Aiya Hospital was a private maternity hospital located in the southeast corner of Taoyuan City, a prime spot according to feng shui principles. Normally, such a location shouldn’t attract so many malicious spirits, yet the place was often haunted. The main reason was that too many people came here for abortions, and the resentment of the stillborn babies was too strong to suppress.
As a result, Shen Koudan had to come regularly to cleanse the place. Fortunately, while there were many of them, these spirits were relatively easy to handle—unformed little souls filled with resentment over never being born, far less troublesome than the varied ghosts found in ordinary hospitals.
These past few days, the hospital had been closed for renovations. At 1 AM, aside from two security guards at the entrance, the entire hospital was pitch black, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
The night dragged on, and the two security guards passed the time with idle chatter.
Xiao Wang asked, “Hey, did you read today’s newspaper? Another person jumped off a building.”
Old Ding was startled. “No way! That makes it the seventh one this month.”
“And I heard it was the same as before—plastic bag over the head, brain matter all bagged up, bones and body shattered into powder, the head smashed like a watermelon, but barely any blood spilled. Most people stiffen up when they die, but these guys were all limp, like dough, with their bodies turning into something like a water-filled sack.”
“Plastic bag? That’s one eco-friendly way to go. At least the brain matter didn’t splatter everywhere.”
“Ugh, stop grossing me out. This case is really weird. Taoyuan Oddities published an article suggesting it might be the work of ghosts. I think there’s some truth to that.”
“Is that another one of Pinky Floater’s stories? I’m telling you, don’t listen to her nonsense. It’s just to boost magazine sales. Every time there’s a case, she claims it’s the work of ghosts, makes it sound all mystical, but once the case is solved and the culprit caught, she has nothing left to say.”
“But this time, she included a photo. Take a look—doesn’t she look familiar?” Xiao Wang handed him a magazine with a cover featuring a girl taking a selfie in front of a mirror.
“…”
“Well? What do you think?”
“She does look familiar. Isn’t that the girl who came to our hospital a month ago, the one being supported by a man?”
“Exactly! I knew I wasn’t mistaken. You even pointed her out to me at the time, saying how pretty she was. She looked no older than a high schooler. You wondered if she was here for an abortion. She was wearing a super short red dress, wobbling as the man helped her walk, and when the wind blew, she didn’t even try to hold it down. I even saw her underwear. So when I saw the red dress in the photo, I immediately remembered.”
“What does that have to do with the jumpers? Was she one of their girlfriends?”
“No idea. The magazine just said that, according to insider information, the men who died were of different ages, backgrounds, and professions, and they didn’t know each other. But they all had one thing in common: they had added this girl on QQ and had apparently chatted with her before they died.”
“Then it must have been this girl who caused their deaths. Maybe, like in TV dramas, they jumped to prove their love. Sigh, women are trouble.”
“But the girl is already dead!”
“What?”
“Apparently, her abortion didn’t go well. She was found dead at home just a few days later, covered in blood.”
“Such a shame. So pretty, and she didn’t take care of herself. Why? What a waste. Young people these days…”
“I heard her QQ account is still online, and even the police can’t trace the IP address. I bet she died wrongfully, and those men who hurt her—she turned into a ghost and took revenge by making them commit suicide. Otherwise, who would want to die for no reason?”
“Maybe someone else is keeping her account logged in. Even if it’s about revenge, it’s probably her friends helping her out. Don’t be so quick to blame everything on ghosts. You’ve been reading Taoyuan Oddities too much.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. There are no ghosts in this world. If there were, wouldn’t hospitals be the most haunted places? We’ve been guarding this place for years. Have you ever seen a single ghost? It’s just people committing crimes and trying to blame it on ghosts to avoid punishment.”
No sooner had Old Ding finished speaking than a strange red light flashed from a second-floor window, followed by the sound of something falling and glass shattering.
Xiao Wang nearly jumped out of his skin, gripping Old Ding’s arm tightly.
“Bro! Weird things have been happening in this hospital recently. It’s under renovation, but could it really be haunted?”
Old Ding stood up. “I didn’t see anyone go in. It’s probably a thief. Stay here while I check it out.”
Holding a flashlight, Old Ding started his rounds upstairs. The hospital, which looked bright and clean during the day, took on a much more sinister and frightening appearance at night. Even with his usual bravado, a thin layer of sweat formed on his palms as he walked.
Slowly approaching the room where the strange noise had come from, he realized it was the second-floor restroom. He listened carefully and could still hear faint noises inside, indicating that someone was there. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the door open and raised his flashlight.
