The call came in late September, as autumn was beginning to paint the leaves of Dragon Pearl City in shades of gold and crimson. The city's air carried the crisp scent of changing seasons, tinged with the subtle aroma of roasted chestnuts from street vendors and the acrid smoke of late summer construction. Mark Li and Lin Wei had returned to the city after their harrowing experience in Qingming Village, renting a small apartment in a quieter neighborhood where they could continue their training and research without the constant vigilance required at the monastery.
Their time in the mountains had changed them both. The consciousness merging technique they had used to defeat Tengri and later to survive the encounter with the Hunger That Walks Between Worlds had created a permanent bond between them. They could now sense each other's thoughts and emotions across distances, a connection that was both intimate and practical in their line of work.
This particular afternoon found them in their small apartment, surrounded by books and research materials. The soft amber glow of their reading lamps illuminated ancient scrolls and modern devices alike, casting dancing shadows on the walls that reminded them of their recent adventures. Mark was studying ancient texts about electromagnetic phenomena and spiritual energy, his fingers tracing characters that seemed to shimmer slightly in the lamplight as if responding to his thoughts. Lin Wei was cross-referencing folklore records with modern paranormal accounts, the familiar scent of her grandfather's old books mixing with the crisp pages of contemporary scientific journals. The comfortable domesticity of their shared life was a welcome contrast to the constant dangers they faced. The apartment was filled with the gentle sounds of turning pages, the soft scratch of Lin Wei's brush as she copied important passages, and the quiet hum of Mark's electronic equipment—a symphony of scholarly pursuit that had become as comforting as a lullaby.
The bond between them occasionally sparked with shared emotions—Lin Wei's sudden warmth of affection when she discovered an interesting passage, or Mark's focused intensity when he identified a pattern in his data. The connection was subtle but ever-present, like a gentle pulse that reminded them they were no longer alone in their work.
Mark's phone rang, its sharp electronic chime cutting through the quiet concentration of their work like a blade through silk. The familiar sound made both of them look up from their respective studies—the harsh ring seeming almost intrusive in their carefully cultivated sanctuary of learning. The caller ID showed a number he hadn't seen in years—Chen Wei, a former university classmate who now worked as a property manager for one of the city's most exclusive real estate companies.
"Mark Li," Chen's voice came through the phone, strained and urgent, like a man drowning in an ocean of stress. The static and distance in his voice suggested he was calling from somewhere noisy, perhaps a busy street or an office full of worried employees. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I have a situation that's... beyond anything I've ever encountered."
"What kind of situation?" Mark asked, his instincts already alerting him to the supernatural nature of the problem. He could feel Lin Wei's attention focus on him, her ancient brush pausing mid-stroke as she listened with the keen awareness that came from months of working alongside him.
"It's at Jade Dragon Tower," Chen explained. "The luxury high-rise on the west side. We're having what everyone is calling a haunting, but it's not like any haunting I've ever read about."
Jade Dragon Tower was one of the most prestigious residential buildings in Dragon Pearl City, a fifty-story skyscraper with apartments that cost millions of dollars. Its residents were doctors, lawyers, business executives, and wealthy families who expected—and paid for—the utmost in security and comfort.
"Go on," Mark said, his interest piqued.
"It started about three weeks ago," Chen continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Residents on the upper floors began reporting sounds—specifically, the sound of a child crying. Always late at night, always around the same time, between midnight and three in the morning."
Mark felt a chill run down his spine. Child spirits were some of the most tragic and dangerous entities in the supernatural world. Children who died with unresolved issues often remained bound to the place of their death, their cries echoing through the halls like a mournful lullaby.
"At first, everyone dismissed it as imagination or building noise," Chen continued. "But then more people started hearing it. The sounds became clearer, more distinct. Some residents claimed they could hear the child calling for their mother."
"Have you investigated?" Mark asked, already pulling out a notebook to take notes.
"Of course," Chen said, his voice filled with frustration. "I've had maintenance teams check every floor, every apartment, every pipe and electrical connection. I've hired acoustic engineers, security consultants, even a psychic who claimed to be able to communicate with spirits. No one could find any explanation for the sounds."
"And the residents?" Mark asked.
"Panic," Chen said simply. "Three families have already moved out. Others are threatening to break their leases. The building's reputation is being destroyed. The property management company is losing millions."
"Have the police been involved?"
"Twice," Chen confirmed. "They came the first time when a resident called emergency services, claiming there was a child in danger. They searched the entire building, floor by floor, apartment by apartment. No child, no evidence of any crime. The second time was last week, after multiple residents filed formal complaints about the disturbances. The police conducted another thorough investigation, with the same results."
"Yet the crying continues," Mark concluded.
"Every night," Chen confirmed. "And it's getting worse. Last night, a resident on the thirty-third floor recorded the sound. It's clear as day, Mark. It sounds like a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, crying her heart out. The recording went viral on social media. Now the media is involved, and the company is desperate."
Mark looked at Lin Wei, who had been listening quietly to his side of the conversation. Her expression was thoughtful, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"I have a partner now," Mark said into the phone. "Lin Wei. She has expertise in Chinese folklore and supernatural phenomena. We'll come take a look."
"Thank you," Chen said, relief evident in his voice. "When can you be here?"
"This evening," Mark said. "We'll need access to the building, preferably after most residents have gone to bed. The sounds are most active late at night, correct?"
"Always between midnight and three AM," Chen confirmed. "I'll arrange for you to have unrestricted access. I'll meet you at the building at eleven PM."
As Mark ended the call, Lin Wei looked at him with concern. "A child's spirit in a luxury high-rise? That's unusual. Most child hauntings occur in places where the child actually lived or died."
"Which means this might be something else entirely," Mark agreed. "Or the child's death was recent enough that the spirit hasn't had time to move on."
"Or," Lin Wei suggested, "it might not be a spirit at all. Some supernatural entities can mimic human voices, especially the voices of children, to attract attention or manipulate the living."
