Kiwi Beyond the Cage 001

**Caged Bird (I)**

Ji Wei killed the man stalking her.

The man lived on the fourth floor of the apartment complex. Ji Wei purchased the first, second, and third floors. Lying in her vast bedroom on the third floor, she often hallucinated the man’s viscous breath seeping through the thick ceiling, as if someone pressed their face against the unyielding floorboards, peering at her through invisible cracks. That gaze clung like a shadow, licking at her heels no matter where she fled.

At first, it feigned accidental glances.

Then came the pretense of candid photography.

Eventually, her ears were filled with the *click-click* of shutters, flashes blinding her eyes until偷窥者’s greed outgrew mere voyeurism. He began stalking her—appearing at her workplace, dissolving into every passerby on her commute, tailing her day and night, even moving upstairs.

Ji Wei had endured enough.

She seldom rested on the third floor anymore, instead collapsing on the second-floor sofa after work. That night, as the second floor lay quiet and dim, drowsiness overtook her—until the viscous sensation returned. Someone pressed against the floor, dragging their skin over every inch she had trodden, watching through the planks…

But she was on the second floor.

The third floor was her domain.

No living thing should breathe here but her.

—An intruder had entered her home.

Him.

Ji Wei crept upstairs, unlocked the door with her key, and found the room blazing with light.

Outside, it seemed to rain—thunderous downpours, lightning splitting the sky, the clamor deafening and blinding. Yet outside might also be utter silence, a suffocating darkness so still her heartbeat thundered in her ears, blurring her senses.

When Ji Wei regained awareness, blood pooled beneath her feet, splattering the sheets and carpets. The man lay motionless, his face ashen, eyes shut tight, blood seeping from a wound on his forehead.

This bedroom held two people.

But only one breath echoed, for the other had died—

By Ji Wei’s hand.

Crouching beside the corpse, she fumbled for fruit candy in her pajama pocket, finding none. Bloodied hands stained her clothes, the crimson spreading like roses. Settling for anything, she retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the man’s pocket, lit one with trembling fingers, and inhaled.

Smoke unfurled in hazy blooms, easing her taut nerves. She squinted in relief.

Was it a hallucination? The man’s eyelids twitched.

Thick lashes veiled the sockets, blood spattered across his nose like a crimson mole. A faint breath seemed to linger. Without thinking, Ji Wei seized the object on the floor and swung it again and again—a heavy,闷响thud echoing until exhaustion claimed her. Only when the man’s skull caved in did she collapse, the metallic frame slipping from her grasp.

The frame, carved with golden butterflies, lay shattered, its surface slick with blood obscuring the photograph within. Disgusted, she hurled it aside and wiped her face.

Her cheeks were sticky with gore. She knew her face was no cleaner than the frame, blood dripping from her eyes and jawline—every drop foreign, tainted.

The clock had passed midnight. A new day had begun.

Today was special, but it didn’t spare her from waking early for work.

Ji Wei showered quickly.

Too tired, she ate a fruit candy.

No body was disposed of.

.

Her boss didn’t come to the office, granting Ji Wei rare peace. No shutter clicks, no flashes—her mood lightened. Seated at her desk, she idly searched her phone, thinking of the man lying dead on the third floor. A passing colleague glanced at her screen, curious.

“Looking to buy a knife?”

Ji Wei hummed in affirmation.

“For what?”

Pausing, she drawled, “Chopping meat.”

“But you can’t cook. You always—”

The colleague shifted gears, leaning in to gossip, “Did you hear why President Sheng isn’t at the office today?”

Ji Wei’s mind was elsewhere. Distracted, she replied, “No idea.”

“You wouldn’t know,” the colleague persisted, “Everyone knows your relationship with him…”

Ji Wei was President Sheng’s secretary.

A newly appointed one, at that.

Her inexperience and frequent mistakes earned her hours of scolding in his office. Each time she emerged, facing her colleagues’ stares was mortifying.

“Our relationship…” Unwilling to dwell on it, Ji Wei pulled out her candy box, scoffing, “What relationship?”

Superior and subordinate.

