Chapter 998: Chapter 700: The Bell Tolling for One’s Life_2
"Old man, when you were tidying up the house, did you see anything unusual? Something like... a bell?" Dou Jie braced himself to ask, gesturing with his hand, "You know... like those hanging wind chimes?"
The old man’s expression grew subtle after hearing this, but he said nothing. Instead, he stood up, dragging his heavy steps toward a door in the right corner of the wall, pushed it halfway open, and walked inside. Before fully entering, he made sure to shut the door behind him.
Dou Jie widened his eyes in terror. At the moment the door opened, a faint red glow spilled out of the room—gloomy, eerie, reminiscent of a funeral hall. That room... that room was supposed to be the old man’s bedroom.
After the old man entered, silence fell behind the door. This scared Dou Jie out of his wits, as he realized he had likely encountered a ghost.
He grabbed his bag and tiptoed toward the iron door to leave. Trembling, he used his hand to slide away the chain locking the door, careful not to make a sound. But apart from the chain, there were still two other locks—complicated and difficult to open.
"Hurry up! Hurry up!!"
Dou Jie was frantic. The more frantic he became, the more mistakes he made. His hands shook, and suddenly the chain slipped and fell, striking the doorknob with a "thud." In that instant, Dou Jie’s heart froze as he clearly heard noise coming from the previously silent bedroom.
The next second, the bedroom door swung open. The old man’s grotesque face appeared under the crimson glow—pale as a corpse, resembling a ghost resurrected from the dead.
"Are you trying to leave?" The old man stepped out, casually shutting the bedroom door behind him. At the same time, a bell appeared in his hand.
Dou Jie recognized it instantly—it was the exact same bell they’d found in the haunted house. No... it was identical to that one.
"I did find bells back then, quite a few, actually," the old man said flatly. "But I threw them all away—kept only this one." He showed the bell to Dou Jie, but had no intention of handing it to him.
However, Dou Jie had already sensed there was something very wrong with the old man. He couldn’t risk staying any longer. Finding an excuse, he attempted to leave. Without waiting for the old man’s permission, he forcefully opened the door, only to discover, inexplicably, that the old man’s final lock refused to budge.
Standing with his back to the old man, Dou Jie grew increasingly panicked. He could feel it—the old man was slowly closing the distance between them.
"You’re not a real estate agent. Who are you, really?" The old man pressed closer step by step, his twisted face looking even more terrifying in the dim light.
"I... I..."
"No real estate agent dares take my property. They’re all afraid of trouble. Anyone would know that—you can’t be from around here." The old man now stood right in front of Dou Jie. Though shorter in stature, his presence was utterly oppressive.
Dou Jie trembled violently, on the verge of suffocation. "I... I’m not a real estate agent. I’m a horror novelist. I heard about the haunted house story and came for field research. I... I need inspiration."
In his extreme nervousness, Dou Jie grasped at straws, fabricating a lie—his expression painfully earnest.
The old man slowly sighed as though he believed the story. His gaze toward Dou Jie was a complex mixture of emotions. "You went to that house, didn’t you?"
"Yes... yes, that’s right. This picture frame—and... and this bell—they were both found there." All lies, of course, but a little truth among the lies might be enough to deceive the old man.
Seeing no signs the old man intended to lash out and kill him, Dou Jie began to regain a shred of composure. After all, the old man didn’t seem to be one of those "things."
"Old man, you... what is this about?"
The old man stared at him coldly before turning and walking toward the bedroom. Seeing that the iron door wouldn’t open and realizing he couldn’t escape, Dou Jie reluctantly followed the old man inside. As the door to the bedroom opened once more, Dou Jie took in the sight within.
The bedroom was small, furnished with merely a wooden bed. In the corner against the wall stood a half-human-tall statue of Guan Yin. Beneath the statue was a black-and-white photo—the portrait of a kindly-looking elderly woman. The table beneath the photo held a censer and a few dishes of offerings—simple, ordinary fruits.
Dou Jie instantly understood: the person depicted in the photo was the old man’s wife. But keeping a deceased wife’s portrait in the bedroom as if sharing the space with the living—this was a first for him.
"Young man, you’ve stirred up big trouble!" The old man sighed heavily, his expression chilling to the bone.
"Years ago, my wife and I cleaned out that house. Bells hung throughout the place—everywhere. We found it peculiar but didn’t think too much of it. While tidying, we worked separately. My wife cleared out the bedroom and came to me halfway through, asking if I’d heard the sound of bells."
"I said no, because those bells were all sealed. They couldn’t make a sound. But she insisted she’d heard them."
"She was scared and wanted to leave. I... I convinced her to stay. Night was falling, and I couldn’t finish the work alone. We needed to clear it all before dusk, otherwise we’d have to return the next day."
"Out of concern for me, she agreed. Night fell, and finally, we were done. I borrowed a small truck from a friend—the kind with a large container at the back—and loaded up the cleared-out items to return home."
"On the drive, my wife kept turning to look at the space behind the driver’s seat. I asked her what she was looking at. Frowning, she gave me that strange look and asked the same question—if I’d heard the bells."
"She repeated it again and again. It scared me—I hadn’t heard a thing. And I’d thrown away every single bell. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled the truck to the roadside, switched on the headlights, grabbed my flashlight, and climbed into the container at the back. I opened the boxes one by one to check. She stood behind the truck, still muttering. She said she heard bells—closer this time."
"I shouted at her to stop. But then—then the disaster struck. A car rear-ended us."
"I was thrown out from the impact. When I came to, I was in the hospital. My face was ruined. One eye was blind. But... my life was spared."
"A policeman stayed beside me and told me... told me my wife had been crushed between the two vehicles. She died on the spot—her body was... shattered."
"The driver of the other car survived but was badly injured. He lost one arm. I’ve met him since... he kept crying he was innocent."