"That's a possibility we'll need to consider," Mark said, already gathering their investigation equipment. "Either way, this sounds like a serious case. If a spirit is powerful enough to affect an entire fifty-story building, we're dealing with something dangerous."
They spent the afternoon preparing for the investigation. Mark checked and calibrated his equipment—electromagnetic field meters, thermal cameras, audio recorders capable of capturing frequencies beyond human hearing, and various other devices designed to detect and analyze supernatural phenomena.
Lin Wei prepared her own tools—traditional Chinese protective talismans, blessed salt for creating protective barriers, herbs for purification rituals, and her grandfather's journals, which contained detailed information about different types of spirits and the methods for dealing with each.
As they worked, Mark noticed that Lin Wei seemed distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere. "What's on your mind?" he asked gently.
"This case," she said softly, her fingers tracing the edge of a protective talisman. "The sound of a child crying... it reminds me of the stories my grandfather used to tell me. He said that the most dangerous spirits are often those that seem most innocent."
"Because people let their guard down," Mark guessed.
"Because they play on our most basic instincts—our need to protect children, our instinct to comfort those who are suffering," Lin Wei explained. "Even seasoned investigators can be compromised by a child's cries. It's hard to remain objective when your heart wants to help."
Mark understood exactly what she meant. In their line of work, emotional detachment was a survival mechanism. But some cases tested that detachment more than others, and cases involving children were always the hardest.
"We'll be careful," Mark promised, his hand covering hers. "We'll approach this scientifically, methodically. But we'll also be compassionate. If there is a child spirit involved, we need to help it find peace, not just drive it away."
Lin Wei nodded, her expression grateful. "That's what I love about working with you, Mark. You never forget that behind every supernatural phenomenon, there's often a human tragedy."
Their conversation was interrupted by another phone call—this time from Master Chen at the monastery. The old monk had been monitoring electromagnetic activity across the region, and he had detected unusual readings coming from the west side of the city, specifically from the area around Jade Dragon Tower.
"There's something happening there," Master Chen said, his voice serious. "The energy fluctuations are subtle but persistent. They don't match the patterns I've recorded from other supernatural events. This is something different."
"What kind of different?" Mark asked.
"More... artificial," the monk said slowly, as if searching for the right words. "Less organic, more manufactured. It's as if someone is deliberately creating these disturbances, rather than them occurring naturally."
That was a sobering thought. Most supernatural phenomena occurred spontaneously, the result of natural spiritual processes or the lingering energy of traumatic events. A deliberately manufactured disturbance suggested intelligence and planning, possibly malice.
"We'll keep that in mind," Mark said. "Thank you for the information, Master Chen. We'll be careful."
As evening fell over Dragon Pearl City, Mark and Lin Wei made their way to Jade Dragon Tower. The air had grown cooler with the approaching night, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic and the lingering warmth of the day's sun on concrete and glass. The building was even more impressive than Mark had imagined—a gleaming glass and steel tower that rose into the night sky like a modern mountain, its windows lit up like stars against the dark backdrop of the city. The structure's surface reflected the city lights in a kaleidoscope of colors, creating an almost ethereal glow that made it seem more like a beacon than a building.
As they approached, Mark noticed subtle details that spoke to the building's luxury status: the polished black marble of the entrance steps, so reflective it seemed like liquid; the soft ambient lighting that highlighted architectural features without being harsh; and the almost imperceptible hum of the building's sophisticated climate control system. The night air around the tower felt different—cooler, denser somehow, as if the massive structure created its own microclimate.
Chen Wei was waiting for them at the entrance, his face pale with exhaustion and stress. He was a man in his early forties, wearing a suit that had been expensive that morning but now looked rumpled and sweat-stained. The fabric had lost its crisp lines, and his tie was slightly askew, evidence of a long day spent dealing with increasingly desperate residents and mounting pressure from his company. His eyes, when he looked up to see them approaching, held a mixture of relief and anxiety that spoke to the gravity of the situation inside.
"I'm so glad you're here," Chen said, shaking Mark's hand with relief. "The media has been calling all day. The residents are organizing a protest. The building's board is threatening to fire me. This is a complete disaster."
"Let's start with the basics," Mark said, his voice calm and professional. "Tell us everything you know about the disturbances—their pattern, their intensity, any other unusual phenomena."
Chen led them through the lobby, which was deserted except for a security guard who watched them with curiosity and concern. "The crying started about three weeks ago," he began as they waited for the elevator. "At first, it was just one resident on the thirty-third floor, an elderly woman who claimed she heard a child crying in the hallway."
They stepped into the elevator, a sleek glass capsule that whisked them upward with silent efficiency. The interior was lined with brushed steel and mirrors that reflected their faces back at them—Lin Wei looking thoughtful and composed, Mark alert and focused, and Chen appearing even more haggard in the glass. As they rose through the building, Mark could feel the subtle pressure change in his ears, and he noticed that the elevator's ascent was so smooth it was almost disorienting—no sense of movement except for the floor indicator counting upward.
"The next night, two more residents on the same floor reported similar sounds. Then it spread to other floors—thirty-fourth, thirty-second, eventually even down to the twentieth floor," Chen began as they waited for the elevator.
"Always the same sound?" Lin Wei asked, her mind already working through the possibilities, her fingers absently touching the protective talisman she kept in her pocket.
"Always a child crying," Chen confirmed. "Sometimes it's soft, almost a whimper, like a baby in its sleep. Other times it's loud, wailing, as if the child is in terrible pain. Some residents have reported hearing words—'Mommy,' 'help me,' 'it hurts.' The sounds seem to move through the building, following different paths each night, as if the child is searching for something—or someone."
