Messages

When Xiajun got back to his hotel room, he was notified that he had been left a few messages on his answering machine.

Confused, he checked his phone to see why he hadn't been contacted via that, but he came to realize that it was dead. Tired, Xiajun sat on his bed and pressed the button to the answering machine, slowly going through the messages:

"Hello, sir. We tried to reach you on your phone but you weren't picking up. Your car insurance is-" Xiajun skipped the rest of the message and moved to the next on:

"Hey, Jun, hope you got back safely. . ." It was Qi Lei's voice. ". . .you wouldn't answer your phone and I wondered if you had misplaced it. . . I forwarded the pictures to Shan just as you said and he confirmed he'd get back to me in a couple days..." Xiajun nodded in silent approval. "I gave your number to him, just in case I'm unreachable. I hope that's fine. Cheers!"

The message ended and the machine continued to whir, waiting for someone to move to the next message. Xiajun sighed; giving away his number was something he tried to avoid as much as possible, and he couldn't say he was happy with Qi Lei's choice, even if it was someone from his own firm.

Still, Xiajun played the next message:

"Good afternoon, Detective!" Zhaohui's sunny voice echoed through the hotel room. "I hope you're well and the case is going smoothly" Xiajun fast forwarded the felicitations and the machine whirred loudly like a scratching disk, and then resumed to its normal hum. ". . .uhh, please call me back as soon as you can. I have some news regarding the Wu Yanlin case. . ." Xiajun's ears perked up. ". . .that's all. Uhh. . ." There was a sudden shuffling in the background, as if Zhaohui was looking through some documents. Then the line went dead and Xiajun sat thoughtfully amidst the machine's continuous hum.

Sighing, Xiajun plugged his phone into the socket over his nightstand and watched the screen glow dimly. He nodded and clicked a button on the answering machine to listen to the very last message:

". . ." There was a grunt at the start and a slow breathing of a man echoed through the room. Xiajun peered at the number in confusion; it was not one he recognized. Who was this? ". . ." Xiajun fast forwarded. ". . ." Still, there was the ominous slow breathing and nothing more.

"What the hell is this," Xiajun muttered and reached for the buttons. Just as he was about to delete the message, a voice perked up and Xiajun's hand seemed to stop midway, hovering in the air.

"Is this the Jun guy?" a distant gruff voice said, as if talking to someone else. There was some more mumbling and the voice became louder, clearer, indicating that the person was stalking into the receiver. "We heard you were working on Yanlin's case. Want me to tell you who did it?" There was laughter and snickering in the background, which Xiajun struggled to identify. "Drop the case, man. It's for your own good. . ." There was a pause. "Consider this is a warning."

And that was it.

Xiajun threw his head back on his bed, his head a jumble of thoughts. Who was the caller? The voice did not belong to someone he recognized, and it seemed as if there was a group of them, not just one person. Could this somehow be related to the case, or was it just a mere prank call?

Xiajun shook his head. No, it can't have been a prank call. No one except him and a few of his close companions knew he was even assigned the case, and he was not ready to believe anyone had come to betray him. Xiajun sighed and picked up his phone which was now sufficiently charged.

He dialed a number and put the call on speaker whilst he got out of his suit.

"...Hello?"

"What the hell's going on?" Xiajun called loudly

There was a short pause. "Um, who is this?"

Xiajun sighed. "Uncle Zhang, did you accidently wipe out all your contacts again?"

There was a pause again and then a hearty laugh erupted through the phone speakers. Xiajun rolled his eyes as he hung his waistcoat on a vacant hanger.

"Ah, so it's my dear nephew, eh? How's Hong Kong? The case's going well, no hiccups or anything, I hope?" exclaimed Zhang Long.

"I can't say no."

"What's happened?" his uncle's voice turned worried. "Is your condition troubling you again? Did you take your meds?"

Xiajun figured he was talking about his ability to see ghosts, and no he hadn't been bothered very much. Well, not any more than he usually was. He had become adept at ignoring the wandering blue souls, even though they did played at his mind and sometimes managed to confuse him between the living and the dead. But now was not the time to discuss it; there were more pressing matters at hand.