Capitalist and wage slave.

Master and scapegoat.

Sensing Ji Wei’s sour mood, the colleague’s gaze turned strange. Before she could speak, a commotion arose in the hallway—uniformed police officers appeared.

“Ji Wei, Secretary Ji?” the Administrative Director knocked.

Seeing Ji Wei stand, he beckoned warmly, “Come, little Ji, step out for a moment.”

Under her colleagues’ curious eyes, Ji Wei was escorted to the reception room. The director introduced her to the officers with practiced calm:

“This is Officer Ou Yang Lin.” The female officer in a peaked cap nodded curtly.

“This is Officer Zhao, and this is Officer Wang.” The young officer with a clipboard smiled, while the tall, scarred one with a stern face remained expressionless.

Wiping sweat from her brow, the director reassured her, “Nothing serious—just some questions. Tell them the truth.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he added hastily, patting Ji Wei’s shoulder before trailing off, “I’ve already contacted President Sheng…”

Impatient, Officer Wang—the stern one—flashed his badge. “You’re the resident of floors one through three at Huanmeng Jiayuan?”

Ji Wei felt no fear.

On the contrary, she was eerily calm, her gaze sweeping over the three officers as she reached for the candy in her pocket. “Yes.”

A glance passed between them. Officer Zhao, the youngest, tapped his notepad. “You live alone across three floors?”

“Yes.”

The female officer spoke up. “A homicide occurred at Huanmeng Jiayuan. We need to ask about your whereabouts last night.”

“Yes.” Clutching the candy box in her palm, Ji Wei didn’t inquire further but stared at her fingers instead. The cut on her fingertip—a thin slice from the frame—served as a reminder of last night’s events.

Her lips parted, dry. She debated whether to take another candy. The officers’ relentless questions mingled with the jingle of the candy box, grating on her nerves. When certain keywords surfaced, Ji Wei’s replies grew more animated.

“I hear strange noises every day. If you’re asking about anomalies, last night was certainly… because—”

The three officers watched her.

The jingling ceased. Silence fell. Ji Wei inhaled deeply. “The world went quiet.”

*Clack—*

Officer Zhao’s pen hit the floor.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stooping to retrieve it.

Officer Wang snorted. “Ms. Ji.”

He emphasized, “Cooperate with the questioning.”

Ji Wei met his gaze, bewildered. “I *am* cooperating.”

“Fine.” Wang’s temper matched his scowl. “Then explain—how did the world ‘go quiet’?”

Ji Wei tilted her head, staring at the ceiling with timid eyes.

Raising a slender, pale finger, the three officers followed her motion, tilting their heads upward as she spoke in a steady, clear voice:

“A pair of eyes.”

Bloodshot eyes.

The hellish gaze of a demon.

They pierced through the ceiling, watching her, monitoring every move of the caged bird below. The weight of malice condensed into tangible filth, splattering her skin.

“They’ve always watched me, laughing shrilly. I couldn’t bear it anymore…” Her voice quivered, arms wrapped around herself as she whispered, “…I destroyed the source of sin.”

“What?”

Ji Wei: “I killed a pair of eyes.”

Officer Wang frowned. “You killed *what*?”

Ji Wei ceased trembling, slowly lifting her face, her tone resolute: “It was me.”

“It was me who killed him.”

The trio’s expressions shifted.

Officer Wang scrutinized her, while Officer Zhao hastily pulled a photo from his notes, only to be halted by Officer Ou Yang. “Who did you kill?”

How could Ji Wei know? She didn’t know his name, his motives—only that he was a deranged stalker driving her to madness.

“Wherever I fled, he found me. Dressed in bizarre clothes, trailing behind me, lurking in my workplace, pressed against my ceiling… He was everywhere…”

Last night, he’d even broken into her home.

Her voice choked, eyes reddening as she sought validation: “Shouldn’t he be dead?”

“You can’t just kill someone,” Officer Zhao blurted.

Ou Yang plucked the photo from Zhao’s hand and held it before Ji Wei. “Is this him?”

Ji Wei glanced once, then shook her head vigorously.

