The most sinister "haunted house" in Jinling City has caused deaths again.
Su Tao squatted on the bluestone slab, and her fingertips touched the dark brown traces in the cracks of the threshold - it was blood, mixed with cinnabar and overnight dew.
Suddenly there was a kicking sound from behind the door, and the chains rattled. Huo Ye, the six-door "mad dog", kicked open the half-rotted wooden door, with a scar from his eyebrow bone to his jaw: "Why is the daughter of a gangster joining in the fun? All the people who died in this house had their tongues gouged out by ghosts!"
She tilted her head and smiled, bringing her blood-stained fingertips to his nose: "Captain Huo, smell it? This blood is mixed with the smell of bitter almonds - ghosts don't poison people with arsenic." She turned around and opened the straw mat, and a crescent-shaped bruise on the back of the deceased's neck appeared under her finger. "Besides..." She looked up at him, her eyes as cunning as raccoons, "If ghosts can really kill themselves, how can they write the word 'Zhenbei' on the beam?"
The bloody words on the beam are still oozing with fishy smell, and the corpse stench from the murder case twenty years ago is crawling out of the old case files along this blood mark.
