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Chapter 97: Dead Loop (Part Five)
It was saliva! I never drool when I sleep, so if it wasn't saliva, what could it be? I brought my hand to my nose and sniffed. Ugh! It smelled foul. I got up and opened the door, confirming that it was locked from the inside. How strange; the stench still lingered on my fingers. The vividness of that dream left me perplexed. I went to the washroom and rinsed my hands under the faucet for several minutes before the smell finally faded a bit. Returning to my bedroom, I picked up my phone to check the location tracking system, which I had already deleted. The time was three-thirty in the afternoon; there was still plenty of time before nightfall to handle Chiang's funeral.
Before heading out, I needed to call Han Mi to check on her situation. The phone rang for a while before someone picked up, and then I asked, "Mi?"
"Brother Qi, what's up?" Her voice sounded like she had just woken up from sleep. I chuckled softly and said, "Nothing much, you should rest." She really did need the rest after our reckless escape together; she was exhausted. If it weren't for handling Chiang's funeral, I would have liked to continue sleeping myself.
I gathered my emotions and prepared my mindset for work, which was different from my usual lazy attitude of watching TV. This required a full commitment, ready to face any unforeseen events with the right mindset as I headed to the funeral. When I reached the door, I saw that Fat had everything prepared and was waiting for me. A glance around the shop revealed that Chi Xinrong was nowhere in sight. Feeling relaxed, I reminded him to bring more flower wreaths and some young boys and girls, along with several large boxes of gold and silver ingots.
"Set the price for the Chi Family's arrangements, Brother Qi; ask for more since they have money," I said, unable to tolerate Fat's greedy demeanor. Remembering all he had done to me filled me with disgust; now he pretended to be a caring figure trying to profit off me.
"Fat, stop calling me Brother Qi; just call me Seven," I replied coldly, tossing out a few words without looking back as I strode toward the exit. But then something nagged at me, so I turned around and focused intently on Fat, asking, "Where did you put the Soul Stone?"
Fat paused slightly, his eyes darting around as he scratched his face awkwardly and swatted away a fly buzzing above his head with a laugh. "Brother Qi, why do you suddenly ask about that? The Soul Stone is right where I left it! If not, I'll go get it back for you when I'm free."
"Sure! After Chi Xinrong's uncle's funeral is over, you can bring it back to me." Doubts lingered in my mind, but I couldn't expose his lies. Deep down, I knew the Soul Stone wasn't where he claimed it was; yet part of me hoped that perhaps what I'd experienced was just an illusion or hallucination—otherwise how could everything be explained?
Seeing my agreement seemed to relieve Fat somewhat as he grinned shamelessly. "No problem at all, Brother Qi! You focus on your work; I'll take care of everything else." Watching him act so insincerely made my anger boil over; this time, I'd make sure the funeral payment went directly into my account and see how he would handle that.
Thinking about how Fat would look without receiving any money made me chuckle inwardly as I stepped outside into an empty room and opened the door to find my brother's old motorcycle still there.
The old motorcycle was covered in dust; a large spider hung from where it leaned against a broken box. As I swatted at the spider with my hand, it scurried away quickly but met its end under my brother's boot. Spiders were truly disgusting creatures.
I feared that hitting the old motorcycle would send dust flying everywhere. "You must feel lonely and cold without your owner around! Come on; let's get to work." Having had this motorcycle for years gave me some sentimental attachment; after wiping it down carefully with an old towel until satisfied, I finally pushed it out.
As soon as I rolled out the motorcycle, Fat stepped forward to stop me. "Rongrong is coming to pick us up; Chiang's body is at the funeral home. We'll head to her uncle's house first and then go to the funeral home."
I confidently replied while patting the motorcycle again: "Does my brother need someone else's vehicle?"
Fat had no choice but to step aside when he saw my grim expression. Starting up the motorcycle caused a cloud of choking smoke to billow out behind me, making Fat cough violently. But I didn't care; I rode off toward Chi Ruiqiang's house.
Dying young is hard for anyone to bear. Chi Ruiqiang looked noticeably older; his hair had turned gray and his cheeks bore new lines of weariness. His wife remained stunning even in middle age; her simple attire couldn't hide her extraordinary aura.
When we met each other’s gaze upon arrival, we nodded in silent acknowledgment of our presence. However, there was a flicker of resentment in Chi Ruiqiang's eyes directed at me for not intervening when he once sought my help during Chi Zhi Ping's funeral.
Chi Xinrong was not available; my phone settings prevented her from getting through.
