Chapter 165: The Dying Expression
The movement made me uncomfortable, and as I reacted, I hurriedly dropped my hands. My legs felt as soft as if I were standing on cotton. I heard Qin Jian asking, "Ma Qi, what could possibly be more important than my recounting of a nightmare? Speak up!"
Reluctantly, my eyes glanced at the curled-up corpse, and I stammered, "Someone's dead. It's Zhou Mengyao." I didn't feel particularly afraid of death itself. A dead person has lost their breath, their body cold, their expression frozen at the moment of death. Zhou Mengyao's expression was indescribable in words; combined with those marks that looked like scratches, it was even more terrifying.
From the look on Zhou Mengyao's face, it seemed she resisted death and wished to live again, yet for some horrifying reason, she was plunged into despair and fear to the utmost degree. Her expression could not be captured in language; only through photography or painting could one truly reflect the most authentic aspect of her at the moment of her death.
The dead do not possess the cunning of the living; once dead, it's all over and they no longer scheme against others. Yet Zhou Mengyao's death felt so unjust. If my suspicions were correct, I would carry guilt for a lifetime. Logically speaking, a person who has been dead for two or three days in moderate temperatures would only begin to smell; they wouldn't rot to such an extent unless she had been dead for a week. In that case, decomposition would set in, leading to livor mortis and attracting flies to lay eggs, resulting in maggots.
If that were true, today would be her seventh night after death. She returned but did not reveal the truth to me; instead, she wanted to present herself in a favorable light. She wished to leave me with a good impression and was reluctant to expose the ugly side of death.
Zhou Mengyao, my beloved sister figure, had died yet still cared about appearances.
I was calculating the time of Zhou Mengyao's death when Qin Jian's serious voice came through the phone: "Ma Qi, it's Ghost Month now, not April Fool's Day. How could Zhou Mengyao have been fine just a while ago and suddenly be dead?"
I knew Qin Jian wouldn't believe that Zhou Mengyao was dead. In fact, I didn't believe it either—if I hadn't seen her current state with my own eyes. No matter what, I couldn't accept that someone who once shared a romantic night with me could die suddenly at home and be so severely decomposed.
I imagined Qin Jian half-squinting his eyes while lying in bed talking to me on the phone. This thought irritated me; how could anyone treat death so lightly? Just like when someone passes away and their family comes to our Funeral Home to order a coffin—it shouldn't be taken lightly.
"Qin Jian, you bastard! How can you joke about something like death?"
Hearing my anger, Qin Jian quickly replied, "Okay, wait for me. I'll be there right away."
"Hurry up, Qin Jian! I can't hold on much longer!" I slid down against the wall in despair, regretting that I hadn't come to see her sooner.
The foul odor in the air assaulted my senses. Reluctantly, I stepped outside into the cool breeze that sent chills through my body but improved the air quality significantly.
I wanted to smoke; I took out my cigarettes but realized I had no lighter.
Just as I was feeling troubled about this, a hand reached out from behind me with a blue flame flickering from a lighter.
Following the hand holding the lighter, an unfamiliar yet mysterious face suddenly appeared before me.
“Qin Ye?”
“I’m here to take her away.”
“Who?”
Qin Ye smiled mysteriously, not making any special movements, and a dark shadow flickered at the door.
“You are…” I had speculated a lot about Qin Ye in the past. I guessed he was an undercover agent in the Station, pretending to be crazy to get into the Mental Hospital, then repeatedly sneaking out, even saving me, and making a bizarre appearance at the Ten-Mile Temple with the High Monk.
Now he stood before me, intending to take Zhou Mengyao’s soul.
“I am a civil servant of the Underworld.”
“Ghostly Enforcer?” It wasn’t hard to imagine my eyes widening in disbelief. Was Qin Jian playing an April Fool's joke on me? Now was Qin Ye also pulling a prank by claiming to be a civil servant of the Underworld?
I scratched my scalp, looking around in confusion, and pinched my arm hard. It hurt; I was sure this wasn’t a dream.
Qin Ye didn’t even look at me. His words were directed at me: “Young man, the title of Ghostly Enforcer hasn’t been used in the Underworld for a long time; it’s now just civil servant.”
Zhou Mengyao stood behind him like a shadow, her head bowed. She seemed terrified of Qin Ye, standing there obediently without moving. Perhaps curiosity and pity were getting the better of me. “Qin Uncle, I have many questions for you, including about Zhou Mengyao’s cause of death…”
“Curiosity killed the cat; it’s best not to ask. Her cause of death is your business. I’m only responsible for taking the deceased's soul to the Underworld; anything else has nothing to do with me,” Qin Ye warned softly. He emanated an incredibly cold aura, and I believed he came from the Underworld. Yet before this moment, I hadn’t sensed this strange aura from him—why was that? I racked my brain trying to select a question I had wanted to ask for a long time.
“Isn’t it true, Qin Uncle, that you appeared at the Cemetery last time and possessed Uncle Luo to save me? Since you can do those things, why can’t you help me one more time?”
Qin Ye shot me a fierce glare: “If you already know that, why ask? Someone is coming; I must leave.”
Indeed, someone was coming. Initially, I wanted to call Qin Jian alone, but unexpectedly he brought many people with him. Qin Ye walked towards them with Zhou Mengyao, seemingly passing right through Qin Jian.
Qin Ye passed through Qin Jian. I could see Qin Jian shudder slightly and instinctively glance back at his colleagues who had come with him.
Many people from the Station had arrived. Based on what I had told him over the phone, Qin Jian concluded that this was a serious homicide case.
The crime scene investigation is a crucial part of technical detective work in criminal cases. Qin Jian, a character from the bureau, came along as well.
I squatted outside taking statements when he handed me a cigarette. "Tell me what happened."
"I came to see her on a whim because of a dream. What happened afterward is something you wouldn't believe, and I can't explain it clearly, so it's better if you don't listen."
Qin Jian took a puff of his cigarette and asked, "What dream? Does it relate to your profession?"
I understood what he meant. As a Mortician, I had some knowledge of Mystical Arts, yet I foolishly came here because of a dream and ended up spending time with the dead. I lowered my head, letting the cigarette burn between my fingers, feeling the heat from the burning tip as I quietly said, "I dreamed that Zhou Mengyao was covered in blood, so I wanted to come and check." I refrained from mentioning that I once had an affair with Zhou Mengyao; I didn't want Qin Jian to think less of me. It was my inner guilt that made me careless and unable to see through the true nature of the fake Zhou Mengyao.
"And then what did you see?"
"That's enough. You won't believe what happened next, so please don't ask."
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