The elevator opened on the thirty-third floor with a soft chime that seemed almost musical in the silence of the late evening. The corridor revealed itself to be elegantly decorated but eerily silent. The floor was carpeted in thick, luxurious material that absorbed all sound, creating an almost muffled atmosphere that felt like walking through a tomb. The walls were painted in soothing earth tones—warm beiges and soft taupes that had once been comforting but now seemed to close in on them in the oppressive quiet. The lighting was soft and indirect, creating pools of warm light separated by gentle shadows that seemed to hide more than they revealed.
"Most residents on this floor have moved out," Chen explained, leading them down the hallway. His footsteps were barely audible on the thick carpet, and the sound of their breathing seemed amplified in the oppressive silence. "The ones who remain are staying in hotels or with family. They're too scared to stay here at night. The building has never experienced anything like this—usually our residents feel completely safe here, protected from the world below."
He stopped outside apartment 3301, the door bearing a nameplate that read "The Wang Family." "This is where it started," Chen said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as if afraid to disturb something sleeping. "Mrs. Wang was the first to report the crying. She said it was unlike anything she'd ever heard—so pure and desperate, like a cry from the soul itself."
Mark began his investigation systematically, starting with a thorough examination of the apartment. It was spacious and expensively furnished, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city lights twinkling below like fallen stars. Persian rugs in rich burgundies and golds covered the hard floors, and the furniture was clearly chosen with care—each piece a blend of modern comfort and classical elegance. The air itself seemed thick, heavy with scents of expensive air fresheners and cleaning products that had been used desperately to mask other, less pleasant odors that lingered just beneath the surface.
But despite the luxury, there was an atmosphere of tension and fear that seemed to permeate every room. The furniture was positioned as if inhabitants had fled suddenly—not chaotic, but with an underlying sense of hurried departure. Several paintings hung slightly askew, as if adjusted nervously by someone seeking comfort in familiar activities. And beneath it all, Mark could sense something else—a presence, subtle but persistent, like a weight pressing down on the air itself.
"The Wang family moved out last week," Chen explained as Mark set up his equipment. The electronic devices seemed almost intrusive in the refined setting, their plastic casings and blinking lights a stark contrast to the elegant surroundings. "They said they couldn't sleep anymore, that the crying was keeping them awake every night. They broke their lease and forfeited their security deposit rather than stay another night. Mrs. Wang left most of her jewelry behind—things that had to be worth small fortunes. Fear makes people do strange things."
Mark deployed his electromagnetic field meter, immediately detecting elevated readings in the master bedroom. The readings weren't extreme, but they were consistent and localized, suggesting the presence of spiritual energy.
"Lin Wei," Mark called out. "Come take a look at this."
Lin Wei entered the room, her eyes already scanning for signs of supernatural activity. "The energy here is... complicated," she said, her voice thoughtful. "It's not like the residual energy we found in the university dormitory. This feels more... active, more purposeful."
Mark nodded in agreement. "It's almost as if something is broadcasting from this location, using this room as a focal point."
As they continued their investigation, Mark's thermal camera detected a cold spot in the corner of the room, near the large walk-in closet. The temperature there was several degrees lower than the rest of the apartment, despite the building's sophisticated climate control system.
"What's in the closet?" Mark asked.
"Just clothes and shoes," Chen said. "The Wang family left most of their belongings when they moved out in such a hurry."
Lin Wei approached the closet cautiously, her hand moving to the protective talismans she kept in her pocket. As she reached for the door handle, Mark's electromagnetic field meter suddenly spiked, the needle jumping into the red zone.
"Wait," Mark warned, pulling her back. "There's something in there."
The cold spot intensified, the temperature dropping so dramatically that they could see their breath in the air. The low-frequency hum they had detected in Qingming Village began to emanate from the closet, though it was much weaker here, more subtle.
"Get ready," Mark said softly, his hand moving to the frequency generator he had modified after their experience in the mountains. "Something is about to happen."
For a moment, nothing happened. The silence in the room was complete, broken only by the soft hum of the building's systems and their own breathing. Then they heard it—the faint sound of a child crying, coming from inside the closet.
The sound was heartbreaking—a little girl's voice, thin and wavering, filled with pain and confusion. "Mommy," the voice whispered, "it hurts. Please, Mommy, make it stop."
Lin Wei's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and empathy. Even Mark, who had faced countless supernatural threats, felt a chill run down his spine. The voice was so real, so filled with genuine suffering, that it was impossible to maintain emotional distance.
"It's coming from the closet," Chen whispered, his face pale with fear. "But that's impossible. There's nothing in there."
Mark approached the closet slowly, his equipment readings continuing to climb. The electromagnetic field was fluctuating wildly now, creating complex patterns that suggested multiple energy sources rather than a single entity.
"We need to open it," Mark said, his voice firm despite the growing tension in the room. "Whatever is causing this, it's in there."
Lin Wei nodded, her expression determined despite the tears welling in her eyes. "But we should be prepared. If there's a spirit in there, it might be confused or frightened."
Mark positioned himself in front of the closet door, his frequency generator ready in his grip, its familiar weight providing a sense of security in the face of the unknown. Lin Wei stood beside him, clutching a protective talisman in each hand until her knuckles showed white against her skin. The blessed paper seemed to glow faintly in the room's lighting, and she whispered an ancient incantation under her breath. Chen hovered behind them, clearly terrified but unwilling to leave his guests to face whatever lay within alone, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"On three," Mark said softly, his voice barely audible in the oppressive silence. "One... two... three..."
He pulled open the closet door with a smooth motion, the hinges making a soft whisper of sound. For a moment, there was nothing inside—just racks of expensive clothes hanging on designer hangers that gleamed in the room's light, and shelves of shoes arranged with careful organization, all belonging to the Wang family. The crying stopped abruptly with a suddenness that made their ears ring, the silence returning with such completeness that they could hear their own heartbeats. The closet was normal, mundane, filled with the ordinary possessions of people who had lived ordinary lives—except for the supernatural energy that still radiated from within.
