10

Realizing that I had an airtight plastic bag over my head, my breathing quickened, inhaling through my nose and mouth simultaneously. The bag shrank rapidly, sticking to my face.

I couldn't help but panic even more, and my body tilted to the side and fell off the chair.

As soon as I fell to the ground, I began to struggle desperately, rubbing my face against the ground. But the ground was made of concrete and was quite smooth. My face was sore and my nose was bleeding, but the plastic bag was not damaged at all.

If my hands were free, tearing the plastic bag would be easy, but the ropes were so tight that I couldn't even raise my arms slightly, and my hands couldn't even reach my head and neck.

I rolled back and forth in despair, straightening my back repeatedly like a carp, and trying to pry my hands apart with gritted teeth, but the rope or something like that that bound my wrists showed no sign of loosening, and instead tightened tighter and tighter against my flesh.

Icy damp air seeped up from the concrete floor, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. This couldn't go on; it was just a waste of precious oxygen. I forced myself to overcome my anxiety and fear and stop making any drastic movements. The monkey's death had proven that struggling was futile.

Oh, right, a carpenter's saw. I remembered the scene where Beavis sawed off a monkey's head. I raised my head with an effort and saw the handle of the carpenter's saw sticking out from the edge of the table.

Unable to stand, I rolled towards the altar, banging my body against its legs. The dishes and bowls on the table fell down first, shattering all over the floor. I continued banging without a care in the world, the broken glass piercing my arms and back. Finally, with a clang, the carpenter's saw fell.

Overjoyed, I turned my back to grab it. After several adjustments, my fingertips finally touched the saw blade, and were immediately cut by the sharp teeth. But the pain of injury was mixed with joy and the hope of life. I gripped the edge of the saw firmly, trying to saw through the restraints on my wrists. However, with the limited range of my fingers, it was difficult to align with the knot between my hands, and I had no strength at all.

The remaining oxygen in the plastic bag was running low. I struggled to breathe, but the suffocation didn't ease at all; it only intensified. I steeled myself, my fingers still gripping the saw blade, and rolled over, pressing my entire body against it.

The saw teeth dug into my clothes, scratching my back. Judging by the location of the injury, the blade should be aimed at my wrist. I tightened the muscles attached to my spine, pushed my feet hard against the ground, and used my body weight and the strength of my fingers to suppress the saw blade's movement, cutting towards my wrist.

The pain was so intense that I felt dizzy and a hot tear rolled down my cheek. The saw blade dug deep into my flesh, damaging my bones. But the binding around my wrists remained intact.

The plastic bag clung to my face, blocking my nostrils and mouth. My consciousness was clouded by lack of oxygen. There was no time to adjust my position; I could only push on. I bent my legs, trying to push again, but I found I had no strength left.

"Idiot!" I cursed myself silently. Although my brain knew what was the right decision, my body was afraid. My muscles stiffened, cowering, resisting, refusing to obey.

Just one more time, it'll be sawed open soon. I consoled myself, took a deep breath, gathered my strength, and took advantage of the slightest relaxation to suddenly kick my legs. The pain returned, and my wrist still didn't free.

The relentless sawing and slashing felt like a relay race through hell, with no end in sight. I even began to wish my fingers had been amputated sooner rather than later, so the pain wouldn't be so severe. Fortunately, as consciousness faded, my hands rapidly lost feeling, and the pain faded.

I realized my life was drawing to a close, and a wave of regret washed over me. In the fleeting, illusory world of light and shadow, all sorts of trivial things I wanted to do but hadn't yet resolved to do came flooding back. I wanted to skip school, travel far, go to the seaside, grow up normally, and watch the moonlight reflected on the lake with Li Zitong again. In the past, I lived my life in a rut, believing there was still time to waste.

Someone ripped the plastic bag off my face.

The fresh air tasted like rich, sweet honey. I breathed in greedily, swallowing it in huge gulps. Then my body regained consciousness. The pain was intense, as if someone had poured sulfuric acid on my wounds. My whole body trembled uncontrollably. But it didn't matter. I survived.

"It feels good to be alive, right?" A man's voice came from the side.

The voice sounded strangely familiar. I looked up, my blood running cold, and fear rose to my throat, turning into a scream.

A man stood with his back against the wall, only two steps away from me. The room was dimly lit, and with the plastic bag over his head, I couldn't see him at all.

He wore a full-face wool cap with cutout holes, like a bank robber in a movie, with only his eyes showing. They were intimidating eyes, with small, pointed pupils and the whites of his eyes visible from top to bottom and left to right.

Although I knew I couldn't escape, I still used my hands and feet to crawl towards the door like a cabbage worm. The door was not closed tightly, leaving a gap.

The man approached me calmly, grabbed the knot securing the plastic bag around my neck, and dragged me back. I was pushed back onto the chair I'd been sitting on. He took the rope and re-tied my hands and feet, this time directly to the chair. After tying them, he examined them from every angle, like a craftsman admiring his work.

"The feeling of suffocation is unforgettable, right?" the man asked.

I didn't know whether to nod or shake my head, or even if I needed to answer.

