The Hand of Confession – Chapter 96

Volume 4: Days of Making Mischief at School

Third Floor

Blood droplets splattered across the third-floor window

Heavy dark clouds pressed down, turning the whole world grey. The wind blew the willow branches along the road all in one direction, giving them a “Sha Ma Te” [shā mǎ tè, a Chinese punk/emo hairstyle popular in the 2000s] look.

The stairwell was pitch black, with the motion sensor lights flickering on with a crackling sound, emitting their last gasps.

Footsteps of two people echoed in the narrow corridor, making Shen Maomao inexplicably nervous.

Mother Shen pulled open the front door – this time, no black umbrella fell out from behind it.

The apartment was very dim, so dark you could barely see your hand in front of your face, with only the weak motion sensor light from the corridor illuminating the doorway.

She reached out to turn on the light while Shen Maomao bent down to untie her shoelaces.

With a “pa—” sound, the living room light came on, dispelling all darkness and clearly revealing Father Shen on the sofa.

Shen Maomao’s heart jumped, and she instantly grabbed onto Mother Shen’s leg.

No wonder the umbrella hadn’t appeared – it was in Father Shen’s hands, propped against his shoulder.

Mother Shen’s face darkened as she patted her head: “Don’t be afraid, Maomao. Papa has been fixed now.”

Shen Maomao calmed down slightly but still didn’t dare stray far from Mother Shen, following behind her like a little shadow.

Mother Shen didn’t mind her being underfoot, taking her along to cook in the kitchen, where both mother and daughter became covered in the smell of cooking smoke.

It was a dinner as silent as breakfast had been.

The two of them ate with relish under the watchful gaze of Father Shen’s bloodshot eyes.

After dinner, Shen Maomao did her homework for a while, then changed into her pajamas at Mother Shen’s urging, getting ready for bed.

Before she could return to her room, Mother Shen called out to her: “Maomao, how about giving Papa and Mama a goodnight kiss?”

Shen Maomao froze mid-step, turning her neck inch by inch, meeting the gaze of Father Shen, who had somehow turned his head around.

Father Shen’s corpse grinned, revealing triangular teeth identical to those of the strange man from the previous night.

Mother Shen stood beside him, wearing an expectant expression.

Shen Maomao’s heart raced as she swallowed hard, moistening her dry throat before speaking: “No, I only want to give Mama a goodnight kiss. I haven’t forgiven Papa yet!” After speaking, she refused to look at the man on the sofa, staring directly at Mother Shen instead.

Having become the daughter’s most cherished person, far surpassing Papa, how could Mother Shen refuse?

So she crouched in front of Shen Maomao, waiting for her daughter’s goodnight kiss.

Shen Maomao steeled herself before leaning in slightly, leaving a slightly damp mark on her face with a “mua” sound.

Mother Shen gently pushed her away: “Go to sleep now.”

Shen Maomao felt like a pardoned prisoner, immediately locking her door once inside her room.

Ever since Mother Shen had “awakened” , she had grown increasingly cold. If Maomao hadn’t pulled away quickly just now, her lips might have frozen solid.

She leaned against the door, her right hand unconsciously touching her lips, finding them warm to the touch without any hint of coldness.

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It was getting late. Shen Maomao looked out the window – most of the nearby buildings had gone dark, with only one or two apartments still lit.

In this era, the internet wasn’t yet widespread, and computers were all bulky CRT [Cathode Ray Tube] desktops, used by very few people. Mobile phones were in production, but they were only the old-style ones with green screens, without any entertainment apps.

People’s daily entertainment consisted mainly of watching television or reading newspapers, with some elderly men listening to traditional opera on their radios.

In this entertainment-scarce era, people were used to going to bed and waking up early. Usually at this hour, Shen Maomao would be sleeping like a log, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood.

Lou Jingmo was going to explore the school tonight – would she encounter danger? Would she be scared alone? Would there be enough time?

The more she thought about it, the more she wished she could grow wings and fly to her side to help.

But living on the top floor meant the window wasn’t an option, and Mother Shen wouldn’t let her daughter go out alone through the front door so late at night.

Shen Maomao stared blankly out the window, contemplating the possibility of sliding down using bedsheets.

She had never gone rock climbing or learned professional knot-tying techniques. Recklessly climbing out the window could result in her falling to her death from the top floor.

Wasting a life that way would be too embarrassing. If Lou Jingmo asked how she died, and she had to say she was trying to climb down the window to find her… she would definitely die of shame…

Thinking this through, Shen Maomao immediately ruled out this method.

She got out of bed gently and carefully opened her door, cautiously peering outside.

A sliver of light penetrated the darkness, and through the door crack, Shen Maomao found herself staring into a pair of hateful eyes just inches away.

