Chapter Twenty: The Black Handkerchief

This abandoned factory complex was primarily composed of three parts: the production workshop area, the warehouses, and the staff dormitory buildings. Passing through the main gate, one would enter the factory district, with three large warehouses situated behind it, and three dormitory blocks standing to the left of the workshop.

Vines had already begun to scale the walls of the workshop, while wild grass flourished everywhere. The open ground was littered with rusted machinery, left in careless disarray.

“Your friend vanished after entering here?” Bai Chuan walked ahead, stopping before the entrance to the workshop. The large door was so unstable that it seemed a mere touch would send it crashing to the ground.

“Yes. But this entire factory is vast—we’ll have to search it slowly.”

Inside, the workshop was shrouded in gloom. The lines of production machinery were abandoned and decayed; weeds grew through cracks in the floor, and cobwebs draped the equipment.

“Be careful,” came Tang Xiaoyu’s uneasy voice from within the felt hat. She had felt a growing discomfort ever since they set foot inside the complex. Yet sometimes, the timid have their own advantages—her foreboding was at least more accurate than any weather forecast.

“Mm.” Li Changqing reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the exorcism talisman. Its power was meager, but it was all he had for protection.

Bai Chuan stopped beside a machine, brows knitted in concern.

“What is it?” Li Changqing asked, nerves taut.

Bai Chuan glanced distastefully around the workshop. “It’s filthy and chaotic in here.”

Suddenly, his gaze sharpened, catching sight of a bloodstain on the ground not far away. He crouched to inspect it. “This isn’t recent—looks to be from twenty days to a month ago. Someone was seriously injured here, judging by the blood.”

This was the very spot where he himself had been bitten. Li Changqing stared at the stain, closing his eyes to recall the moment—a shadow had dropped suddenly from the ceiling.

“The roof.” Li Changqing pointed to the workshop’s shadowy rafters.

Bai Chuan looked up, his frown deepening. Suddenly—

With a crash, something hurtled toward Bai Chuan. He moved with the agility of a cat, dodging aside in an instant.

A choking cloud of dust rose as the thing hit the ground. Bai Chuan retreated, covering his nose with a handkerchief. As the dust settled, they saw it—a mummified corpse, its blood seemingly drained until its skin was shriveled like bark, exuding a nauseating stench.

Then, from the corpse’s throat, there came a guttural rasp.

Astonishingly, the dried corpse lurched to its feet, swaying unsteadily, dark lights flickering in its hollow eyes.

It moved with unexpected speed, lunging at Bai Chuan.

A short sword flashed in Bai Chuan’s hand, its hilt adorned with intricate, elegant designs, the blade a frosted blue inscribed with talismanic marks. With a deft twist, he dodged and drove the sword into the back of the corpse’s head.

The mummified figure collapsed with a heavy thud, its body quickly disintegrating to leave only a skeleton.

Bai Chuan’s voice rang out, louder than before: “Tricks like this don’t work on me.”

From the darkness, a figure began to emerge. Bai Chuan gripped his sword, wary, as the shadow stepped into the dim light—it was Kelly Losaidy, his face deathly pale.

His eyes were vacant as he drew closer. Li Changqing spoke up, “That’s my friend.”

Bai Chuan did not attack Kelly Losaidy.

When Kelly had reached them, he suddenly collapsed, unmoving. Li Changqing approached, but hesitated. “Is he dead? Or possessed?”

Bai Chuan crouched beside him, examining carefully. “You’re lucky—your friend is fine, just unconscious. He won’t wake for a while.”

His attention was caught by a black handkerchief clutched in Kelly’s hand.

“What’s this…” He picked it up, scrutinizing it with a somber expression.

“Detective, take your friend. We must leave at once.”

Trusting Bai Chuan’s judgment, Li Changqing helped carry Kelly Losaidy out of the factory and set him in the back seat of the car.

The door slammed shut.

“Mr. Bai, what happened?”

“We can’t continue investigating. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your safety. I have to report this to the bureau.”

“Because of that black handkerchief?”

Li Changqing looked at the cloth. Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary, though the material was fine.

Clearly, the handkerchief held a deeper significance, one that Bai Chuan was unwilling to explain.

Once in the car, Bai Chuan drove toward the detective agency. “You mustn’t speak of today’s events to anyone. Remember that. And don’t return to the factory—if you do, you’ll be in grave danger.”

“Mr. Bai, what is really inside that abandoned warehouse?”

What did the black handkerchief signify, to provoke such a drastic change in Bai Chuan?

“That’s not for you to know. Your friend is merely unconscious—he’ll wake soon, don’t worry.”

The car rolled to a stop outside the detective agency. After helping Li Changqing carry Kelly Losaidy upstairs, Bai Chuan hurriedly departed, his face betraying his anxiety.

“Hey! At least help me get him all the way inside!” Li Changqing called after the retreating car, then glanced at Kelly Losaidy, sprawled on the ground.

It took all his strength to drag Kelly upstairs, his own tailored suit torn in the process.

He let out a heavy breath, sitting on the sofa, his brow furrowed as he watched Kelly lying on the floor.

What exactly lurked in that strange, abandoned factory to cause such bizarre transformations?

A single black handkerchief had been enough to alter Bai Chuan’s demeanor utterly.

“What do you think that handkerchief means?” Li Changqing asked, pinching the felt hat.

Tang Xiaoyu emerged, her eyes full of worry. “I only felt an intense cold in there—it was deeply unsettling. It seems we can’t continue searching for Lin Zhixin’s wife. She’s been missing so long, I fear…”

“Yes.” Li Changqing rubbed his temples, nodding wearily.

Was the woman Kelly had investigated also rendered like this—rigid and unnatural? Or was he himself just an exception?

Why hadn’t whatever haunted that factory chosen to kill him, or to keep him there? Why had Kelly Losaidy also survived the night unscathed?

What was the reason?

As Li Changqing mulled this over—

Suddenly, Kelly Losaidy jerked upright, a touch of color returning to his pale face. He quickly patted himself down, exclaiming, “My God, my friend, where am I? Is this your detective office? I’m still alive—I’m not dead?”