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墨書 Inktalez
Living Funeral
Under the dim light, I could clearly see his face, which was pale to a terrifying degree.
Zhang Xun stood still for a moment, then looked up. Our eyes met, but only for a second. Zhang Xun quickly turned around and came over. I was curious about what Zhang Xun had discussed with the ghost.
After waiting for about five minutes, Zhang Xun knocked on the door and entered the room. However, once inside, Zhang Xun said nothing. Unable to suppress my curiosity, I asked, "Did you talk to the ghost? What did you discuss?"
Gao Ling, hearing my question, quickly leaned in with interest.
Zhang Xun replied, "Don't think too much about it; there was nothing." After that, he sat down and continued watching television. I had clearly seen him talking to the ghost; how could he now claim there was nothing?
If Zhang Xun didn't want to share, there was nothing I could do to force him.
We sat watching TV until midnight. Zhang Xun only mentioned that we should stay indoors tonight and avoid meeting any ghosts; other than that, he said nothing more. So I prepared to take a shower and go to bed.
After finishing my shower and returning to my room, I suddenly received a phone call. The number looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't be sure. I pressed the answer button and said hello. The voice on the other end asked, "Do you remember me?"
Hearing that voice, I immediately recognized who it was. "Is this Du Feng?"
He replied, "What a surprise! I didn't expect you to remember me." I said, "Thank you for saving me and covering my medical expenses. Send me your account number; I'll pay you back." Du Feng responded, "That's not important." I didn't know much about Du Feng; he had appeared out of nowhere. I felt that his presence wouldn't bring me good fortune. He had impersonated a Civil Affairs Department staff member—was he trying to extract some information from me? After a pause, I asked, "Then what is important?"
Du Feng chuckled and said, "Last time, I wanted to know what happened at the funeral home."
I remained silent for a moment before replying, "You're lying; you're not from the Civil Affairs Department. So why would you want to know what happened at the funeral home? Without understanding the situation and based solely on your false identity, I'm not going to tell you anything."
Du Feng seemed taken aback for a moment and said, "Did you investigate me? You're quite clever. However, Chen Fei, I want to assure you that I mean no harm."
I said without malice, "If you have no intention of discussing it, then don't ask about the funeral home. It's a taboo topic for me, at least I haven't talked about it with anyone other than Zhang Xun, and I haven't discussed it with Gao Ling either. So I absolutely won't talk about it with a stranger."
I paused for a moment before saying to Du Feng, "If there's nothing else, I'm going to sleep. If you need money, just send me your account details and let me know the exact amount." With that, I hung up the phone. I lay in bed, not thinking about anything because the moment I did, my head felt heavy.
Before long, my phone buzzed with a text message; it was probably Du Feng asking for money.
I opened the message, and Du Feng had sent me a photo. It was a young and very handsome face. However, after just one glance, I recognized him. This was the corpse I had stabbed in the blood hole back in Snake Skin Gully. I stared at the photo for a moment before texting back, "Who is this? Where did you get this picture?"
Moreover, it was clear that the photo wasn't taken in Snake Skin Gully; it looked more like it was shot in some dark corner with poor lighting.
Du Feng replied, "Chen Fei, you're finally interested."
Since texting wasn't getting us anywhere, I decided to call Du Feng directly. He picked up quickly. "By calling this number, you’re indicating that you know this person."
In my heart, I thought, how could I not recognize him? The blood hole I made is still fresh in my memory, and I only did it to help the Taoist priest. Now that this corpse has been photographed, does that mean the Taoist has come back to life and left Snake Skin Gully?
I pondered this possibility but wondered why the Taoist hadn't come to find me afterward and who Du Feng really was to know about this matter. My curiosity about Du Feng grew immensely. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Just tell me what you need to say."
Du Feng replied, "Actually, it's quite simple. If the person in this photo comes looking for you, you should call me immediately."
"Why?"
Du Feng said, "Because I'm here to save you."
"Why do you want to save me?"
"A person sent me to save you, but I can't."
After he finished speaking, the first name that came to my mind was Jiang Changsheng. So I asked, "Is it Jiang Changsheng?"
He fell silent for a few seconds before replying, "No."
No? How could that be? Who else could it be besides Jiang Changsheng? Du Feng said, "Since you refuse to tell me what happened at the funeral home, I won't force you. Just remember my words: if he shows up, call me."
I replied, "Why should I trust you?"
Du Feng said, "You shouldn't trust me; you should trust her. I'm hanging up now."
"Hey..." The line went dead with a busy signal. This guy just hung up; he seemed like another one of those who enjoyed playing tricks. Lying on my bed, I couldn't think of who would come to protect me.
But would a Taoist really harm me? I found it unlikely. I had no grudge against the Taoist; we had helped each other out. If there was any animosity, it was because I had lost his Urn. But even though I lost his Urn, didn't I return him a body? In that sense, we were even.
It felt like after Jiang Changsheng appeared, many more mysteries emerged.
Who was the person impersonating Zhang Xun at the funeral home? Who was Du Feng? And why did that ghost just speak as Zhang Xun? Why didn't the Taoist come to find me? Instead, someone was trying to harm me. Who were the people behind Du Feng? Damn it, thinking about all this really gave me a headache. Since I couldn't make sense of it all, I decided not to think about it and quickly fell asleep again.
However, not long after, I smelled something burning. I jolted awake and found that it was already bright outside, but my complexion began to change. The room was filled with Ghost Money, yet not a single piece had been burned. They were scattered intact in every corner of my room. But the smell of something burnt lingered in the air.
I sniffed around and then jumped off the bed. I started searching for the source of the burnt smell but found nothing after a thorough search. Even outside the room yielded no clues.
Moreover, once I stepped out of the room, the burnt smell disappeared. Where did all this Ghost Money come from?
I knocked on Zhang Xun's door, and soon he opened it. I began to explain the situation, and Zhang Xun stepped into my room, glanced around without saying a word, then squatted down and slowly started picking up the Ghost Money. His movements were methodical as he continued to gather it.
There was an overwhelming amount of Ghost Money in the room, and seeing Zhang Xun so calmly collecting it made me think that perhaps the situation wasn't too serious after all.
I was stunned for a few seconds before I squatted down as well. Zhang Xun turned to look at me and asked, "What are you doing?"
I replied, "Just like you."
Zhang Xun said to me, "Aged, let the dead collect the Ghost Money; you don't need to do anything."
I was taken aback by his words. What did he mean by letting the dead collect it? Was he implying that he was dead? I quickly asked for clarification. At that moment, Zhang Xun's actions resembled those of an elderly man in his twilight years—slow yet incredibly patient. After I spoke, he continued to pick up all the Ghost Money without saying anything.
Seeing that Zhang Xun remained silent, I reached out to grab some Ghost Money, but just as my hand extended, Zhang Xun caught it.
He shook his head at me. I asked, "Why?"
Zhang Xun replied, "Some things are beyond your understanding, Aged. Just focus on living well." His tone carried a hint of sadness. I looked at him; his eyes were remarkably clear at that moment. After a brief pause of one or two seconds, he resumed picking up the Ghost Money.
I stood there motionless and asked him, "What happened in 198?"
"I only found out last night; it turns out it wasn't just 198."
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