"Nothing," Chen said, his voice filled with confusion and momentary relief, but tinged with disappointment as well. "There's nothing here but clothes and shoes."
But Mark wasn't convinced. His equipment was still showing elevated readings that scrolled across the display in complex, chaotic patterns, and he could feel a presence in the room with an intensity that made his skin crawl. Something was watching them, waiting, playing with them like a cat with a mouse. The supernatural cold hadn't diminished one degree, and now he could sense a malevolent intelligence behind it, one that was toying with them.
"It's here," Mark said softly, his eyes scanning the empty closet but sensing that the presence had somehow become more focused. "Just not visible. It's as if it's hiding in plain sight, using the emptiness to mask its true nature."
As if in response to his words, the temperature dropped again, dramatically this time. The air grew thick and heavy, so dense it felt like swimming through water, charged with an energy that seemed to press in on them from all directions like the weight of the world. The very walls seemed to pulse with barely contained power. And then the crying started again—louder this time, more desperate, as if the spirit had somehow moved deeper into the apartment and was calling for help rather than hiding.
"Help me," the child's voice wailed, seeming to come from everywhere at once like an echo in a vast canyon. "Please, somebody help me. It hurts so much. I can't find my way out. Everything's so dark, and I'm so scared. Mommy, why won't you wake up?"
Lin Wei stepped forward, her training and compassion warring within her as her voice remained gentle but firm. "We're here to help," she said, her words carefully chosen to offer comfort while maintaining their safety protocols. "What's your name, sweetie? We want to help you, Mei-Mei."
For a moment, there was no response, as if the spirit was deciding whether to trust them. Then the child's voice answered, small and hesitant, carrying the weight of genuine childhood vulnerability. "Mei-Mei. That's what Mommy calls me. But Mommy won't wake up. She's been sleeping for so long, and when I try to wake her up, she doesn't answer."
"Mei-Mei," Lin Wei repeated softly, her voice filled with maternal warmth that she couldn't suppress. "That's a beautiful name. Mei-Mei, can you tell us what happened? Why are you crying? Where is Mommy?"
The child's voice became more distressed, the crying intensifying to heart-wrenching sobs that seemed to resonate in their bones. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry I wasn't good. I didn't mean to make you angry. Please don't hurt me again. I promise I'll be better, I promise I won't spill the milk anymore, I won't break your favorite vase, I'll eat all my vegetables, I'll be quiet when you're on the phone..."
Mark and Lin Wei exchanged worried glances that passed between them an entire conversation about the implications. The child's words suggested abuse rather than an accident, a pattern of violence rather than a single traumatic event. This wasn't just about a death—it was about a life of suffering that had continued beyond the grave.
"Mei-Mei," Mark said, his voice careful and measured, trying to project calm and safety. "Your mom is sleeping. We're going to help wake her up, okay? But first, can you tell us where you are right now? Are you with Mommy?"
The crying stopped abruptly, replaced by a chilling silence so complete that even the building's systems seemed muted. Then, in a voice that was suddenly cold and adult, filled with hate and rage, the spirit responded: "She's here."
The change was dramatic and terrifying, like listening to one person's voice suddenly become another's. The child's voice vanished completely, replaced by a woman's voice—cold, angry, filled with a hatred so pure and consuming that it seemed to radiate from the very walls of the apartment like heat from a furnace.
"Who are you?" the woman's voice demanded, each word crisp and sharp as broken glass. "Why are you in my home? This is my space, my sanctuary. You have no right to be here."
"This is the Wang family's apartment," Mark said calmly, though his heart was racing and he could feel Lin Wei's tension beside him. "The Wang family moved out because of the disturbances. We're investigators, trying to understand what's happening and help resolve it."
"This is my home," the woman's voice insisted, growing louder and more aggressive, each word seeming to shake the very air around them. "Mei-Mei is my daughter. This is our place, our refuge from the world that hurt us. You have no right to be here, no right to interfere with what we've built."
The energy in the room began to build rapidly, the air crackling with static electricity that made their hair stand on end and filled their mouths with the metallic taste of ozone. Mark's equipment was going crazy, the needles swinging wildly across the dials and the digital displays flashing error messages as they struggled to process the chaotic energy readings.
"Whatever you are," Mark said firmly, "you need to leave these people alone. Their suffering doesn't help you or your daughter."
The woman's laugh was cruel and mocking. "Their suffering? They deserve everything they get. They took everything from me. Now I'll take everything from them."
As she spoke, the apartment began to shake, not with the violence of an earthquake, but with a deep, resonant vibration that seemed to come from within the walls themselves. Pictures fell from their hooks, glass shattered, and the building's alarm system began to blare.
"We need to get out of here," Mark shouted over the rising noise. "Now!"
They fled the apartment, Chen leading the way down the corridor toward the elevator. As they ran, Mark could feel the entity's presence pursuing them, a cold malevolence that seemed to seep into their bones.
The elevator arrived just as they reached it, and they piled inside, punching the button for the lobby repeatedly. As the doors closed, Mark could see the corridor behind them begin to warp and distort, as if reality itself was breaking down.
"That was..." Chen started to say, but he couldn't find the words to finish.
"Not a child spirit," Mark completed grimly. "Something much more dangerous."
The elevator ride down was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The experience in apartment 3301 had been terrifying, but it had also provided crucial information. Whatever was haunting Jade Dragon Tower wasn't a simple child spirit—it was something that could mimic voices, that could manipulate reality, that had a personal vendetta against the residents.
When they reached the lobby, Chen immediately called building security, reporting the damage to apartment 3301 and requesting immediate assistance. While he was occupied, Mark pulled Lin Wei aside.
"This is worse than I thought," he said softly. "That entity has been here for a while, feeding on the fear and suffering of the residents. It's growing stronger."
"And it's connected to a real child," Lin Wei added, her voice filled with concern. "The voice we heard—Mei-Mei—sounded like a real little girl. Not a spirit, but a living child."