“Not him?” Wang snorted. “You’re shaking your head without looking properly.”

“I looked,” Ji Wei whispered. “It’s not him.”

“I don’t know him.” Could not, should not.

“This is strange,” muttered Zhao, conferring with his colleagues. “Could there be multiple homicides in the apartment complex?”

Learning the body still lay in Ji Wei’s home, the officers requested to investigate the scene. As they prepared to escort her out, the reception room door was knocked ajar by a sharply dressed young man.

“Hello,” he said, producing a business card. “I’m Wu Li, President Sheng’s assistant.”

Glancing past them, Wu adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. “I’d like to discuss certain matters privately with you.”

“But—”

“This concerns your ongoing investigation,” Wu interjected.

“…”

Ji Wei waited outside, not for long, before the three emerged, their expressions inscrutable.

Officer Wang, the towering one, kept his gaze averted. Officer Zhao, clutching his folder, remained silent. Only Ou Yang met Ji Wei’s eyes.

Ji Wei leaned forward. “Will you still visit my home?”

Her shift would end soon.

Ou Yang opened her mouth, then closed it, patting Ji Wei’s hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. “We’ve noted your situation. We’ll contact you if needed.”

In other words: *No.*

“You’re police, aren’t you?” Ji Wei frowned. Hadn’t she killed someone? Shouldn’t she be arrested?

“And the body?”

“Xiao Wei,” Wu Li emerged, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. “President Sheng’s office urgently requires several documents. Organize them and pass them to me.”

He added, “Before you clock out.”

With half an hour left until quitting time, Ji Wei’s thoughts scattered. Fearful of tardiness and reprimand, she dared not press further, hurrying away.

As she brushed past Officer Ou Yang, their hands briefly touched.

Ji Wei instinctively clenched her fist, not looking back.

That afternoon, Ji Wei didn’t leave work on time.

Not until eight o’clock did she finish her tasks, hastily emailing the files to Wu Li. His replies flooded in—likely scolding her for slowness. Ji Wei didn’t dare read them, powering down her computer.

Most of the building’s lights were extinguished, but Ji Wei wasn’t alone; other overtime workers lingered. She yawned, pocketed her candy box, and said goodbye to colleagues.

The company wasn’t far from Huanmeng—a five-bus-stop ride, a fifteen-minute drive, or a thirty-minute walk. Due to the stalker, Ji Wei hadn’t walked home in ages. Recalling the man’s mangled corpse upstairs, awaiting decay, her mood lifted. She decided to walk, planning to buy a cleaver along the way.

Neon lights flickered on the streets, traffic flowed ceaselessly, and pedestrians wove along the sidewalks. Skyscrapers loomed in the dark, car horns blared in the distance, and children’s laughter echoed from a nearby park.

*Click—*

Without warning, a shutter sound pierced her ears.

Ji Wei halted, turning slowly in the blinding flash. The lens captured her pale, terrified face.

Those eyes—they were back.

“No… it’s impossible…” Ji Wei instinctively grasped her candy box, reassuring herself the man was dead, gone forever.

Muttering impossibilities, she sprinted home. When consciousness returned, she stood before the third-floor door of Huanmeng Apartment.

*Squeak—*

Inserting the key, Ji Wei pushed open the door.

She needed to dispose of the body.

Pulling the cleaver from her bag, she entered the bedroom. The bed remained as disheveled as last night, yet the floor’s bloodstain was gone—the body… vanished.

How could it be gone?!

It *couldn’t* be gone!!

Panicked, Ji Wei ransacked the room—wardrobes, desk corners, even under the bed—finding nothing.

*Drip—*

Liquid splashed her cheek.

Wiping it away, she found her hand smeared with viscous red. Blood.

Retreating, Ji Wei tilted her head back slowly. The once-splendid chandelier, now cloaked in shadow, revealed a pair of eyes in the hazy light.

Eyes dripping with sticky blood.

The man, who should have been dead, contorted and snarled against the ceiling, his bloodshot pupils fixed on her, lips curling into a grotesque grin—

“Looking for me?”