My girlfriend is a Miao demon.

"What about Hua Miao? Why did you say at the airport that my father's death wasn't an accident? Why did you say he died because of Hua Miao's witchcraft?"

Zuo Hezi's voice trembled uncontrollably, rising slightly at the end, only to plummet again when it touched upon the deepest pain in her heart. Her fingertips gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, the cotton fabric wrinkled deeply, her knuckles turning white, as if only in this way could she support her crumbling emotions.

"What? You're saying that the one who killed Professor Zuo was Hua Miao's sorcerer, that it was witchcraft?"

Upon hearing Zuo Hezi's words, Xiang Nanfeng's mouth dropped open. Just as Abbot Mingyuan of Zhenru Temple had said, Zuo Sigong had tracked the Wolf-Faced Man to Zhenru Temple before his death. Shouldn't the Wolf-Faced Man have been the one who killed him? Could the Wolf-Faced Man be a witch doctor of the Hua Miao?

Mao Xigu Master's gaze swept over the two people in the room. He straightened up, gripping the armrest of the single sofa.

"Ms. Zuo, although this may be very cruel to you, could you tell us about the circumstances of Professor Zuo's passing?"

Zuo Hezi's fingertips were still trembling slightly, and even from a distance, the veins on her forehead could be seen throbbing. She stared intently at the wrought iron coffee table in front of Mao Xi Gu Master, as if trying to glimpse through the smooth glass surface what the laptop looked like when it was still sitting on it months ago.

"It's right here." Her voice was choked with suppressed sobs, each word seeming to be squeezed out from her throat. "I heard there was an open laptop here back then. It was my dad's computer. He had used it for four or five years, but he always took good care of it. My dad is a very careful person. But later, I saw that the bottom right corner of the computer was chipped."

"Did you break it?"

"It's just the surface; it was something my father bumped into before he died. The computer was supposed to turn on normally. But the screen was black. Later, I heard people in the room talking about how it shut down automatically because it ran out of power. When I arrived, there were quite a few people in the room, including police officers who were finishing up, people from Youdu University, and people from the real estate company and property management."

She paused, her Adam's apple bobbing as if trying to suppress the surging fear.

"Later they took me to the evidence department of the police station. I signed the papers and got the computer back. The police probably charged it, because it was already turned on when I got it. But... but after turning it on, there was nothing. There were no desktop icons, no folders, and even the backups on the system drive were completely gone. There was only one line of cold text on the screen—'Formatting complete.'"

At this point, Zuo Hezi stood up, her head held high as if she were trying to hold back tears, and paced back and forth. However, she didn't cry; instead, she pointed to the furniture and furnishings in the room and began to talk incessantly:

"The whole house... the whole house looked like it had been ransacked by bandits. The wardrobe doors were all open, and the drawers inside were all open. Half of the books on the bookshelf were upside down. Those books weren't my father's books, but old art books left by the previous tenant. The upside-down art books were scattered all over the floor, and even the invitations to various art exhibitions that were tucked inside had been pulled out and thrown all over the floor, making a mess. There should have been half a bag of rice in the kitchen. The rice was probably bought by my father. He loved to eat rice and liked to cook it himself wherever he went. Half a bag of rice was also scattered all over the floor. The rice bag was empty and lying on the ground."

"So, the half-bag of rice wasn't spilled by accident, but was deliberately poured out of the bag?"

"Yes." Zuo Hezi nodded. "It's obvious they're looking for something, haha, they even searched the rice sack. Upstairs, in the bedroom, all the bedding is thrown on the floor, even the mattress is overturned and leaning against the wall. There's not a single piece of clothing in the closet, all the clothes are thrown on the floor, and every pocket of every garment has been searched. Also, in the second-floor bathroom, the toilet is clogged. The drain is full of burnt paper ash. There's not a single piece of paper in the entire room, not even banknotes, they've all been burned."

"So the reason the police made such a large-scale operation is because the scene looked too much like... a home invasion robbery and murder?"

"At least... it's very strange. But later, the technicians examined the scene and determined that none of the doors and windows showed signs of forced entry. Furthermore, the CCTV footage at the alley entrance was very clear; no one came during the time my father died. And then there are the reports from the doctor and the forensic examiner..."