Mark nodded slowly. "I think you're right. The child's voice was too authentic, too filled with genuine emotion. And the woman's voice... she mentioned that 'they took everything from her.' What if the woman is the child's mother, and something happened to both of them?"
"We need to investigate the building's records," Lin Wei suggested. "Resident lists, maintenance reports, any incidents that might have occurred in the building recently."
"And we need to find out who lived in apartment 3301 before the Wang family," Mark added. "The entity seems to be connected to that specific location."
Chen joined them, his face grim. "Security is on their way up to assess the damage. I've also arranged for you to have access to the building's records—everything you need to investigate this thoroughly."
"Thank you," Mark said. "We'll need to see resident lists for the past few years, any reports of accidents or deaths in the building, and especially any information about previous occupants of apartment 3301."
Chen nodded, already pulling out his phone to make arrangements. "I'll have everything ready for you in the building management office. But be careful. Whatever is in that building, it's dangerous."
As they made their way to the management office, Mark and Lin Wei discussed what they had learned. The entity was clearly powerful and intelligent, capable of manipulating both physical reality and human perception. But it also seemed to be bound to the building in some way, unable or unwilling to leave.
"The connection to apartment 3301 is significant," Mark said thoughtfully. "Most spirits are attached to places where they died or experienced significant trauma. If the entity is focused on that specific apartment, something important must have happened there."
"And the child's voice," Lin Wei added. "If Mei-Mei is a real child, if she's not a spirit, then where is she? And who is the woman whose voice we heard?"
They spent the next several hours in the building management office, poring over years of records under the harsh fluorescent lighting that cast stark shadows on the stacks of documents spread across the large conference table. The room smelled of old paper, toner from the photocopier that had been running constantly, and the faint lingering scent of coffee from the mug Chen had left there that morning. The building's documentation was meticulous—detailed resident lists in pristine binders, maintenance reports with color-coded tabs, incident logs with timestamps down to the minute, and hours of security camera footage that had been archived with the precision of a military operation. As they worked, cross-referencing dates and comparing notes, a disturbing pattern began to emerge that made the air in the room feel heavier with each new revelation.
Apartment 3301 had a history of unusual occurrences that stretched back several years. Three different families had lived there over the past five years, and each had experienced problems that couldn't be easily explained or resolved through conventional means. The first family, the Liu family, had moved out after only six months, leaving behind most of their belongings and their forwarding address, claiming that the apartment was "haunted" by sounds that made it impossible for them to sleep. The second family, the Zhang family, had experienced a series of unexplained illnesses—mysterious headaches, nosebleeds, and flu-like symptoms that seemed to worsen the longer they stayed—followed by a series of accidents that ranged from minor cuts to a broken arm before they finally broke their lease and left under cover of darkness.
The Wang family, who had lived there most recently, had seemed perfectly normal and stable at first, but maintenance records showed a steady escalation of complaints over the past three months—reports of strange noises that sounded like children crying in the night, unusual temperature fluctuations that couldn't be explained by the building's sophisticated climate control system, and electrical problems that caused lights to flicker and appliances to malfunction in ways that defied the maintenance team's expertise.
"This is more than mere coincidence," Mark said, pointing to the maintenance logs with a pen whose ink had begun to fade from hours of note-taking. "Every family that lived in that apartment experienced increasingly severe problems over time. And look at this—the complaints started about three months ago, right around the time the crying began, but they weren't the first. The pattern extends back years, getting worse with each family that lived there."
Lin Wei nodded, her expression grim as she compared dates on multiple documents, her fingers leaving slight oil stains on the paper from handling so many files. "And each family reported hearing a child crying, though the building management dismissed those complaints as imagination, building noise, or the normal sounds of an old building settling. The security team even checked multiple times, but found nothing."
They also found something else—something that sent a chill down Mark's spine and made the fluorescent lights seem to flicker in the oppressive silence that followed. Building security camera footage from the hallway outside apartment 3301, when analyzed frame by frame, showed that while several families had moved in and out of the apartment over the years according to the official records, there was one resident who was documented as having lived there continuously for the past two years—a single mother named Liu Yue, who was registered as living there with her six-year-old daughter, Mei-Mei.
According to the building records, Liu Yue had moved into apartment 3301 two years ago after finalizing her divorce, and had been listed as the primary leaseholder with no indication of any change in her status. Her lease was current, her rent payments were up to date, and maintenance logs showed that she rarely requested building services, preferring to keep to herself and avoid contact with her neighbors—a privacy that others had respected in the exclusive building.
But the security footage revealed something deeply disturbing that contradicted the paper records. While Liu Yue could be seen clearly entering and leaving the apartment regularly for the first year she lived there, wearing the same distinctive red coat in many of the recordings, camera footage from the past six months showed no signs of either Liu Yue or her daughter. The apartment appeared to be empty, its windows dark for hours at a time, though the building's records still listed Liu Yue as the current resident and continued to process her rent payments automatically.
"That's why the Wang family experienced such severe problems right from the start," Mark realized, his voice hollow with understanding. "They were living in an apartment that was technically still occupied by Liu Yue and her daughter, even though she hadn't been seen entering or leaving for months. The supernatural activity wasn't starting fresh with each new family—it was building, accumulating, growing stronger with each family that lived there."
"But where are they?" Lin Wei asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared at the security footage on the computer screen. "Where is Liu Yue and her daughter, Mei-Mei? If she hasn't moved out, if she's not coming and going, where could they possibly be?"
They continued searching through the records with increasing urgency, their earlier methodical approach giving way to frantic page-turning and rapid scrolling as they looked for any clues about what had happened to Liu Yue and her daughter. Building access logs, which tracked every use of keycards in and out of the building, showed that Liu Yue's card hadn't been used in exactly six months and twelve days, down to the minute and second. Her parking space in the underground garage had been empty for just as long according to the automated monitoring system. There were no records of her calling the front desk, no requests for packages, no communication with building management of any kind, and no forwarding address despite the clear discrepancy between the security footage and the lease records.
