HP - Chapter 16

Typhoon Night Murder Files 11

Darkness shrouded the entire island; not a single gleam of light broke through the sky. In the distance, a heavy gale brooded while the waves surged violently.

Zhong Xu emerged from the kitchen with several others, while Mu Xingchao pushed open the bathroom door. On every face lingered an expression of uneasy doubt.

“Xu Hangquan and Xu Hangjia still haven’t come downstairs?” Mu Xingchao swept his gaze across the people in the living room, his expression growing increasingly grave.

“Let’s go check outside.” Zhong Xu twisted the door lock.

The moment the door swung open, wind and rain poured in together, lashing against her face.

The flashlight beam cut through the dark, and the courtyard—once pitch black—shed its suffocating shadows, turning into a hazy gray. The outlines of the courtyard walls came faintly into view, along with distant trees swaying precariously in the storm.

“The sound seems to be…” Ji Zhou followed closely behind Zhong Xu, but when she suddenly halted, his voice broke off at once.

A sense of foreboding flashed through everyone’s mind as they quickened their pace. When the sight before them became clear, they froze in place as though struck by lightning.

The camphor tree in the yard had collapsed under the force of the typhoon, its broken trunk splintered into sharp, jagged edges.

Xu Hangjia’s body was impaled upon the trunk, her face pressed downward into the ground.

Blood soaked into the grass beneath her. Her fingers, caked with mud, lay motionless as she remained there in chilling silence.

“Xu Hangjia!” Everyone rushed forward in panic.

But the howling wind and pounding rain were far too loud—they could not tell if she was still breathing.

Zhou Zhi withdrew the hand he had pressed to her neck. His voice was edged with coldness: “No pulse.”

Their minds went blank. Then Mu Xingchao’s anxious voice pierced the storm: “Where is Xu Hangquan?”

Without waiting for an answer, he bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. The others, belatedly shaken into awareness, hurried after him.

Yet neither Xu Hangquan’s room nor Xu Hangjia’s room showed any sign of Xu Hangquan.

Zhong Xu came last, standing quietly in a corner near the staircase, her gaze taking in the expressions on every face.

Mu Xingchao was already striding quickly down the corridor and up the stairs to the next floor. “Could he be on the third floor?”

A window in the third-floor corridor had been pushed open to a narrow crack. The wind poured through, carrying a chill that sank deep into their bones.

“Xu Hangquan?”

“Xu Hangquan?”

Their calls went unanswered. When the door to the audiovisual room was pushed open, only a dark red glow spilled out from within.

Cui Shuying, standing at the back, asked blankly, “Has the power come back?”

“No… it must be something else.”

As they stepped inside, several people screamed in unison.

The four walls of the room glowed with a dark, blood-red light, as if smeared with gore. On closer inspection, they saw strips of lights strung across the walls.

In that oppressive “blood-lit” atmosphere, paper money was strewn across the floor, funeral wreaths dangled from the projection screen, and two figures in mourning clothes hung crookedly from the ceiling—tilted and swaying, grotesque and bizarre, at once absurd and horrifying.

On this storm-tossed, powerless night, even a scene that was clearly staged as a prank became chilling, sinister—like some dreadful specter might burst forth at any moment.

“Xu Hangquan?”

Liang Qing was the first to notice that someone seemed to be sitting on the sofa.

When he stepped closer for a clearer look, he recoiled in shock, stumbling back several steps and nearly losing his footing.

His reaction sent a ripple of dread through the others; each face showed the same shaken fear, none daring to move forward.

“Th-that… is that Luo Fang?” Liang Qing’s voice trembled.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Luo Fang… why would Luo Fang be here?”

Absurd as it sounded, everyone knew Liang Qing had no reason to lie—and he certainly wouldn’t joke under circumstances like these.

Summoning their courage, they edged toward the sofa together.

There, a man sat slumped, his head tilted back against the cushions. When the flashlight beam swept across his swollen face, the sight was ghastly. Xu Shuangyuan nearly dropped the flashlight from his hand.

Terrified screams burst out once more, echoing through the audiovisual room and shattering the last of their psychological defenses.

It was indeed Luo Fang.

“Why would Luo Fang be here?”

“Did… did he come up here on his own?”

“There are no ghosts in this world!” Mu Xingchao’s voice cut cold and sharp. “Where is Xu Hangquan?”

They soon found him. Xu Hangquan lay in a pool of blood near the window. Shards of glass were scattered all around, and smeared across them were clear, bloodstained fingerprints.

“What on earth is happening here?”

Boundless fear coiled through the air, making everyone long to escape the darkness, flee the island, and return to the crowded, bustling city.

“I want—I want to leave this place! I don’t want to stay here another second!” Cui Shuying cried, her voice breaking as she took a step back, ready to bolt.