“Who’s in there?”
A hunched-over woman shielded her face from the bright light and looked up from the sink.
“Night Granny, you’re still here? And without turning on the lights?” Old Ding flipped the bathroom light on, and that’s when he noticed the huge mirror above the sink was covered in cracks. The cracks were dense, neat, and strangely symmetrical, like a spider web radiating from a central point. The glass had fractured but hadn’t fallen off the wall. The mirror reflected hundreds of overlapping images of the woman, which made Old Ding feel dizzy and unsettled.
Night Granny waved her hand dismissively, her voice hoarse. “I’m getting old, not as sharp as I used to be. I must’ve fainted here while cleaning this afternoon and just woke up.”
Old Ding’s suspicions eased. “What happened to the mirror? Did you bump into it? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
“I’m fine, just a bit of back pain. I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow. For now, I’ll stay in the rest area and sleep.”
“Alright then. I’ll head back downstairs. Call me if you need anything.” Old Ding didn’t ask any more questions. Night Granny had worked as a cleaner here for over twenty years—she knew the place better than he did.
As soon as Old Ding left, the woman pretending to be Night Granny bent down and grabbed the neck of a ghostly woman who had died from a difficult childbirth, now lying at her feet. Ignoring her struggles, she stuffed the translucent figure into a small bag.
Trying to kill me? How foolish. With the bigger ones taken care of, the smaller ones will be easy.
Shen Koudan touched her face, relieved that she had disguised herself as usual. This made ghost hunting much easier, allowing her to come and go freely without needing to sneak around. Especially when dealing with powerful spirits, things could get noisy, and the cleanup would be a real hassle.
If it were a private residence being haunted, it wouldn’t be so bad—people might even pay her to exorcise the spirits. But in places prone to supernatural occurrences, like prisons, hospitals, or accident sites, the government didn’t believe in this sort of thing. Even if they did, they couldn’t openly invite someone to perform rituals—promoting superstition like that would be out of the question.
But just because no one hired them didn’t mean they could ignore the problem. They had no choice but to handle it secretly, thankless work as it was.
For some reason, Taoyuan City was particularly heavy with yin energy. In other places, people generally reincarnated after death, but here, they often turned into vengeful spirits, unable to pass on. The Shen family had been demon hunters and protectors of the Dao for generations, and a few hundred years ago, they had no choice but to settle here.
The peach trees planted across the city formed an array meant to suppress the spirits, yet after so many years, they still couldn’t keep them at bay. In the past, the Shen family had many members, but now, only Shen Mo and Shen Koudan remained.
Meanwhile, Taoyuan City’s population kept growing, and with it, the number of murders and vengeful deaths, leading to more and more ghosts. The two of them were constantly busy, barely able to keep up.
Shen Mo had to teach during the day and assist the police with investigations in his spare time, leaving him with little time. As the next heir to the Shen family, Koudan naturally became a professional ghost hunter, running around every day. Paid jobs were enjoyable, but coming to the hospital to work for free was something she could never get used to.
Koudan pulled out a transparent plastic baby bottle from her bag. It contained a strange mixture of milk and talisman ash, giving it an eerie color. This was real milk, not powdered formula—she’d gone through a lot of trouble to get it.
Holding the bottle up to the air, she soon attracted the souls of the unborn babies floating nearby, their spirits eagerly slipping into the bottle. This was what she called “waiting by the tree for the rabbits to come” a task easily accomplished.
As she walked around, collecting souls and yawning ungracefully, Koudan couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer number of babies. People these days were really asking for trouble.
Suddenly, a wave of malevolent energy hit her, making her chest feel tight and her lungs constrict as if the air itself was pressing down on her. She felt an overwhelming urge to vomit.
It seemed there was another powerful spirit lurking nearby…
Koudan quickly made her way to the morgue, where a faint light was visible from inside. She cautiously peered through the door crack and saw a man dressed in black, completely absorbed in his work over the body of a newborn baby on the table. It wasn’t clear if he was dissecting it or doing something else. His pale, slender hands moved rapidly, wielding various knives, needles, and pens with graceful precision. His fingers danced like they were performing some kind of divine ritual, elegant yet commanding, making it hard for Koudan to look away.
What was even more astonishing was that the most powerful ghost in the entire hospital was being forcefully pressed back into its original body by this man. With expert skill, he used needle and thread to seal off the openings through which the soul had escaped, closing the body’s five orifices and locking the spirit back into the flesh.
“Who are you?” Koudan asked in a raspy, cold voice. The man hesitated before slowly turning around.
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