Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Hidden Entrance and the Past

“What the heck is this?” Jiang Wan gasped for breath, the fine beads of sweat on her forehead dampening her hair.

She stared at the scene before her: inside the wall, dense green moss crawled over ghastly white bones. The broken wall, pried open and set aside, formed a small mound in the distance. The vivid red of the concrete was almost excessive—who could tell if it was blood or paint?

She turned away, her eyes full of confusion and shock. “I was only gone for half an hour! How did you manage to stir up so much trouble in that time?!”

Chen Qing picked his nose with the utmost nonchalance. “What’s that got to do with me? This person’s been dead for years at least. Digging them out is practically an act of charity, you know?”

She pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing as she humored him. “Yes, yes, you’re always right.”

After more than half an hour had passed, more people began arriving in the building late at night. The company’s manager, the office property manager—even representatives from the construction firm that had worked here over a decade ago were summoned to the scene for questioning.

Chen Qing stood to one side, grinning as he listened through the glass wall of the conference room, collecting every scrap of information related to the disaster.

To be honest, that window shouldn’t transmit sound at all, but he’d pried open a little crack. None of the officials present seemed inclined to comment. Their eyes showed a hint of disdain, some looking down on him, but with Jiang Wan standing at his side, they thought better than to say anything aloud.

After questioning four or five people, the police had all but ruled out the company’s staff as suspects. There was no way to pin down the exact time of death for the skeleton, but it had clearly been at least three to five years—longer than the company itself had been in existence.

“Jiang Wan, this man you brought…” After the interrogation, two police officers in their late thirties approached her.

They hesitated, as though struggling with what to say.

“He’s not involved. This has nothing to do with him,” she replied firmly.

“But we want to know what he said!” a younger officer barked beside them.

His name was Qi Botao. He’d graduated the same year as Jiang Wan and joined the force at the same time, but unfortunately for him, Jiang Wan’s experience with difficult cases had seen her promoted far ahead of him. They were now worlds apart.

Ambition breeds bitterness, especially when someone who was once your equal becomes your superior.

“What does anything I say have to do with this case?” Chen Qing replied, grinning, unconcerned.

“How am I supposed to know if you’re involved if you don’t talk?” Qi Botao jabbed a finger at Chen Qing’s nose, his tone harsh. “You’d better cooperate! If you delay the investigation, it’ll be your responsibility!”

“Oh?” Chen Qing’s smile widened. “That’s unfortunate, because I just turned eighteen—wait, actually, my ID says I’m not quite there yet. Go ahead, I’m curious to see what responsibility you think I can bear.”

Before he could finish, Jiang Wan stepped in front of him, her expression severe. “What does your ability to solve this case have to do with the person who reported it? Are you that idle? The victim’s been dead for over three years! Do you really think he committed murder here three years ago just to report it himself now?”

“There’s a reason you didn’t get promoted. With skills like yours, maybe you should eat more walnuts for your brain.”

Qi Botao’s face twisted with resentment, but he dared not retort. Still, as he turned away, he muttered under his breath, “So what if it’s been three years? Does that mean he can’t be the killer? Forget reality for a second—there’s always a chance, isn’t there?!”

Chen Qing’s face grew grave, and he applauded. “Bravo. You’d do better as a blogger on a certain yellow site.”

Jiang Wan wanted to stop Chen Qing before he said anything more provocative, but he was a beat too quick.

“You said ‘forget reality’—in that case, there’s not even a one percent chance.” He smirked. “A concrete wall isolates oxygen and bacteria. A body encased in concrete decomposes, causing the cement to settle as the corpse collapses. From these two points, it’s clear: the body was already dead for some time before it was encased. It wasn’t dumped in while still alive, so whoever did this would have had to bring a large item on site, and after killing the person, they must have stored the body in some kind of cold storage for a long time—long enough for that kind of fungus to attach. So tell me: how many people working on a construction site have both access to cold storage and the ability to bring in large objects? Me? Show me a construction site that lets thirteen- or fourteen-year-old kids onto the premises.”

As his explanation faded, the crowd’s expressions shifted. Jiang Wan looked both proud and wryly amused, casting a mocking glance at Qi Botao.

