NHWSG chapter 12

At 3:30 in the morning, Sheng Zhao’s flight landed on time at Shanghai Changning International Airport.

He rubbed his throbbing temples, took his small suitcase from the luggage rack, and followed the crowd to exit.

This flight had relatively few passengers, and the front and back rows of Sheng Zhao’s seat were not fully occupied. Only a middle-aged man with a hunched back sat diagonally across from him. Throughout the journey, he moved his head bit by bit, appearing half-awake, until the plane finally landed. He slowly stood up, retrieving his bag from the luggage rack with sluggish movements.

Sheng Zhao, following a step behind, subconsciously bent down to help him pick up the fallen belongings.

Simultaneously grabbing the bag strap, Sheng Zhao accidentally brushed against the man. The man’s hand felt icy and stiff, with a slightly bluish tint under the dim airport lights. Surprised by the cold touch, Sheng Zhao withdrew his hand and apologized.

The man shook his head slowly in response, assuring him it was fine.

As the man lifted the bag, Sheng Zhao noticed a long, thin something sliding into the back of the man’s neck along the collar. Startled by his own imagination, he shook his head. Feeling a cold breeze at the nape of his neck, he rubbed the goosebumps on his arms, criticizing Xing Yingzhu in his mind several times.

—suddenly scared remembering the ghost and monster stories, Sheng Zhao thought, this guy has really gotten me.

In the middle of the night, most of the airport had entered “standby” mode. Sheng Zhao’s flight was the last one of the day, and when he walked out of the airport, only the corridor leading to the terminal was still illuminated. Rolling his suitcase, he moved forward steadily. Passing by a glass wall, he took a few extra glances outside.

Shanghai Changning International Airport was newly built two years ago, located in the Changning district. Surrounding it were undeveloped hills, and most of the area was still under construction. Sheng Zhao exited the airport gate and took about five minutes to find the pre-booked airport transfer.

The driver was a middle-aged man in his fifties, with a good service attitude. Despite being late at night, he showed no signs of complaint when he came to pick up Sheng Zhao. He even helped Sheng Zhao load his luggage into the trunk.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Sheng Zhao sneakily opened the ride-hailing app when getting into the car and sent the driver a twenty-yuan tip.

Since becoming a regular at Xing Yingzhu’s place, although the salary might not be high, the expenses were minimal. Aside from not having to worry about rent, even meals were occasionally taken care of by Xiong Xiangsong and Xing Yingzhu. After a few months, he found himself saving a bit more than others.

A notification sound from the phone on the dashboard caught the driver’s attention. Glancing at it, he chuckled and said, “Young man, you’re too polite.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Sheng Zhao replied, surprised that the tip was credited in real-time. He forced a smile and added, “It’s late, thank you for the trouble.”

The unexpected twenty-yuan tip instantly brought the driver and Sheng Zhao closer in a one-sided friendship, and the impression of Sheng Zhao in the driver’s mind elevated to “this young man is quite nice.”

“Late at night, what brings a young man like you to Shanghai?” The taxi driver, being chatty, asked casually, “Why not take an earlier flight?”

“Couldn’t find an earlier ticket,” Sheng Zhao, not wanting to engage in a deep conversation with a stranger, replied, “Here for a business trip.”

“Must be tough,” the taxi driver sighed.

The ripple effect of the extra tip was still apparent. The driver adjusted the turn signal, observing the road while glancing at the rearview mirror. He continued, “But when working, one should take care of their health. Burning the midnight oil for business trips is not good for your well-being. Bosses care more about profits than their employees’ health.”

The taxi driver spoke in the local Shanghai dialect, sounding gentle. Sheng Zhao let the words go in one ear and out the other, with an image of Xing Yingzhu’s face involuntarily popping up in his mind, making him feel inexplicably guilty.

“Well, my boss is alright,” Sheng Zhao attempted to explain, “Not like those others—wait, Sir, where are you going?”

In the midst of the conversation, the car had already turned away from the airport, preparing to merge onto the highway. Sheng Zhao found the route unfamiliar and couldn’t help but ask.

“Isn’t your destination in Yangpu District?” The driver pointed to the navigation screen on his phone, saying, “We’ll pass through Changning District, then take Xincheng Avenue straight to the city center. No worries, there won’t be traffic at this hour.”

Changning District had just begun development, with no other facilities around besides the airport. The scenery outside the car window was desolate and unfamiliar, in stark contrast to Sheng Zhao’s memory of the bustling city center.

He suddenly recalled Xing Yingzhu’s “advice,” and looking outside again, he felt strangely uneasy.

“I don’t want to go through Changning District,” Sheng Zhao said, “Sir, take a detour.”

The driver didn’t seem surprised by this request, just offering a piece of advice, “We’ll have to take the outer ring elevated road, so it’ll be a detour.”

“No problem,” Sheng Zhao said, “I’ll pay extra.”

The driver was waiting for him to say that. Upon hearing it, he skillfully adjusted the steering wheel, turning right at the next intersection.

“Didn’t expect that, young man,” the driver chuckled, “Even young people believe in such things.”

Sheng Zhao had just spoken casually, not expecting there was indeed a local “belief” in this development area.

He wanted to ask what was going on but feared being too obvious and that the driver wouldn’t respond. After a brief thought, he casually waved his hand and said, “It’s nothing, just a family’s advice. A little detour won’t cost much, better than going back and getting nagged.”

“Well, old folks do care about these things,” the driver laughed, saying, “But in my opinion, all those feudal superstitions are just rumors. This Changning District is a large construction site, and accidents are normal at night with no lights. Back in our day, society—”

As the driver went on, Sheng Zhao realized the conversation was veering off, and he quickly redirected the topic.

“What does that have to do with superstitions?” Sheng Zhao asked, “It’s just a few missing people. Nothing to do with feudal superstitions.”

“There wasn’t a problem originally, but coincidentally, just before the missing persons cases, they dug up an underground river at a construction site in the north of Changning District,” the driver, acting as a modern information hub due to his profession, seemed well-informed and continued confidently, “They were building a mall, just started a few days ago, and then they found an underground river. The construction is now on hold.”

Sheng Zhao furrowed his brow.

Shanghai is near the estuary, but he had never heard of an underground river in Shanghai.

“With an underground river, won’t the foundation be unstable?” Sheng Zhao asked.

“That’s what I’m saying. So, the construction is temporarily halted, and they need to consult urban planning experts to figure out what to do.” The driver said, “Fortunately, they only dug a small opening. As soon as they saw it was empty down there, they dared not continue.”

The driver seemed to enjoy talking, and as he got more excited, he forgot his previous “rumors.” He continued, “I heard that when they dug it up, the excavator brought up a rusty chain. The chain was covered in a layer of reddish-brown mud, emitting a strong, bloody smell that could be smelled from a distance. Many workers saw it. But the strange thing was, as soon as the chain was brought up, it disintegrated when exposed to the air.”

“Disintegrated?” Sheng Zhao asked in surprise.

“Yes, it turned into ashes,” the driver said, “Many people saw it at the time, so it spread like wildfire. The old folks in Shanghai are superstitious, saying they dug up a guardian beast of the city. Now, everyone avoids this area.”

Sheng Zhao probably understood the background of this incident. He fell silent, refraining from asking more questions.

Holding his phone, he unlocked and locked it repeatedly before finally opening Xing Yingzhu’s contact window.

Ignoring the urban myths and ghost stories, Xing Yingzhu must have heard about this incident, which was why he advised Sheng Zhao to avoid this area.