âDo you believe there are ghosts in this world?â
âMy name is He Feng. Iâm a journalist, and for many years, I have been investigating whether there are really ghosts in this world. I believe there are, we just havenât found them yet. To prove this, I have visited many places and questioned many people under the guise of my job. From my inquiries, I discovered that the older people are, the more they believe in ghosts, while younger people tend to think there are no ghosts in this world.â
âIs it superstition among the older generation? Or have they truly seen something terrifying in the past, which makes them so convinced?â
âIâm not sure, but out of interest and persistence, Iâve come to investigate an elderly home in Dadong City, hoping to gain some unique insights this time.â
A man wearing glasses, with somewhat coarse skin and a robust build, is recording quietly with a voice recorder at this moment.
After finishing his records, He Feng put away the voice recorder, bought some gifts nearby, and then walked into the elderly home with the gifts in hand.
The reason for choosing such a place is that He Feng thinks itâs most likely to find valuable leads here because the elderly have experienced a lot, and maybe one of them has truly encountered something inexplicable. Additionally, the elderly in a home lack companionship, making them easier to approach.
After entering the elderly home, He Feng communicated with the director, gained permission, and then prepared to start the formal interviews.
He didnât rush but rather took his time selecting interview targets.
There are many elderly people in the home, and interviewing each one individually was not feasible due to time constraints, as He Feng also needed to work and earn money. So, he could only select a few elderly individuals for interviews, using his judgment to screen them.
Having worked for many years, He Feng had developed some ability to read people. Some elderly might appear ordinary, but their faces are filled with stories.
âLetâs start with that old man.â
Soon, He Feng spotted an elderly man sitting alone in a wheelchair under a large tree, basking in the dappled sunlight, appearing very lonely, without a caregiver in sight to accompany him.
However, the man had his eyes half-closed and was dozing off, seeming to enjoy this serenity very much.
âAn elderly person who can enjoy solitude must have a very strong heart. Such a person usually has had extraordinary experiences in their youth,â thought He Feng to himself.
He walked over with a gift in his hand.
The elderly man in the wheelchair did not notice someone approaching, as if he had really fallen asleep.
âGrandpa, Grandpa, wake up, can you hear me?â
He Feng gently called out, though he knew it was impolite to disturb the elderly manâs rest, he had no choice, as he only had two hours set aside for interviews today.
The old man slowly opened his eyes and looked at him, âYoung man, whose child are you? I havenât seen you before.â
âI really apologize for disturbing your rest, Grandpa. Iâm a journalist conducting an interview, do you have some time? May I ask you a few questions? It wonât take much of your time,â He Feng said politely, taking out the voice recorder.
âAn interview? Iâm not interested. Go find someone else,â the old man refused.
âPlease accept this gift, Grandpa. I sincerely hope you can do this interview with me, please,â He Feng pleaded again, offering the gift.
The old man let out a snort and tossed the gift aside, not giving He Feng any face at all.
âOld Zhang, your temper is as foul as ever. This young man is so polite, even bringing you a gift and only asking you a few questions. No wonder no one talks to you, you deserve to die alone,â said another elderly man passing by, unable to resist intervening.
The elderly man in the wheelchair was called Old Zhang. He snorted, âIf youâre so good-hearted, why donât you be interviewed? Iâm not interested.â
âDonât say that. Iâd be happy to be interviewed. Young man, come over here, interview me instead. You can ask any questions you like, Iâm much easier to get along with, and I love chatting,â said the passing elderly man as he came over and sat down under a tree.
He Feng smiled awkwardly but couldnât refuse, so he shifted his focus to the walking elder: âGrandpa, may I have your last name?â
âI am Sun,â the grandpa replied warmly. âYoung man, donât just stand there, come, sit here. Itâs much better to sit down for the interview. Standing must be tiring.â
âAlright, Grandpa Sun, letâs begin then,â
He Feng activated the voice recorder, âGrandpa Sun, my first question is, do you believe there are ghosts in this world?â
âWhat? Ghosts?â
Grandpa Sun shook his head quickly and said, âIâm not superstitious. Iâm a staunch believer in science. Although many of my friends told ghost stories when I was youngâabout haunted places and deathsâI never believed them. If ghosts existed, why havenât I seen one? Young man, youâre so young, why are you so feudal? Thatâs not very good. Let me tell you about my glory days when I was vying to be the top in something. Do you know what being the top dog meansâŠâ
As Grandpa Sun began to ramble, he started to brag about his achievements in his youth.
To this, He Feng was not surprised, pondering how to steer the conversation or end the interview quickly.
Because this Grandpa Sun didnât seem like someone with a compelling story, it wasnât worth spending time interviewing him.
âBack then, when the haunting was intense, how did someone as ignorant as you manage to survive? You should be thankful youâve never seen a ghost. If you had, youâd be dead by now,â the elder named Zhang, sitting in the wheelchair, suddenly started shouting at Grandpa Sun.
âOld Zhang, how dare you curse me? Are you trying to provoke me? I was the top dog back in the day; Iâve never put up with this kind of crap!â Grandpa Sun couldnât take it after being insulted and stood up, ready to reclaim his pride.
