’ it should’ve been human-shaped, right? I looked into the legend. It supposedly dates back to a schoolgirl in the ’90s. So what exactly did you see? You said you ran away in fear after seeing a ghost, right? If you saw it, then describe it.”

“Ruxin, what’s wrong…? Your tone sounds so strange…”

An Ruxin suddenly shouted, “I told you to describe what the ghost looked like!”

Bai Miaoqing trembled all over, staring at her in terror, her lips trembling uncontrollably. An Ruxin panted heavily, her expression growing darker by the second.

Perhaps realizing she couldn’t evade the question any longer, Bai Miaoqing finally spoke: “The ghost didn’t have a body…! But I know there was a ghost! You’ve never been to the reservoir, so you don’t understand, okay?! I knew there was something there! Otherwise, why would Anran fall in?? I felt it—I really felt it! I didn’t describe it because I knew you wouldn’t understand, and you’d never believe me!!”

“So what you mean is—you saw Chen Anran fall, but you didn’t see a ghost, yet you’re certain she didn’t fall by accident. You felt an unnatural fear—something you couldn’t explain. You felt the presence of something supernatural, and you’re absolutely convinced—that’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Yes… but why are you talking like this…?”

“Let’s set that aside for now and look at this diary,” An Ruxin changed the subject, flipping through the notebook. “Miaoqing, you know this, right? When Chen Anran first went missing, the police took her diary to investigate. Only after they found nothing useful did they return it.”

“I know about that…” Bai Miaoqing bit her lip.

“I told you—this diary has lots of entries about you and Chen Anran. Not only that, she even kept the little notes you two passed to each other. Look—see? Oh, and besides that, she seemed obsessed with the legend of the reservoir. On the very last page of her diary, she mentioned both you and the reservoir.” She paused for a moment. “So I thought… If I were a cop, even if the exact date wasn’t certain and we couldn’t be sure she went to the reservoir the day she disappeared, this diary would still make two things very clear to investigate, right? One of them would definitely be to ask you what happened that day. So—what did you say to them?”

“They did ask,” Bai Miaoqing answered softly. “But no one would believe something like a ghost killing someone. Not even you, Ruxin. You swore you’d believe me, but now you still… That’s why I didn’t dare say anything. If I did, and since only Chen Anran and I went to the reservoir, the police would definitely suspect I killed her… So I said the diary was written the day before Anran disappeared, and the date we agreed to explore was the day after she disappeared. The part in the diary that says ‘I’ll tell her tomorrow when we meet’ refers to us agreeing on the reservoir trip the next day.”

“Then how did you two agree on the time and meeting spot?”

“We lived across from each other… The day before we went to the reservoir, she knocked on my door to make plans.”

“I think I get it now, is this it?” An Ruxin casually pulled a pen from her bag and started writing on a blank page at the back of the diary:

What Actually Happened

The day before Chen Anran disappeared: Forgot to leave the note, wrote the final diary entry, made plans with Bai Miaoqing in person.

The Day She Disappeared: Went to the reservoir with Bai Miaoqing, died.

What Bai Miaoqing Told the Police

The day before Chen Anran disappeared: Forgot to leave the note, wrote the last diary page, decided to make plans with Bai Miaoqing the next day.

The Day She Disappeared: Was supposed to meet with Bai Miaoqing to make plans, but mysteriously vanished.

The Day After She Disappeared: Supposed date of the reservoir trip.

Bai Miaoqing nodded, though she seemed a little confused. “Yeah, that’s about right…”

“Your version sounds pretty reasonable… After all, from the diary and the note, it’s clear Chen Anran wanted to tell you something that day — probably about the meetup for the reservoir trip. She just thought telling you the next day would be fine. That fits your version… but it doesn’t match what really happened,” An Ruxin said. “Because the truth is, she knocked on your door and told you the time and place that very same day. So what was she planning to tell you the day of the trip itself…? No, don’t look at me like that, I think you know what I mean, right? The day you went to the reservoir — the day Chen Anran died — she must’ve told you something, didn’t she? So what was it? Why won’t you tell me?”

“There wasn’t anything special…”

“That’s impossible, because—”

“I already told you!!” Bai Miaoqing’s voice suddenly turned shrill, full of fury. “She didn’t say anything!! Even if she was going to say something, she must’ve been drowned by the ghost before she could! So why keep pressing me?!”

“Fine. Let’s say that’s true.”