Zhou Zhi quickly stopped her, speaking with as much composure as he could muster. “Calm down. Outside it’s pouring rain, the wind is howling, and it’s already so late—where could we even go?”

“There are ghosts!” Cui Shuying was beyond reason now; no words of comfort could reach her. “It must be ghosts! It must be ghosts!”

“It absolutely isn’t ghosts. This stage is a reasoning game, not a supernatural horror.” Zhong Xu’s gaze swept steadily across everyone, her voice cold and firm. “Someone is playing tricks, nothing more.”

Perhaps it was her unnervingly calm demeanor, but the terror gnawing at their hearts slowly began to ebb away.

“Gouzi, check if that’s a video camera,” Zhong Xu ordered, patting Ji Zhou’s arm with practiced ease.

Following her direction, Ji Zhou went over and indeed found a video camera, its indicator light faintly glowing.

It was recording.

Too frightened to remain in the audiovisual room, the group retreated to the first floor.

They placed the camera on the table. The footage began at 23:50, showing the silent audiovisual room steeped in dreadful atmosphere.

“This is a timed recording,” Mu Xingchao observed. “About when did the Xu siblings head upstairs?”

“Around thirty-something past,” Xu Shuangyuan replied. “I checked the time after they went up.”

Mu Xingchao adjusted the playback to 00:30.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door to the audiovisual room opened on-screen, and two figures entered—Xu Hangquan and Xu Hangjia.

They, too, appeared stunned by the sight before them, instinctively turning to leave.

But just then, as though driven by a sudden gust of wind, the door slammed shut.

The siblings realized something was terribly wrong. They tugged frantically at the handle, but no matter how hard they pulled, the door refused to budge.

Xu Hangjia shook violently with fear, while Xu Hangquan held her tightly and led her deeper inside.

Soon, they noticed Luo Fang on the sofa. Even Xu Hangquan’s composure faltered, while Xu Hangjia all but collapsed, her terror so raw it seemed to seep through the screen and pierce directly into the hearts of those watching.

As they sank into boundless, despairing dread, Xu Hangjia suddenly spotted a hazy silhouette standing ahead. On instinct, she snatched up a nearby trash can and hurled it with all her strength.

Only as it flew did she realize—the figure was nothing but a reflection in the glass, the image of the dummy hanging from the ceiling. By then, it was already too late.

A massive pane of glass, as if triggered by some hidden mechanism, came crashing down toward them. At the critical moment, Xu Hangquan shoved his sister out of the way and collapsed into a pool of blood.

Xu Hangjia wailed in despair, frantically pushing the shards off her brother’s body and pressing hard against the blood gushing from his wounds.

What happened next was something everyone could easily imagine.

The audiovisual room door wouldn’t budge. Xu Hangquan was gravely injured, bleeding out, and desperately in need of medical care. Faced with this dire situation, Xu Hangjia made a choice.

She climbed onto the window ledge, intending to jump from the third floor.

From such a height, survival was likely—death was not certain.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was that the typhoon had already toppled the camphor tree in the courtyard. Its jagged trunk would ultimately pierce through her body.

By the time the recording ended, cold sweat drenched everyone’s backs.

“This recording has no sound,” Ji Zhou rasped after a long silence, his voice hoarse. “The murderer must have lured them into the audiovisual room. Afraid their words might give them away, they deliberately made sure the audio wasn’t recorded.”

Tears streaking her face, Cui Shuying asked, “But how did Luo Fang even end up on the third floor?”

Xu Shuangyuan muttered under his breath, “Isn’t it obvious? Each of us has a suitcase. Empty it out, and you could carry a body upstairs.”

“And there’s another key point…” Ji Zhou reminded them. “Why couldn’t Xu Hangquan and Xu Hangjia open the door in the recording? When we went there, it opened easily.”

All the questions tangled together into a knot no one could unravel. Fear still hung heavy over them, and no one had the will—or the clarity—to break through the puzzle and seek the truth.

Everyone feared for their own life.

In the long silence, Zhong Xu and Zhou Zhi’s eyes met quietly.

Though no words were spoken, the meaning in their gazes was unmistakable.

Zhong Xu rose to her feet. Immediately, Cui Shuying tensed and asked nervously where she was going.

“To get a blanket upstairs. I’m cold too—I’ll bring one back for you.”

Cui Shuying hesitated. “Then… I’ll come with you…”

“Stay here. I’ll take him with me.” Zhong Xu casually grabbed Ji Zhou’s arm.

Ji Zhou blinked, caught off guard. “You want me to come with you?”

Zhong Xu gave a vague grunt of assent. “Mm. Ex-boyfriend, let’s go.”

“Wait—I’m coming too.” Zhou Zhi rose quickly, speaking with composure. “Three people will be safer.”

…

Inside Zhong Xu’s room, Ji Zhou asked cautiously, “Why did we come to your room?”