"This doesn't make sense from any angle," Chen said, his brow furrowed with confusion as he pushed his glasses up his nose for the dozenth time. "If she moved out voluntarily, she would have had to go through the proper channels, pay any applicable fees, turn in her keys, and provide a forwarding address. There's no record of any of that happening. If she'd simply stopped paying rent, we would have started eviction proceedings. But the rent payments have been coming through automatically from her account, right up until this month when they suddenly stopped."
"Unless she didn't move out voluntarily," Mark suggested grimly, the words hanging in the air like a curse. "Unless something happened to her and Mei-Mei, something that prevented her from following normal procedures or communicating with anyone."
The possibility hung in the air between them like a shroud, dark and frightening. If Liu Yue and her daughter had disappeared under suspicious circumstances, then the child's crying they'd heard in the apartment wasn't a supernatural phenomenon at all—it was potentially a cry for help from a real child who might still be in danger, trapped somewhere in the building or worse. The implications were so horrifying that the management office suddenly felt like a prison, with the walls seeming to close in as they realized they might be dealing with a kidnapper or worse hiding in plain sight among the luxury of Jade Dragon Tower.
"We need to get back into that apartment," Mark said, his voice firm with resolve. "If Mei-Mei is still in there, if she's hurt or in danger, we need to find her."
"But we can't just break in," Chen protested. "That's illegal. We'd need a warrant."
"I know someone who can help," Mark said, pulling out his phone. He dialed a number from memory—a contact he hadn't used in years but who might be able to cut through the bureaucratic red tape.
Detective Wang Jun was a former police officer who now worked as a private investigator specializing in missing persons cases. Mark had helped him on a supernatural case years ago, and Wang owed him a favor.
"Wang Jun," Mark said when the call was answered. "It's Mark Li. I need your help with a case."
They explained the situation—the haunted apartment building, the child's crying, the missing mother and daughter. Wang listened patiently, his occasional grunts suggesting that he was taking notes.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes," Wang said when they finished. "Don't do anything stupid before I arrive. And Mark, if this is what I think it is, be careful. Cases involving children are always the most dangerous."
True to his word, Wang Jun arrived exactly thirty minutes later. He was a man in his late forties, with a weathered face and tired eyes that suggested he had seen too much of the world's darkness. But his movements were quick and efficient, his mind sharp and analytical.
"Show me everything," he said, after the briefest of greetings.
They led him to the building management office, where they showed him the records they had found—resident lists, maintenance logs, security footage. Wang studied each document carefully, his expression growing more grim with each piece of evidence.
"Six months," he said, pointing to the last known sighting of Liu Yue. "That's a long time for a mother and child to disappear without anyone noticing."
"The building is very private," Chen explained. "Residents keep to themselves. It's possible that no one realized they were missing."
"Possible," Wang agreed, "but unlikely. Someone should have noticed—a neighbor, a teacher, a family friend. The fact that no one reported them missing suggests something more sinister."
Wang pulled out his phone and made several calls, using his police connections to run background checks on Liu Yue and her ex-husband. The information he gathered painted a disturbing picture.
Liu Yue had divorced her husband, Chen Hao, two years ago after a contentious custody battle over their daughter, Mei-Mei. Chen Hao had a history of domestic violence, though Liu Yue had been unable to prove it in court. The custody battle had been brutal, with Chen Hao making numerous threats against Liu Yue.
"Chen Hao has a record," Wang explained, showing them the police report. "Domestic violence, assault, harassment. Liu Yue had a restraining order against him, but it expired a year ago."
"And he hasn't been seen either?" Mark asked.
"According to his employer, he quit his job six months ago," Wang confirmed. "Sold his apartment, liquidated his assets. He's essentially vanished as well."
The implications were terrifying. If Chen Hao had somehow managed to get revenge against Liu Yue, if he had harmed her and their daughter...
"We need to get into that apartment," Wang said firmly. "Now."
They returned to the thirty-third floor, this time with Wang Jun leading the way. As a former police officer, he had the authority to bypass normal procedures in cases involving potential child endangerment.
"I'll handle this," Wang said, pulling out a set of lockpicks. "You two stand back. If there's anything dangerous in there, I want to be able to react quickly."
The lock on apartment 3301 was sophisticated, but Wang made short work of it. The door swung open to reveal an apartment that was simultaneously luxurious and disturbing. The furniture was expensive and tasteful, but there was an atmosphere of neglect and darkness that suggested something terrible had happened here.
The air in the apartment was thick and heavy, charged with the same energy they had detected earlier. But now that they knew what they were looking for, they could see other signs—furniture that was slightly out of place, scuff marks on the floor, areas where the carpet appeared to have been recently cleaned.
Wang moved through the apartment systematically, his trained eyes noting every detail. Mark and Lin Wei followed behind, their equipment detecting the residual energy of whatever had occurred here.
"Look at this," Wang said, pointing to a section of the living room wall. There were faint marks there, as if furniture had been moved recently. And the carpet in that area was discolored, as if something had spilled there and been hastily cleaned up.
Mark knelt down, examining the carpet more closely. Using a small UV light from his investigation kit, he could see faint stains that were invisible to the naked eye—stains that looked suspiciously like blood.
"There was violence here," Mark said softly. "Recent violence."
They continued their search, moving deeper into the apartment. The master bedroom showed similar signs—furniture out of place, areas that had been cleaned recently, a faint metallic smell that seemed to linger despite the building's air purification system.
But it was in the walk-in closet that they found the most damning evidence. The back wall of the closet had been recently repainted, but not well. Underneath the fresh paint, Mark could see slight irregularities, areas where the wall appeared to have been patched.