At this moment, He Feng paused, then his eyes lit up as he gazed directly at the elder Zhang, feeling inexplicably excited inside.
This elder indeed had stories to tell; it seemed he knew something.
âGrandpa Sun, calm down, Iâm going to take Grandpa Zhang away now so as not to bother your walk.â
He Feng didnât want to let the two elders continue arguing, so he quickly stepped in, wheeling Grandpa Zhang away at once.
âOld Zhang, donât you dare leave, I want to challenge you today,â Grandpa Sun shouted, full of curses.
But He Feng moved even faster, not wanting to miss this excellent interview opportunity.
He wheeled Grandpa Zhang inside the building, found an empty room, and sat him down.
âI thought you were like those other journalists, coming here asking âare you doing well, are you happyâŠâ Ugh, as annoying as flies. Even if you say youâre not doing well or youâre unhappy, they wonât broadcast it. Asking is as good as not asking,â Grandpa Zhang seemed to have a deep prejudice against journalists.
âGrandpa, this is a private interview. Oh, I havenât introduced myself yet. My name is He Feng, and Iâve been seeking out folk tales of the supernatural. Earlier, I heard you mention that there was a severe haunting in the past? What did that mean? Was there a haunting here before?â He Feng asked.
âIt wasnât the elderly home that was haunted; it was over there,â Grandpa Zhang pointed in a direction outside the window.
He Feng looked in the direction pointed but saw nothing outside the window, âGrandpa, where are you referring to?â
âThere used to be a building, but it was demolished later.â
Grandpa Zhang spoke with a bit of reminiscing, âIt wasnât just that building that was haunted; at that time, ghosts were causing havoc all over the country. The places with severe hauntings saw entire cities sealed off, with no idea how many people died.â
âSealed cities due to hauntings?â He Feng was shocked, his body tingling with disbelief.
Really?
âGrandpa, I recall that roughly sixty years ago there were indeed some disaster events nationwide, like chemical leaks, major flu outbreaks, earthquakes, but those were all natural and man-made disasters. I never heard of cities being sealed due to hauntings,â He Feng inquired again.
As he was conducting interviews, naturally, he would be informed about major events of each era.
âWhat youâre talking about is fake, to cover up the truth about the hauntings, cough, cough,â Grandpa Zhang got somewhat emotional and couldnât help but cough.
âGrandpa, please donât get agitated,â He Feng quickly stood up to help calm the elderly manâs feelings.
After Grandpa Zhangâs emotions settled a bit, He Feng continued to ask, âGrandpa, youâre saying those disasters were fake. Do you have any evidence?â
âEvidence? What kind of evidence? My personal experience is the evidence,â Grandpa Zhang snorted heavily, âIf you donât believe it, donât ask so many questions. Do you think I enjoy telling you all this?â
âGrandpa, sorry, I donât mean to disbelieve you. After all, interviews need to ensure authenticity. So, can you talk about your experiences when you were young?â He Feng hastily apologized, then asked very curiously.
He felt that Grandpa Zhangâs story was unusual.
Today, his visit might achieve a major breakthrough.
Seeing He Fengâs good attitude, Grandpa Zhang softened his stance and slowly said, âI donât really want to talk about that event because Iâve been trying to forget what happened back then. But as an old man, I donât have much time left. Since you want to hear it, Iâll just treat it as telling a story.â
He Feng said nothing, quickly poured Grandpa Zhang a cup of tea, and prepared a recorder.
âMy surname is Zhang. My full name is Zhang Zhidong, and Iâm a local from Dadong City.â
The old man named Zhang Zhidong looked out the window, reminiscing as he spoke: âIt was about sixty years ago, back then I was just in my early twenties, very young. Unfortunately, at that young age, I had a tumor growing in my head.â
âThe doctor said the surgery was risky, and if I didnât have it, I might live half a year at most. However, the night before the surgery, as I lay on the hospital bed sleeping, I suddenly vanished from the hospital and found myself beneath a building over there.â
âSuddenly vanished? Can you explain in detail?â He Feng urgently interrupted, asking.
âExplain? How can I explain to you? I still donât understand it myself.â Zhang Zhidong replied.
âGrandpa, please continue.â He Feng asked no more, continuing to listen.
Zhang Zhidong said: âI remember clearly, when I suddenly appeared under the building, I wasnât even wearing shoes, just a hospital gown, and the night wind was particularly cold. I felt very cold at the time⊠Then, several mysterious people were staring at me. I was terrified, thinking they were kidnappers wanting to harvest my organs.â
âMysterious people?â He Feng quickly noted this important piece of information.
âLater I realized those mysterious people werenât kidnappers. One of them seemed to be their leader, wanting to make a deal with me. He asked me to sit on a red wooden bench and promised to help operate to remove my brain tumor afterwards. Back then, I wanted to refuse, but I had no choice and was forced to sit on that red wooden bench.â
Zhang Zhidong paused at this point.
âGrandpa, what is a wooden bench? Can you explain in detail?â He Feng took this opportunity to inquire.
âItâs just a piece of wood carved into a long bench, a rare piece of furniture from my era.â Zhang Zhidong said while gesturing.