In that instant, Shen Maomao was nearly scared to death. Fortunately, her brain registered the danger before she could react, and she reflexively slammed her bedroom door shut with a loud “bang.”

Mother Shen’s sleepy voice immediately came from the master bedroom: “What’s wrong, Maomao? Had a nightmare?”

Shen Maomao leaned against the door and shouted: “Mama! I want water, but Papa is blocking the door and won’t let me out!”

Footsteps came from outside, accompanied by heart-pounding knocking, followed by Mother Shen’s somewhat reassuring voice: “Maomao, come out and look, Papa hasn’t moved at all.”

Shen Maomao tentatively opened the door. Warm yellow light streamed in, and Mother Shen stood in the doorway holding a glass of water, smiling at her.

Meanwhile, Father Shen sat on the sofa maintaining his original position, as if he had never moved at all.

Shen Maomao didn’t believe that for a second [literal: believed his ghost].

Mother Shen handed her the glass: “Here, drink some water. If you’re scared, you can sleep with Mama.”

How could she sneak out if they slept together?

Shen Maomao took a couple of token sips, then declined: “No, I’m a big girl now. I can’t sleep with Mama anymore.”

Mother Shen smiled and patted her head: “Alright then, Maomao can sleep by herself. If you get scared, just call out for Mama. I’ll come running to protect you, no matter where I am.”

Shen Maomao felt touched and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, nuzzling her small face against the cold neck: “I understand, Mama.”

Mother Shen returned to her room with the water glass. The living room light went out, and Father Shen creakily twisted his neck around, grinning at her with bared teeth.

Shen Maomao expressionlessly closed her door.

Clearly, going through the door wasn’t an option.

But she was still very worried about Lou Jingmo, and wanted to personally participate in finding the way out…

She looked at her curtains and the bedsheets, testing her arm strength, and after gritting her teeth, decided to take the risk.

Once the decision was made, there was no point in hesitating further. Though this body was her smaller version with less strength, she still retained the necessary skills – this was her baseline for daring to attempt this.

She took out her pencil sharpening knife and began her long, tedious work.

The durable curtain fabric was torn into strips, which she then braided together, securing each connection point with multiple tight knots.

After all preparations were complete, she tied the rope to the bedpost and pulled it with all her might to test its security.

Then she gently opened the window, immediately getting hit in the face by the cold wind.

Shen Maomao silently put on an extra jacket.

Finally, she wrapped the other end of the rope around her waist and began climbing down through the window.

Of course, she wasn’t jumping straight from the top floor to the first floor. The building had a long drainage pipe on its wall, less than thirty centimeters from her window, with small protruding joints in between that she could easily step on while hugging the pipe to descend…

Perhaps with the help of some hidden game programming, her initial descent went very smoothly, making it down to the fourth floor.

A strong gust of wind howled past like a man-eating beast, seemingly determined to blow her off. The rope around Shen Maomao’s waist swayed continuously, slapping against the stairs with “pa pa pa” sounds. She clung to the pipe like a gecko, stopping beside the third-floor window, temporarily afraid to move.

The third-floor apartment still had its lights on, making everything inside easily visible from the outside.

Shen Maomao stared at a spot inside, her mind conjuring eighteen different ways she might fall to her death.

As she thought about this, she suddenly noticed a small crimson mark appearing before her eyes…

With one foot on the third-floor windowsill and one hand against the wall, she rubbed her eyes with her free hand and looked carefully through the window…

She wasn’t seeing things – the third-floor window was splattered with blood droplets, like carelessly blooming red flowers…

Inside was a woman, holding an umbrella in one hand and a sharp knife in the other, repeatedly stabbing a man. Blood sprayed onto the electric light, casting an eerie red halo that looked particularly dreamlike.

A child’s sharp crying reached Shen Maomao’s ears. The repeatedly stabbed man still had a trace of strength left and ran toward the window. Blood sprayed across the glass, instantly blocking Shen Maomao’s view.

The scene was so gruesome that Shen Maomao nearly fell from the building.

Two shadowy figures moved behind the red-stained glass. The man’s anguished and terrified screams, the child’s crying, and the howling wind outside combined into a frenzied symphony, deafening to the ears.

Within moments, the man’s voice grew extremely weak until finally falling silent. What followed was a little boy’s pleading voice—

“Mama, I was wrong…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Mama, don’t kill me…”

“Mama!”

“Mama, I’m sorry…”

Each word was painfully heart-wrenching.

But even this couldn’t stop the mother from raising her sharp knife. With a swift, clean motion, something round tumbled down from the shadow of the little boy’s neck and rolled twice on the floor.

Shen Maomao thought she could even hear the sound of that head rolling.

The little boy could never speak again.

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The author has something to say:

Sorry, I wanted to save this as a draft but accidentally hit publish. I’m so clumsy.

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