"Stand back," Wang said, pulling out a small toolkit. He carefully tapped on the wall, listening to the sound it made. "There's something behind here."
Using a small drywall saw, Wang carefully cut into the wall, creating a small opening. As he peered inside, his face went pale.
"Mark," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need to see this."
Mark approached the opening, his heart pounding with anticipation. What he saw inside made his blood run cold.
Behind the wall was a small space that had been created by removing part of the wall between the closet and the adjacent apartment. The space was crude but functional, clearly designed to hide something—or someone.
And in the center of that space was a large, industrial-grade freezer, the kind used in restaurants and commercial kitchens. It was plugged into a heavy-duty extension cord that ran through a hole in the wall, connected to the electrical system of the apartment next door.
"Oh God," Lin Wei whispered, her hand covering her mouth in horror. "Please, no."
Wang Jun's face was grim as he reached for the freezer door, his expression showing the weight of years of experience in confronting humanity's darkest impulses. "Whatever is in there," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might somehow make the truth less bearable. "we need to be prepared. This isn't going to be good. Nothing good ever comes from hiding things behind false walls."
The freezer door was heavy, constructed of thick insulation designed to maintain sub-zero temperatures for commercial use. As Wang pulled it open with careful, deliberate movements, a blast of frigid air escaped like the breath of death itself, carrying with it the unmistakable, cloying smell of decomposition that hit them like a physical blow. The stench was overwhelming, a mixture of decay and cold that seemed to freeze in their nostrils and cling to their clothing.
Inside the freezer, wrapped in industrial-grade plastic bags and secured with thick gray duct tape that had yellowed with age, were two bodies—a woman and a small child. The plastic had done its job of preservation, but couldn't mask the horror of what lay within. Even in death, the positioning of the bodies suggested a final, desperate attempt to protect—the woman's arms wrapped around the smaller form as if trying to shield the child even in the afterlife.
The scene was horrific, the kind of thing that haunted even the most experienced investigators and left indelible marks on the soul. The woman's body, what could be seen through the plastic, showed signs of prolonged abuse—dark bruising in various stages of healing, bones that showed evidence of breaks that had been set poorly or not at all, injuries that had healed at different times, creating a patchwork of trauma that suggested a pattern of violence extended over months or even years. Her clothing, what remained of it, was stained and torn, evidence of a life lived in constant fear.
The child's body was smaller, more fragile, barely filling a single large plastic bag. There were no obvious signs of physical trauma visible through the wrapping, but the very circumstances of her death—being sealed in a freezer, hidden behind a wall like discarded garbage—suggested something far more deliberate and calculating than a moment of passion. This was cold-blooded murder, planned and executed with methodical precision.
Mark felt his stomach clench as the reality of what they'd discovered settled over him like a shroud. Beside him, Lin Wei had gone completely pale, her hand moving unconsciously to her mouth as she tried to process the horror before them. Even Wang Jun, a man who had seen the worst humanity could offer, showed a momentary crack in his professional composure.
Wang Jun immediately called for backup, his voice somehow remaining steady despite the horror of the scene that would haunt his dreams for months to come. "This is Detective Wang Jun," he said into his phone, his words formal and professional despite the tremor in his hands. "I need the forensic team, crime scene unit, child services, and a counselor on standby. This is a double homicide investigation, and it's going to be one of the biggest cases this department has seen in years."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, confirming what they all already knew: they had uncovered one of the most heinous crimes imaginable, where a father had murdered his own family and hidden them like secrets in the walls of their home. The building that had seemed so elegant and pristine now felt like a tomb, holding the remains of innocence and love that had been destroyed by rage and control.
As they waited for the police to arrive, Mark and Lin Wei stood in stunned silence, trying to process what they had discovered. The child's crying they had heard, the supernatural disturbances that had terrified the residents—it wasn't a haunting at all.
It was a cry for help from a murdered child, whose spirit had been trapped in the apartment with her mother's killer.
"This explains everything," Mark said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of horror and sorrow. "The child's spirit wasn't just crying—she was trying to tell us what happened. She was trying to lead us to her body."
"The woman's voice we heard," Lin Wei realized, her eyes wide with understanding. "That wasn't the mother. That was the killer—the father, Chen Hao. He must have killed them both, then hidden their bodies here. But the child's spirit remained, trying to communicate what had happened."
The pieces fell into place with horrifying clarity. Chen Hao had somehow gained access to the apartment, probably by forcing his way in or using his knowledge of Liu Yue's routines. He had murdered both his ex-wife and his daughter, then hidden their bodies in the makeshift freezer behind the wall.
But the child's spirit had remained bound to the apartment, her cries for help eventually becoming noticeable to other residents. As more people became aware of the supernatural disturbances, the father's spirit—or perhaps just his malevolent energy—had grown stronger, attempting to silence the child's voice and maintain the cover-up.
The police arrived in force, led by Detective Wang Jun's former partner, Detective Li Mei. The forensic team worked quickly and professionally, documenting the scene and removing the bodies. Child services was called in to provide counseling for the building's residents, especially any children who might have been affected by the case.
As the investigation proceeded, Mark and Lin Wei provided their statements, explaining how they had been called in to investigate what appeared to be a haunting, only to discover evidence of a double homicide.
"This is one of the most disturbing cases I've ever worked," Detective Li said, her face pale after examining the crime scene. "The cruelty, the calculation... it's almost beyond comprehension."
"But the child's spirit," Lin Wei said softly. "She wasn't trying to haunt anyone. She was trying to get help. She wanted us to find her."
Detective Li nodded slowly. "In a way, her persistence saved other lives. If Chen Hao had gotten away with this, who knows what he might have done next."
The investigation continued late into the night. Mark and Lin Wei stayed until the early hours of the morning, providing assistance and support where they could. They helped calm the building's residents, explained the situation in terms that wouldn't cause additional panic, and provided emotional support to those who had been most affected by the disturbances.