“There’s a reason he’s with me. There’s also a reason you weren’t accepted into that department. Do you understand now?”

Qi Botao ground his teeth, still unwilling to let it go.

But Chen Qing delivered the final blow: “Everything I just said was covered in your training. Of course, for college students, not paying attention in class is par for the course.”

As he finished, Jiang Wan couldn’t help blushing. There’s a world of difference between study and practice, after all.

“Any more questions?” Chen Qing asked the cluster of officers nearby, his manner easy.

“If there are any, not many,” an older officer replied with a smile, clearly favoring Chen Qing and Jiang Wan. Seeing Jiang Wan’s nonchalant reaction, it was obvious they were friends.

Nodding, he stepped to Jiang Wan’s side, mulling over the conversation. Seeing him fall silent, the police resumed their discussion.

“If we follow his reasoning… it does make sense.”

“It does, but this floor is over three meters high. How did the workers get the body in there at the time?”

“True… Concrete for high-rise buildings is poured via pipes—this wall is three and a half meters, the concrete had to be piped in over a hundred meters. If it was a midnight disposal…”

“Impossible,” an older officer cut in. “The forms are sealed after the pour. They couldn’t have snuck a body in at night.”

As the officers muttered, Chen Qing tugged Jiang Wan away.

“By the way, why don’t the elevators in this building run at night?” Jiang Wan asked, curiosity in her gaze as she noticed his frown.

“No idea,” Chen Qing replied, shaking his head. “I wanted to complain about that myself… Over twenty floors, for goodness’ sake. If I weren’t in good shape, I’d be breathless. Kalans barely spoke ten words to me on the way up, my ribs nearly snapped from climbing.”

Jiang Wan looked surprised. “Could there be some… special reason?”

“The Backrooms?” Chen Qing met her eyes, hesitated, and shook his head. “No idea. Logically, if you could access the Backrooms from the elevator in this building, with thousands of people coming and going, accidental entries would be far too common.”

They chatted idly as they descended the stairwell, for there was nothing left for them upstairs. Ten-odd minutes later, they finally reached the building’s front entrance.

He gazed up at the building, muttering under his breath, “The road to heaven is the same as the road to hell; the places you can’t reach are often the realm of the living. The human world is treacherous, and there’s no turning back.”

Heaven and hell are the same. If the Backrooms are here, they can only be reached by elevator—but, as he’d said, that would make accidental entries far too likely.

“A place the elevator can’t reach… could that mean some special floor?” Jiang Wan frowned.

“No… definitely not,” he murmured. He’d checked: every floor had a corresponding elevator stop. That’s not the reason… then what?

“If we take it literally, it refers to a place the elevator can’t arrive at or depart from. But where is that?”

Chen Qing raised his hand, measuring the building before him.

“It’s a tall building,” he remarked. “The office towers built in our city in recent years just keep getting taller, don’t they?”

She nodded, a trace of regret in her voice. “Land is expensive. And now… this case happened so high up. Those who come in want to leave; outsiders are afraid to come. If the price drops even a little, someone manipulates it back up. It’s costly.”

Chen Qing listened. Her words were offhand, but they struck a chord.

“Yes… it’s expensive…” He frowned, pondering—the Backrooms pointed to a place they knew, but why? Why did they persist in exploring here until they finally gave up and turned elsewhere?

“Because ‘it’s expensive,’” he said, eyes lighting up as an idea struck. “Maybe I’m right… The rules for the next Backrooms are hidden here. If they entered without knowing the rules, only those with high enough rank could barely survive.”

He looked up again; the building’s windows gleamed in the moonlight.

“So what’s the problem?” he wondered aloud, feeling the answer was close.

Yes, the answer was right there, standing before him at the building’s entrance.

He closed his eyes, letting the words he’d heard earlier echo in his mind.

“This floor is over three meters high, the workers at the time…”

“This wall is three and a half meters, the concrete needs pipes a hundred meters long…”

He recalled every phrase, and suddenly, the key became clear.

“It’s the numbers—the numbers are the key.” Turning to Jiang Wan, he smiled. “I’ve found the entrance.”