Zhou Zhi smiled faintly. “Looks like you’ve chosen to trust him.”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not even you.” Zhong Xu’s reply was cold, merciless. “I chose him because he’s not exactly quick on the uptake.”

Ji Zhou muttered, “…Couldn’t you wait until I wasn’t around to badmouth me?”

But even he understood, dim-witted or not, why the three of them had gathered here. “So—did you find an important clue? And hey, my judgment really is as sharp as ever. Look at that—our little team’s formed, hasn’t it?”

Neither of the others acknowledged him.

Zhou Zhi pulled out the disc labeled Typhoon Night. He had once used it to press Xu Hangquan for information, but the others had never seen what it contained.

“Seems we’ve reached the same conclusion. The disc revealed a clue—Xu Hangquan loved playing pranks, and he recorded every one of them.”

“And the way the killer staged the Xu siblings’ deaths—recording the whole scene—that aligns far too neatly with Xu Hangquan’s own preferences. It was intentional… mockery… resentment.”

Ji Zhou looked bewildered. “What are you talking about? What does that mean?”

Zhou Zhi and Zhong Xu exchanged a glance, each seeing ripples stir in the other’s eyes.

“The killer’s motive was never to avenge Jiang Zhi.”

1. 香樟树 (xiāng zhāng shù) - Camphor tree; A common evergreen tree in southern China, often planted in gardens and along streets. 

2. 頸動脈 (jǐng dòng mài) - Carotid artery; A specific medical term. 

3. 紙錢 (zhǐ qián) - Joss paper/Spirit money; Paper offerings burned in Chinese funerary practices to provide for the deceased in the afterlife. 

4. 花圈 (huā quān) - Funeral wreath; A circular floral arrangement used in China for mourning and placed at funerals or on graves. 

5. 喪服 (sāng fú) - Mourning clothes; Traditional white garments worn to signify bereavement in Chinese culture. 

6. 前男友 (qián nán yǒu) - Ex-boyfriend

7. 小分隊 (xiǎo fēn duì) - Little team/squad; A term often used in games, adventures, or lighthearted contexts. 

8. 光盤 (guāng pán) - Optical disc (e.g., CD, DVD); A physical data storage medium. 

9. 惡作劇 (è zuò jù) - Prank/Mischief

Characters (Players)

• 终栩 (Zhōng Xǔ)

  • Role: Protagonist 

  • Game Role: Later assumes the identity of 宋慕思 (Sòng Mùsī), the idealistic guesthouse owner with a hidden agenda tied to her friend’s death.

• 季舟 (Jì Zhōu)

  • Role: Self-proclaimed "萌新" (newbie)

• 老玩家 (Lǎo Wánjiā, Veteran Player)

  • Role: Experienced survivor

• 瘦弱男人 (Shòuruò Nánrén, Thin Man)

  • Role: Terrified newbie

• 眼镜男 (Yǎnjìng Nán, Glasses Man)

  • Role: Silent observer

~~~~~~

• 宋慕思 (Sòng Mùsī) – The protagonist; a quiet, introspective young woman who organized the friends' gathering and owns the 民宿 (guesthouse). Hides complicated past relationships.

• 江栀 (Jiāng Zhī) – Outgoing and sociable; Song Musi’s close friend (闺蜜) but also entangled in a love triangle involving Sang Long. [Been Dead Prior]

• 崔书颖 (Cuī Shūyǐng) – Another extroverted friend in the trio; makes Song Musi feel like a third wheel at times.

• 桑隆 (Sāng Lóng) – Jiang Zhi’s current boyfriend and Song Musi’s ex; their past relationship is a hidden source of tension.

• 骆方 (Luò Fāng) – A timid, cowardly classmate whom Song Musi dislikes. Later revealed to have a peanut allergy. [Dead]

• 徐杭泉 (Xú Hángquán) & 徐杭佳 (Xú Hángjiā) – Self-centered siblings; both are classmates disliked by Song Musi. [Dead]

• 周至 (Zhōu Zhì) – A smooth-talking, socially adept classmate (possibly a surgeon); Song Musi finds him insincere.

• 梁青 (Liáng Qīng) – An insecure and overly sensitive classmate; another person Song Musi dislikes.

• 牧星朝 (Mù Xīngcháo) – A hypocritical rich kid (富二代) with a photography hobby; Xu Shuangyuan’s boyfriend.

• 许双园 (Xǔ Shuāngyuán) – Proud and arrogant; Mu Xingchao’s girlfriend, whom Song Musi resents.

• 林怀平 (Lín Huáipíng) – Jiang Zhi’s cousin who joins the group through her; displays incompetent arrogance, disliked by Song Musi. [Dead]

• 陈警官 (Captain Chen) – A recently acquainted police detective; annoys Song Musi by replying slowly to messages.

Sevyn here ~~~

Oof, Brutal