As dawn broke over Dragon Pearl City, Mark and Lin Wei finally left Jade Dragon Tower, exhausted but satisfied that they had helped bring a murderer to justice and provided some measure of closure for the victims.
"You know," Lin Wei said as they walked to their car, "this case was different from the others. There was no supernatural monster to defeat, no ancient curse to break. It was just human evil—plain and simple."
"But there was something supernatural about it," Mark countered. "The child's spirit, her persistence in trying to communicate, the way her cries eventually drew attention to the crime... that was supernatural. It shows that even in death, even in the most tragic circumstances, the human spirit can still fight for justice."
They drove home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The case had been both horrifying and inspiring—a reminder that the most terrifying monsters often wore human faces, but also that even the smallest victims could have the strongest voices.
As they entered their apartment, Mark's phone rang. The sound seemed jarring after the emotional intensity of the case, the electronic chime cutting through their exhausted but relieved silence. It was Detective Wang Jun with an update.
"Chen Hao has been arrested," Wang said, his voice heavy with the weight of the case and the exhaustion of a long night's work. "He was hiding in a run-down motel across town, living off cash and sleeping in different rooms to avoid detection. He confessed to everything—saying he'd argued with Liu Yue about visitation rights, lost control during a violent outburst, and accidentally killed their daughter during the struggle. He panicked afterward, hid the bodies in the makeshift freezer, and tried to create the haunting to drive other residents away and cover his tracks."
"The haunting wasn't real," Mark realized, understanding washing over him like cold water. "It was all an elaborate lie, an attempt at the perfect cover-up."
"Not entirely," Wang corrected, his tone suggesting there was more complexity to the case. "Chen Hao admitted that he would return to the apartment at night, making strange noises and playing recordings of a child crying to create the illusion of a haunting. But he also said that after the first week, he started hearing the real crying—Mei-Mei's spirit, trying to communicate what had happened. He claimed he could distinguish between the artificial sounds he created and the genuine supernatural crying that began appearing on its own."
Mark felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the morning air. "So the supernatural element was real after all. The child's spirit was genuinely trying to communicate."
"Yes," Wang confirmed, his voice taking on the weary tone of someone who had seen too much darkness. "Chen Hao said the child's spirit grew stronger over time, eventually becoming so persistent that he couldn't ignore it. That's when he escalated his efforts to create a convincing haunting, hoping that fear would drive other residents away and eventually force the building to be evacuated so he could dispose of the evidence."
"He was trying to silence her even in death," Lin Wei said, her voice filled with a mixture of horror and righteous anger that made her hands clench into fists. "Using her own pain and cries to cover up what he'd done to her.""But he failed," Mark said firmly, his voice carrying the conviction of someone who had seen justice prevail. "Mei-Mei's persistence, her refusal to be silenced even after death, is what ultimately led us to the truth. In the end, her voice was stronger than his lies, more persistent than his attempts to bury the truth."
As they ended the call, Mark and Lin Wei stood together in the quiet of their apartment, the first pale light of dawn filtering through the windows and casting long shadows across the floor. The room was filled with the soft sounds of the city waking up—distant traffic, the occasional call of early birds, and the gentle hum of their electronic equipment. The case had been dark and disturbing, but it had also shown them something important—that even in the face of unspeakable evil, the human spirit could endure, could fight, could ultimately triumph.
"You both did good work today," Mark said softly, taking Lin Wei's hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, a anchor in the wake of such horror. "Mei-Mei's voice was heard because you were brave enough to listen, to take her cries seriously when others might have dismissed them."
Lin Wei smiled, though her eyes were filled with tears that caught the morning light and reflected it like tiny prisms. "Mei-Mei did the real work. She never gave up, never stopped trying to be heard even when her voice was mixed with her killer's deception. I hope she's at peace now, finally free from the fear and pain that followed her even beyond death."
"I think she is," Mark said, his voice gentle as a summer breeze. "I think she finally got the justice she deserved. And I think she knows that someone listened, that someone cared enough to find out the truth and ensure her killer was brought to justice. Her voice mattered, even from beyond the grave."
They stood together in comfortable silence, watching the sun continue its journey across the sky and paint the city in shades of gold and amber. The morning light seemed particularly bright after the darkness they had faced, and the warmth of it on their faces was a gentle reminder that the world continued turning despite the evil that sometimes dwelled within it. The case of Jade Dragon Tower was over, the mystery solved, the killer arrested. But the memory of a little girl's cries in the night would stay with them forever—a reminder that sometimes the most important work they did wasn't fighting monsters or battling ancient curses, but simply listening to those who couldn't speak for themselves.
In the world of supernatural investigation, they faced countless dangers and challenges. But cases like this reminded them why they did what they did—why they risked their lives to help others, why they faced the darkness and horror so that others could find the light and peace. Every case had a human face, a story of suffering that needed to be heard and justice that needed to be served.
The teacher and his student, the warrior and his partner, two souls united in purpose and love. Together, they would continue their work, facing whatever mysteries awaited them in the shadows between worlds, always listening for the voices that needed to be heard, always ready to help those who couldn't help themselves. Their bond, strengthened by consciousness merging and shared experiences, would continue to grow as they faced new challenges and mysteries.
And in the quiet of the morning, as the city began to wake up to a new day filled with ordinary concerns and daily routines that seemed impossibly distant from the horror they had uncovered, they knew that somewhere, a little girl named Mei-Mei was finally at peace. Her voice no longer cried in the night, lost and afraid, but sang with the angels in whatever realm awaited those who had suffered innocently. The injustice that had trapped her spirit was resolved, and she was free to find the comfort and love that had been denied to her in life.
They had done more than solve a case—they had given a murdered child the justice she deserved and the peace she had been seeking. And in doing so, they had reminded themselves why their work mattered, why they continued to risk everything to face the darkness: because somewhere, someone's voice was crying out for help, and they would be there to listen.