Zuo Hezi didn't say it aloud; she was supposed to say "death warrant," but she didn't. At that moment, she raised her right hand and covered her mouth and nose. Her gaze was calm and steady, but the faint, labored breathing that escaped through her fingers betrayed a complex anguish. It seemed to be mixed with an unspeakable fear.

With a slight tremor, she took out her phone and tossed it directly onto the wrought iron coffee table.

"You still want to know what he looked like when he died, right? Look for yourselves, it's the first email in your spam folder. Just open it. If... if it hasn't been automatically deleted yet."

Xiang Nanfeng and Mao Xi, the Gu Master, immediately approached. After some manipulation, Mao Xi successfully located the document. The sender was Wen Zhiyuan, the secretary of the Youdu University's administrative office. Opening the letter, the text consisted of only two short lines:

"Dear Xiao Zuo: Due to your insistence, we have decided to send you the photos taken by the Wangshan police during their response to the incident. You have the right to see these photos, but we still hope you will not open them. Please contact us anytime if you encounter any difficulties!"

The two simultaneously looked up, exchanged a glance, and then opened the photos attached to the email, seeing one clear and horrifying scene after another:

On the wooden floor of the second-floor studio, there were many small circles that had been burned black:

One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine.

Within the nine small circles were ashes from burned paper. These nine small circles together formed a large circle about three or four meters in diameter. In the center of the large circle, the man was curled up in a twisted posture, his back arched like a taut bow, his arms clenched tightly against his chest, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force, and his fingernails almost digging into his flesh.

His head was tilted back, the veins on his neck bulging like gnarled vines, his mouth wide open, as if he wanted to roar in his last moments, but only left behind silent despair.

His cloudy eyes were wide open, the pupils unfocused as he stared at the sparse sunlight filtering through from above. Fine red veins covered the whites of his eyes, as if they were soaked in blood. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, staining his dark homespun clothes with a small wet patch. His cheeks and neck still bore traces of blood from his painful struggles, a mixture of light and dark marks.

The marks from his violent leg spasms were clearly visible, his trouser legs were rumpled and disheveled, and the flowerpots at his feet were overturned. The dirty water that had seeped down from the soil in the flowerpot's drip tray spilled into the gaps in the wooden floor, mixing with the humus and peat moss in the flowerpot and the urine that had spread from under the man, forming a puddle.

The damp air, the decaying plant roots, and the pervasive stench of urine were enough to imagine how suffocating the atmosphere inside the room must have been. When the young artists rode their Harley-Davidson motorcycles, making a racket and blasting through the streets, passing by the entrance of No. 18, Section 3, Circle Art City, who could have imagined that the frozen, lifeless face inside the small space had already told the story of the tragic and resentful loss of life that had been abruptly cut short all night?

"The first person to find him was the real estate company's business manager. He said my father had arranged with him three days earlier to check out at 10 a.m. that morning. He rang the doorbell and knocked, but there was no response. He called and found that the cell phone was on, but no one answered, even though the phone was inside the house. Also, all the lights in the house were still on. So, he used the spare key to open the door and then called the police."

"Yes, I've seen it." Xiang Nanfeng flipped through the attached photos and saw the death report jointly issued by the branch bureau's forensic doctor and the emergency room doctor of Wangshan City Third People's Hospital. At the top of the report, a line of striking bold text caught his eye: "Highly suspected sudden cardiac death." After carefully reviewing the report, Xiang Nanfeng nodded and said to Mao Xigu Master:

"I think there's nothing wrong with this report. Look, a comprehensive physical examination was conducted, and no signs of mechanical injury were found—no contusions, lacerations, or fractures—so the possibility of death from external injury is ruled out. There were no strangulation marks or ligation marks on the neck, no cyanosis of the lips or nails, and no petechiae on the conjunctiva of the eyelids, so the possibility of asphyxiation is also ruled out. Furthermore, blood and body fluid screenings were performed, and routine tests for sedatives, hypnotics, pesticides, carbon monoxide, and alcohol were all negative. Of course, drug use was also ruled out. All common poisons and drugs were negative. Unless an autopsy is performed, these examinations are quite comprehensive."

After Xiang Nanfeng finished speaking, he looked up and stopped looking at the attached photos in his email. He stared at Mao Xigu Master with a questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Zuo Hezi was also staring at him: witchcraft? Obviously, they were all waiting for his explanation.