"I've been there, so I know it all too well. When I was young and ignorant, I offended someone I shouldn't have, and I got treated like this three times. They'd cover my mouth and nose with wet newspaper, wait until I passed out, and then splash water on me to wake me up. Three times in total, and each time it felt like a walk on the edge of hell."

Judging from his voice, the man before me was clearly a beggar, not to mention he hadn't even changed his clothes. It was hard to tell if he'd covered his face to disguise his identity or to better intimidate me. Regardless, I'd rather pretend I didn't recognize him.

"Do you think doing it three times is too much? But the truth is, it wasn't until the third time that I finally gave in and spilled the name they wanted. Afterward, they actually praised me for my loyalty; no one had ever waited until the third time before speaking. But now that I'm old, looking back, I just think I was so stupid back then. Anyway, I had to tell the truth anyway, so why suffer needlessly? Don't you agree?"

This time the question was clear. I nodded.

His next question was a direct revelation of his identity: "Why were you hiding behind my house and eavesdropping?"

"Out of curiosity." The voice was so sharp that it sounded like a whistle, and it was almost unrecognizable as his own.

"But what are you curious about? Where can I find evidence of the murder?"

"No, I don't know anything... I'm just Zheng Kun's friend, and I think his illness is a bit strange..."

"You lied to my face." The Beggar raised his index finger. "Just once, and you won't get another chance. I know you're the police officer's kid, and I know what you know. If you keep talking nonsense, I'll have to invite you to go to limbo again."

My already fragile mental defenses collapsed. I didn't want to die, I just wanted to keep living. That was the only thought in my head, leaving no room for anything else. I answered whatever Besi asked me next. He started by asking about how Zheng Kun and I met, and then continued with the reason for this visit.

At first, I could barely utter complete sentences; my speech was disjointed and incoherent. But Beazi showed appropriate patience and tolerance, seemingly refusing to interrupt me as long as he knew I was telling the truth. After realizing this, my mind gradually regained its normal functioning, and my speech became more coherent. I began to deliberately complicate things in an attempt to delay the conversation.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. Judging by the color of the sunlight outside the window, it was already late, and my parents were probably already anxiously searching for me. I had mentioned Zheng Kun's criminal suspicion to my father before, and he might have connected the two incidents and come all the way here to find me.

But I soon realized I had very little information to buy time. The facts were quickly exhausted, and I had no choice but to volunteer information about things Bezos hadn't asked about, such as my own theories about the truth of the case. But Bezos always interrupted me at the beginning. Just as I was about to run out of things to say, at my wit's end, he suddenly showed a keen interest in a detail.

"You said the police suspected the video store was a murder scene and searched it thoroughly, but found no evidence?"

I nodded and explained in detail how the luminol reagent could identify hidden bloodstains.

For the first time, traces of emotion appeared in Besi's eyes. "That's impossible. That's the crime scene, and there was indeed blood. When Kun first found the body, she was pinned under the container."

Hearing the unbelievable words, I couldn't help but repeat myself, "You said 'found a body'?"

He glanced at me arrogantly. "That woman's death was a complete accident. A shelf fell over and hit her on the head. Coincidentally, Kun had stolen videotapes from the video store that day and left evidence at the scene."

Beazi explained the entire course of events, from the early morning of New Year's Day until the next day. The flood of information flooded into my head, and I felt dizzy.

"Wait, I don't understand," I asked. "If the death was an accident, wouldn't it be better to just call the police and explain the truth?"

"Some things are more reliable if you handle them yourself."

"So you came up with the solution of using a coal train to dump the body thousands of miles away? Wouldn't that make it even harder to clear Zheng Kun of suspicion? No one would believe he's innocent anymore."

A sarcastic laugh emanated from beneath the woolen hat. "So what? People like us with criminal records are naturally prime suspects in the eyes of the police. Once we're arrested, they'll find something even if nothing's wrong."

Due to my lack of social experience, I couldn't come up with any arguments to refute my claims. A wave of regret welled up deep within me. I realized the reason I hadn't been able to uncover the truth: I had been blinded by past hatred, subconsciously assuming Zheng Kun was the murderer and instinctively rejecting any other possibilities.

But at the same time, I realized something was amiss. At this point, there was no reason for Beazi not to tell the truth. But what he said conflicted inexplicably with the information I had. The truth was definitely not as simple as it seemed.

"Why did you throw the videotape into the well when you dumped the body? It was clearly very unfavorable evidence." I couldn't help but ask.

"Who said I threw those things in there!" The beggar suddenly raised his voice, and my heart skipped a beat.

"But they did find it at the scene, and it was even reported in the newspaper..."

"Of course I've seen the news. Otherwise, why do you think I hired someone to perform an exorcism? It's truly bizarre! I checked the body carefully before throwing it in. I took off my coat, my watch, and even the shopping receipts from my pants pocket... But where did those videotapes come from?"

"Impossible..." I was halfway through my sentence when I realized something. My mind was unconsciously thinking about the media's tireless coverage of this issue. The female corpse in the well, "The Ring" and the mysterious videotape, and the four words that Zheng Kun kept repeating over and over again in his delirium...

"Curse of the evil spirit," Bezoar muttered, shuddering and closing his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he abandoned me and knelt again before the altar, burning incense and offering sacrifices. Even from several meters away, I could still hear his heavy, ragged breathing.