I’m going to be sick.

“Let’s go back to an earlier question. Miaoqing, I need you to really listen this time. You’ve admitted it, right? That you saw Chen Anran fall, and you were sure something invisible pushed her — you felt the ghost. And since no one would believe that, you were afraid of being suspected of murder, so you lied to the police.”

“I can’t take this anymore… Ruxin, what do you want from me?! If you think I’m lying, just say it already… How many times do I have to say it for you to believe me? Even under a lie detector I’d pass…! I didn’t see a physical body — it was a ghost!”

An Ruxin’s tone suddenly turned icy. “Here’s the thing. If what you’re saying is true — that a ghost pushed Chen Anran — then a normal police officer who doesn’t believe in ghosts would just assume it was an accident, right? All you had to do was describe what you saw, leave out the ghost part… or even say it was a ghost. The police would just think it was your mind breaking under pressure, unable to face your friend’s death. So why were you so scared they’d think you killed her?”

“I was just a kid back then, okay?! And I had just seen a ghost! How could I think that clearly?! An Ruxin—”

“So you were too shaken by the ghost to think it through,” An Ruxin cut her off. “Fine. Let’s keep going. Calm down and answer this: around the time Anran disappeared, besides you two, were there many people going to the reservoir?”

Bai Miaoqing took several deep breaths and seemed to settle a little. “It was an abandoned reservoir… but there were rumors about a ghost who granted wishes, so yeah, some people still went exploring. When I went with Anran, we saw trash in the water — someone had definitely been there. I think it wasn’t until I was in tenth grade that they built a wire fence, and then people gradually stopped going.”

“…” An Ruxin spoke slowly and clearly. “The second thing the police would do after reading this diary is pretty obvious — even an idiot could guess it: go check out the reservoir. Maybe they didn’t drain it because they lacked evidence or suspected human trafficking more. But regardless, people kept going there for a whole year. The police must’ve investigated. If someone drowned, the body should’ve floated up eventually… So why did no one ever find it?”

She continued, “The most likely explanation is the body got stuck on something at the bottom and couldn’t float. If you didn’t lie, the police should’ve found it by diving or draining the reservoir. The second possibility is… the body was never in the reservoir. But every time I’ve seen Chen Anran’s ghost, it’s been with that deep green current. So that’s probably not it…”

“Chen Anran was killed by a ghost. That’s why there’s no body.” This time Bai Miaoqing interrupted me. “You’ve been going on and on with all this… What are you even trying to say?”

“Nothing else.”

“Nothing…?”

“Mm. Why did you run away? Because of a ghost. Why lie to the police? Because of a ghost. Why didn’t Anran tell you anything special? Because of a ghost. Why was there no floating corpse? Because of a ghost…”

“I’ve had enough,” Bai Miaoqing said. “I’ve had enough!”

She suddenly lunged forward, grabbing An Ruxin’s shoulders tightly, her hair brushing against Ruxin’s face. Her eyes blazed, and her voice, now unfamiliar, cracked and spiraled out of control.

She screamed, “I’ve been holding it in!! Ever since you came in, you’ve been interrogating me like I’m some criminal. I told you everything! I told you the truth! All of it! You swore to me… didn’t you?! You swore you’d always believe me! But now you’re doubting me — is it because of Anran?! You saw her again, didn’t you?! She amplifies people’s negative emotions — that’s why you’re like this! I love you the most! I love you the most! So believe me—!”

An Ruxin was silent for a moment. Then she said:

“How did she really die?”

“I told you already… It was a ghost…”

Had enough?

An Ruxin was the one who had really… had enough.

Again and again and again, always “ghost this, ghost that” — her head was pounding, she felt like she’d throw up even if she tried to stay calm. Still lying even now? The girl she liked the most, had a crush on all this time, couldn’t possibly be this kind of person… Unless the lies had sunk so deep they’d become part of her nature — or she was just too scared of the truth to face it, a coward hiding behind self-deception… The girl she liked so, so much…

She really had enough.

“For every suspicious point, your answer is ‘a ghost,’” An Ruxin said coldly. Bai Miaoqing’s hair brushed against her cheek like frozen wind. “But I know the truth now — the story about the suicidal ghost at the reservoir… it was made up.”

She said, “The day Chen Anran died, there were no ghosts at the reservoir.”

Finally, it was said.

Author’s Note:

Next chapter — Bai Miaoqing’s perspective.