But the leader of the Maoxi Gu Sect shook his head. He wasn't in a hurry to look up, but instead lowered his head to refute their questions, saying:

"Listen, I'm only saying that Professor Zuo's death was not an accident, I'm only saying that he died because of the witchcraft of the Hua Miao witch, but I have never denied the police and doctors' deductions, and I have never denied that his cause of death was sudden cardiac death."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Mao Xigu Master frowned, staring a little longer at the most chilling "portrait" of Zuo Sigong. Then, he slowly raised his head and asked:

"There's nothing wrong with this death certificate. I think if it weren't for that formatted laptop and the room being ransacked and turned into a mess, the police probably wouldn't have gotten involved, right?"

The two were puzzled by his sudden question, but after exchanging a glance, they both nodded in unison.

"So..." Master Mao Xi continued, "the key issue isn't Professor Zuo's cause of death, but rather his strange behavior of searching for and destroying things before his death, is that right?"

After listening to Mao Xigu's analysis, the two nodded in unison again, their eyes showing a hint of sudden realization and seriousness.

Then, the leader of the Maoxi Gu clan tapped his fingertips lightly on the table and continued:

"Just now, Xiang Nanfeng specifically mentioned a point in the forensic report stating that Professor Zuo had never used drugs before his death. I don't know if Xiang Nanfeng also had similar suspicions. You see, for just one test for methamphetamine and its characteristic metabolites, the police forensic doctor collected four different samples: blood, urine, saliva, and hair. What does that mean? Oh, by the way, Ms. Zuo might not know this, but I studied chemistry. So I have a certain understanding of the logic behind chemical drug testing."

"Does this mean they suspect my dad is using drugs?" Zuo Hezi looked surprised.

"No," Xiang Nanfeng interrupted her, saying firmly, "This means the police believe Professor Zuo's abnormal behavior is consistent with a drug overdose, which seems to be the kind of mania and paranoia that only drugs can bring about."

"Yes! That's right!" Mao west Gu Master gave Nan Feng a thumbs up:

"Methamphetamine corresponds to central nervous system stimulants like crystal meth, yaba, and ecstasy. There were also two other tests: PCP and LSD. PCP is phencyclohexylpiperidine, commonly known as 'angel dust,' which produces a strong sense of dissociation; LSD is lysergic acid diacetamide, a representative of potent hallucinogens. These two, along with the four routine drug tests, including even hair samples that can trace drug use over several months, indicate that even after confirming that Professor Zuo was alone in the studio at the time of the incident and ruling out coercion, the police still suspect he ingested some kind of hallucinogenic drug or narcotic."

At this moment, Xiang Nanfeng stared at Professor Zuo's deceased face on his phone screen—his pupils were unfocused, and his mouth was crooked to one side, as if he had seen something that shattered his reason before he died. A chill suddenly ran down his spine: "Yes, it seems there is no better explanation than hallucination. Even if he was really threatened, there was no need to go to such extremes. There was no need to burn all the paper, not even the banknotes."

"But he didn't take hallucinogens? So, you're saying this is witchcraft?"

Mao west Gu Master's fingertips tapped lightly on the coffee table, as if counting some secret rhythm:

"Yes. In ancient times, there were many very famous hallucinogens. Aztec priests communicated with the gods using the paeoniflora cactus, Native Americans used ayahuasca for divination, the Maya ate hallucinogenic mushrooms to worship the sun god, and many Chinese medicines also have hallucinogenic properties, such as henbane, aconite, and strychnine, and the most famous of all is datura flower."

"I know that the Miao people have a kind of witchcraft called Illusionary Heart Gu. People who are afflicted by this Gu will be immersed in the illusions created by the Gu witch and completely obey her. I suspect that the cultivation of Illusionary Heart Gu must be related to some kind of hallucinogenic drug, but witchcraft is not a drug, so the drug components cannot be detected in a person's body no matter what."

"Professor Zuo must have possessed some secrets of the Miao Kingdom. He was poisoned by the Gu witch and began to hallucinate. Under the Gu witch's manipulation, he destroyed these secrets, and then..."

"And then what?"

Mao Xigu pointed to the狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face of Professor Zuo lying dead on the ground in the phone screen, and closed his eyes:

"And then... he probably died of fright from some kind of terrifying hallucination."