Being a well-informed journalist, He Feng had seen some old objects and quickly sketched based on Zhang Zhidongâs description. In no time, the drawing of the long bench was complete.
âGrandpa, is this what you meant?â He showed the sketch.
Zhang Zhidong glanced at it, nodded: âYes, exactly. But it was painted with a bright red paint, so bright it looked like it was dripping with blood.â
âI was forcefully pinned onto that red wooden bench by the leader of the mysterious people, and at the moment I sat on it, I saw something I could never forget in my life.â
âWhat was it?â He Feng asked.
Zhang Zhidong slightly lowered his head, and in a suppressed voice said, âA ghost.â
A ghost?
He Feng was stunned, and then sheer excitement followed.
After investigating for so long, he finally met someone who had truly seen a ghost.
âWas it really a ghost? If there was a ghost on the bench, how did you not notice it before? Did the ghost do anything to you?â He Feng followed up with a series of questions.
Zhang Zhidong said to himself: âI couldnât comprehend that scene, because clearly there was nothing on that red bench before, yet when I sat on it, a ghost appeared.â
âThough it was nighttime, I saw it clearly. The ghost had no legs, as if it was fused with the red wooden bench, and it really wanted to kill me.â
âHowever, I was only filled with fear at the time, unable to move, and couldnât leave the wooden bench.â
âI donât know what that mysterious person did, but the ghost didnât end up killing me. I was pulled up from the bench not long after, and strangely, the ghost vanished as soon as I left the red wooden bench, leaving nothing on it.â
He Feng listened, suppressing his inner excitement, quickly jotting down his thoughts while recording.
A ghost appeared on the red wooden bench, only visible when sitting.
The ghost wanted to kill Zhang Zhidong but was stopped by some means by the mysterious person.
âŠ
âJust like that, I inexplicably completed a deal with that mysterious person. He took away the red wooden bench and quickly left with the other mysterious people, but a few seconds later, they bizarrely reappeared, saying they would help me with the surgery.â
Zhang Zhidong gestured as he spoke, reaching his hand towards He Fengâs forehead, âJust like this, the mysterious person extended a pitch-black hand, seamlessly passed through my head, and removed the tumor from my brain.â
He Feng covered his head, rubbed it, then said, âSo miraculous? Sounds like one of those ancient strange tales.â
âReality is stranger than fiction.â Zhang Zhidong snorted. âWithout that personâs surgery back then, I would have long been dead, with no chance of surviving.â
âBy the way, Grandpa, do you remember what that person looked like?â He Feng asked again.
Zhang Zhidong shook his head: âI donât remember, but I do remember the personâs name. After the surgery, I understood they meant me no harm, so I mustered the courage to ask a question. Though the person appeared cold, they were very kind and responded.â
âHe said his name was⊠Yang Jian.â
âYang Jian?â He Feng quickly recorded the name, another critical clue.
âGrandpa, who do you think this Yang Jian might be? From your description, it seems they possessed extraordinary abilities.â
Zhang Zhidong said: âThere were ghosts causing trouble everywhere at that time, naturally there were people fighting against them. When the hauntings became severe, I learned that these special people were called Ghost Tamers.â
âGhost Tamers? Sounds like a special profession, similar to the exorcists or Demon Exterminators in films.â He Feng said.
Zhang Zhidong didnât respond but sighed: âItâs a pity, I never saw that Yang Jian again, nor did I encounter any more ghosts. Now even if I speak out no one believes me. If it werenât for preserving my old medical records, I would doubt if there was something wrong with my mind, thinking it was all an illusion.â
âBut it doesnât matter; being alive is what counts.â
âYoung man, Iâve finished my story. Do you have anything else you want to ask?â
He Feng said: âNo, thank you, Grandpa, for your cooperation. I didnât expect to hear such a fantastic story today. By the way, Grandpa, can I see your old medical records?â
âNo problem, Iâll take you to them.â Zhang Zhidong said.
He Feng immediately stood up to push the wheelchair.
Zhang Zhidong led the young journalist to his room, then handed over the long-sealed medical records: âThese are of no use to me, Iâll give them to you. Iâm not sure if they count as evidence.â
He Feng repeatedly expressed his thanks, earnestly collecting the medical records to study them later.
âBy the way, what happened to your legs? I know several good doctors who might be able to help.â He subsequently asked with concern.
âYouâre a kind-hearted young man, but my legs arenât something a doctor can fix.â Zhang Zhidong shook his head, then pulled up his pants to reveal his legs.
He Feng glanced and his eyes immediately constricted.
What kind of legs were those? Withered, shriveled, twisted, hard to believe from a living person.
âMy legs were crippled long ago. I suspect itâs a hidden consequence from sitting on that red wooden bench back then. People often said ghosts were terrifying, that those who touched the supernatural became unlucky. I believe it. Young man, if you want to trace ghostly trails, I advise you to be careful and not lose your life heedlessly.â
Zhang Zhidong then lowered his pants, covering up his horrid legs.
He Feng took the opportunity to take a photo, feeling it served as proof that the story from the old man named Zhang Zhidong was not fictitious.
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
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