The shrill cry of police sirens shattered the night as Detective Shen Chen's vehicle sped through the empty streets of Haicheng. The city was asleep, but inside the squad car, tension crackled like static electricity.
Seated in the passenger seat, Officer Li Hao's fingers danced anxiously over his tablet screen, scanning the latest reports. "Shen-ge, Liu Zhiqiang's wife, Wu Xue, confirmed the call came from her husband's number. She swears it was his voice."
Shen Chen kept his eyes locked on the road, his jaw tight. "Did she say anything else?"
Li Hao exhaled sharply. "Yeah. She said he told her to open the door."
A chill settled over them. Shen Chen didn't believe in ghosts, but the evidence was disturbing. A dead man making a phone call? The corpse was at the crime scene; it couldn't have moved.
Minutes later, they arrived at Liu Zhiqiang's apartment. The building loomed in the darkness, its windows like hollowed-out eyes. Wu Xue was waiting for them at the entrance, arms wrapped around herself, trembling.
"Detective Shen, you have to believe me!" she pleaded. "It was his voice! I know it was him!" Her face was pale, eyes swollen from crying. "He kept whispering… 'Wu Xue, open the door'—again and again!"
Shen Chen placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. First, let's check the call logs."
Wu Xue handed over her phone, and Li Hao immediately set to work. The last call was indeed from Liu Zhiqiang's number—timestamped just fifteen minutes ago. But when they traced the origin of the call…
Li Hao's breath hitched. "Shen-ge… the call came from inside this apartment."
Silence fell. Shen Chen's gaze snapped toward the door behind Wu Xue. "Did you check the apartment?"
Wu Xue shook her head, gripping her arms tighter. "I—I was too afraid…"
Shen Chen nodded to his team. "We're going in."
With guns drawn, the officers moved swiftly, clearing each room. The living room was undisturbed, the kitchen spotless. But when they reached the master bedroom, the air felt wrong—thick and suffocating.
A phone lay on the nightstand. Liu Zhiqiang's phone. The screen was still lit up, showing the recent outgoing call to Wu Xue.
"Impossible…" Li Hao whispered. "Who made the call?"
Before anyone could respond, a sound echoed through the room—tap… tap… tap…
A faint but deliberate knocking from inside the closet.
Everyone froze. Wu Xue gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth.
Shen Chen motioned for silence and stepped forward, gripping the closet handle. In one swift motion, he yanked the door open—
Inside, nestled between hanging clothes, was a single gray suit—the same one Liu Zhiqiang had been wearing when he was found dead.
A vibration jolted through Shen Chen's hand. His own phone was ringing. He glanced at the screen, and his blood ran cold.
Incoming call: Liu Zhiqiang.