The arrangement of the mourning hall was acceptable, a skill that Fat had learned from his grandfather. On the Altar Table lay Chiang's Portrait, half-covered by black gauze. I walked slowly toward the Portrait frame, a sudden feeling stirring within me, reminiscent of a dream I once had.
As I approached the Portrait frame, I instinctively glanced to the side where a coffin should have been.
There was no coffin there, just a collection of disorganized items, such as funeral gift bags and mourning armbands. The armbands were worn on the arm, marked with the character for mourning, and anyone attending to pay their respects had to wear one as a sign of condolence for the Deceased.
Underneath the table displaying the Portrait, a pair of shiny new leather shoes sat neatly arranged, spotless and orderly.
Chi Ruiqiang and his wife watched me silently, rolling up their sleeves. He took out a stick of incense, circled it around the incense burner while muttering something under his breath before inserting it into the burner. Then he grabbed a handful of Joss Paper and placed it in three different spots, invoking the deities to lend their light.
I called out to the person in charge: "Get some water ghosts—two trays will do, three to five each. Three trays of pastries, three to five each as well. Light a cigarette and prepare a pair of chopsticks along with two bowls of half-cooked rice."
The person in charge noted everything down meticulously, nodding and bowing with utmost respect.
Chi Ruiqiang whispered with his wife, whose eyes were red from crying; they nodded at each other while glancing my way. Afterward, he approached me and said, "Master Ma, my son died with his eyes open. Is there any way to resolve this?"
"If he has any unfinished business or anything else, I need to see him first," I replied.
"When will you go?"
"Right away."
Chi Ruiqiang hurriedly pulled out his phone to contact Chi Xinrong. On the other end of the line, Chi Xinrong informed him that she was still on her way; they had quite a few items in the car, including several wreaths on the roof that kept blowing off in the wind. They had picked them up several times along the way, even with traffic police coming to help.
"Have her call for a specialized cargo truck; if that doesn't work, then get a small delivery van," I suggested.
Chi Ruiqiang agreed quickly and relayed my instructions to Chi Xinrong.
I needed to head to the funeral home to assess the situation and couldn't wait for Chi Xinrong's return. Fat was with her; I didn't have anyone to assist me. Just then, Uncle Zhang appeared out of nowhere in front of me: "Seven, I'll go with you."
"Uncle Zhang is here too?"
Uncle Zhang lowered his voice and covered his mouth as he spoke: "Fat called him; he believes that matters concerning Host Family have no age limit—the more proper it is handled, the better. He’s also waiting for some time to help someone with Yin Marriage."
The grandson's eyes were filled with greed. He could do anything, but for someone who died young like Chiang, it was inappropriate to make a big fuss; it should be kept low-key with just close relatives and the Yin Yang Master present. The parents shouldn't attend the funeral. These were things that Fat should have known; how could he mess it up like this?
Fortunately, Uncle Zhang, who had seen a lot and learned many rules from Grandpa, also understood some things about the Supernatural Circle. He didn't heed Fat's loud proclamations but insisted that we wait for my arrival to make a decision. Because of this, Chi Xinrong pressured Fat to find me; she knew where I was.
To my surprise, Chi Xinrong had unethically installed a tracking system on me, which proved somewhat useful. Otherwise, Mi and I would still be lost, unable to distinguish east from west.
Now that we faced this situation, Fat hadn't handled it well. I was angry but didn't want to explode here. I had some things I wanted to verify with Uncle Zhang, so I nodded in agreement: "Then let Chi Ruiqiang call someone to take us to the funeral home."
Anger aside, Fat's arrangement for a Yin Marriage was actually feasible; however, this kind of thing was aimed at children under fifteen who died prematurely and had no marriage partners. The family feared that these deceased children would feel too lonely and unwilling to leave, causing disturbances at home. In desperate situations, they thought of arranging a Yin Marriage for companionship, believing that such arrangements would prevent them from causing trouble. But that wasn't the case!
Moreover, Chiang's death was abnormal. It was entirely inappropriate to arrange a Yin Marriage before uncovering the truth of the matter. Uncle Zhang and I walked towards Chi Ruiqiang, intending to tell him that we couldn't wait for Chi Xinrong to return and needed him to call a car specifically to take us to the funeral home.
Just a few steps in, I heard a sharp sound followed by a scream. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly turned back. On the Altar Table, Chiang's Portrait had fallen to the ground and shattered. A relative in charge cut their finger while picking up the broken frame, blood flowing uncontrollably—a large pool forming quickly and looking quite frightening.
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