Chapter Forty-Five: Nightmare

When Huang Yunlei was fourteen, she lost both her parents and was taken in by Huang Wenyang. At that time, Huang Wenyang hadn’t become the village chief yet; in fact, he was nowhere near that position.

In his youth, Huang Wenyang was considered the bane of the village—a troublemaker who formed gangs and stirred up mischief wherever he went. But back then, the times were different; resources were scarce, and even the worst behavior required restraint. No matter how depraved he was, he still had to work as everyone else did.

As the economy developed, though, his true nature emerged. Huang Yunlei was a distant relative, so far removed that they were essentially strangers. Huang Wenyang took her in, but from the very beginning, his intentions were anything but benevolent.

On her very first night in his house, he abused her. She was only fourteen.

But this was just the beginning of her nightmare. Huang Wenyang’s son, Huang Lehao, inherited his father's depravity and proved no better. After Huang Wenyang, he too preyed upon Huang Yunlei.

Huang Wenyang’s wife had died early, leaving Huang Yunlei alone in that household, subjected daily to the twisted desires of father and son—a torment that was nothing short of hell on earth.

Yet their cruelty didn’t end there. Huang Wenyang even devised a way to profit from her suffering, openly and secretly inviting men to his home under the guise of playing cards and mahjong. The true purpose was unspeakable.

Huang Yunlei became his tool for making money—if not something even less than a tool.

Hearing this, rage surged within me; my fists clenched, teeth ground together. I wanted nothing more than to beat those two mercilessly. How could they bring themselves to harm a fourteen-year-old girl? Have they no conscience?

Xiao Qingwan’s lips turned pale with anger as she exclaimed, "How could they do this? It’s beyond excessive—they’re worse than animals!"

"Everyone knows only beasts could commit such acts, yet he became village chief because of it," the middle-aged woman said.

She continued, explaining that when Huang Yunlei was sixteen, she became pregnant. Abortions weren’t common then, especially in the village where information was scarce. Huang Wenyang tried to force her to drink medicine to abort the child, but something went wrong. After three attempts, the pregnancy persisted, and the child was born.

Even after giving birth, Huang Wenyang didn’t let her go—instead, he grew even more brutal. Huang Lehao, meanwhile, became ever more notorious, gathering a group of disreputable friends who also targeted Huang Yunlei.

Those men, a den of snakes and rats, later helped Huang Wenyang secure the village chief position, as many who had "visited" his home voted for him. Once in power, his lawlessness only increased, plunging the village into chaos. But cowed by his and his son’s influence, no one dared speak out.

A lump formed in my throat. This was Huang Yunlei’s story—a nightmare in human form, a hell on earth. Had we not come, the tale might have faded away with time, leaving evil forever unpunished.

"How did she die?" I asked.

The middle-aged woman shook her head. "I don’t know, but it absolutely must be connected to Huang Wenyang and his son."

Xiao Qingwan’s indignation flared. "How can such people exist? Huang Yunlei was so pitiful—trapped with those madmen!"

The woman added, "I’ve told you everything I know. My own son was corrupted by that bastard Huang Lehao. He’s made mistakes, but in the end, it’s all because of those two. My son is innocent! Can you really avenge him?"

Her son had run with Huang Lehao’s crowd, and likely played a part in those crimes. But now he was dead—paying the price for what he’d done.

I glanced at Master Wei, then said, "The net of justice is vast and unyielding—everyone must answer for what they’ve done."

Leaving the woman’s home, my mood was heavy. Master Wei’s reprimand last night had been mild; those men deserved to have their legs broken, locked away for life so they could never harm anyone again.

Once outside the village, seated in the car, Xiao Qingwan asked, "Do you think Huang Yunlei’s vengeful spirit really returned for retribution?"

I shook my head. "I don’t know. Since Ma Lao sent us to investigate, it must be connected. We’ll ask him when we get back."

I turned to Master Wei. "Master, I’ll need your help afterward."

He remained silent. Xiao Qingwan wondered, "Shouldn’t we just call the police and have them arrested?"

"No rush. Let’s get to the bottom of this first. We still don’t know how Huang Yunlei died. Once we know, we’ll push for the death penalty," I replied.

By the time we returned to the village, it was already afternoon, but there was still a long while before the villagers would be back.

Passing the old, out-of-place house, I couldn’t help but sigh, recalling the inhuman treatment Huang Yunlei had endured for years.

Xiao Qingwan suggested, "Zeyu is such a pitiful child—let’s go see him."

I did not object, nor did Master Wei show any sign.

We walked to the doorway, which was half open. Xiao Qingwan knocked and called, "Zeyu! Zeyu! Are you home?"

The house was silent—no response at all. Her voice echoed faintly through the half-open door.

She waited a while, called again, but still nothing.

"The door’s open—he can’t have gone out," Xiao Qingwan mused.

"Let’s take a look," I said, pushing the door open.

The door creaked loudly, its age obvious. As it swung inward, the interior was cold and deserted, with discarded items piled in corners, adding a sense of bleakness. There was no sign of life, inside or out.

Xiao Qingwan sighed, "He lives here all alone—it’s heartbreaking."

Stepping inside, surrounded by the thick stench of death, even my breathing and heartbeat seemed to quiet. The air was laced with a strange odor—partly metallic, partly reminiscent of insects, an unsettling blend.

Xiao Qingwan, who had wanted to call out again, pinched her nose against the smell and fell silent.

The oppressive atmosphere made us move quietly as we headed toward the living room. The deeper we went, the more intense and complex the odor became; I too covered my nose, wondering how Zeyu could possibly endure living here.

The living room door was half open; I pushed it, and it groaned loudly, the whole place dilapidated. Inside, chaos reigned—dust everywhere, not a single decent piece of furniture. Not even a simple bench. It looked as though no one had used it in ages.

A sharp "meow" suddenly broke the silence, startling me with its piercing sound.