Chapter 259: The Rotting Corpse

2022-05-20

“Check if all the windows in the apartment are closed,” I said, pointing at the building manager.

The manager looked pale as a sheet. I had to call him three times before he finally stepped into the room. After a while, he finished checking every room.

He said, “All the windows are closed, and they’re locked too. Besides, this is the ninth floor. The windows are small, so unless the killer was a little kid, there’s no way they could have escaped through them.”

“Wait, so are we really dealing with a ghost?” The manager glanced around nervously, like there might be something else in here with the three of us and the corpse.

His unease made my skin crawl. Even if you know ghosts aren’t real, sometimes it’s easy to scare yourself stupid.

I quickly said, “Stop looking around. Even if there are ghosts, they can’t come out in broad daylight, right? Just stand aside.”

He nodded.

I looked at the body, then at Zhao Mingkun. “Let’s get back to the corpse. We haven’t finished examining it.”

There wasn’t anything new to find on the torso, so my attention turned to the face. The corpse’s hands were covering its face, two big, fleshy hands pressed tightly over it so neither of us could see the condition of the face.

I turned to Zhao Mingkun. “Let’s each take a hand.”

She nodded. Together, we each grabbed one of Liu Ruijie’s hands and pulled them away. I expected the body to be stiff, but it was surprisingly soft. A gentle tug, and Liu Ruijie’s hand came free, resting naturally by his side.

But when I turned back to look, I almost fell over in shock. No, it wasn’t really fear—it was more like a wave of disgust and horror rolled into one. This was easily one of the most revolting corpses I’d ever seen.

Zhao Mingkun recoiled, barely holding back her nausea.

She said, “I’ve seen plenty of bodies over the years, and even though I don’t know how he died, I can guess roughly when he died.”

“When?” I asked. “Before or after Hu Pei?”

Frowning, she replied quickly, “He probably died before Hu Pei. In spring, rigor mortis sets in within thirty minutes to two hours. After nine to twelve hours, the body is completely stiff—at that point, only brute force can break the rigor.”

Listening to her, I felt a bit dazed. For a moment, it felt like the person crouched beside me wasn’t Zhao Mingkun, but Guan Zengbin. Her image suddenly flashed in my mind. I have to admit, I miss her.

When I was with Guan Zengbin, I’d often think of Zhao Mingkun. And now, with Zhao Mingkun beside me, I find myself thinking of Guan Zengbin again.

Zhao Mingkun didn’t seem to notice I’d spaced out. She just kept explaining, “After around thirty hours, the body softens again. By twelve hours after death, the skin starts turning parchment-like—look at his face.”

I leaned in and saw the skin on his face peeling in layers, almost like pages in a book.

She continued, “See those greenish spots around his neck? In this season, those wouldn’t show up until more than twenty-four hours after death.”

She paused, then went on, “Maggots speed up decomposition. So, taking all this into account, he’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours.”

“So!” I snapped my fingers. “He basically died around the same time as Hu Pei? One killer, two murders in two places at once?”

Zhao Mingkun shook her head and lowered her voice. “I’m not your little girlfriend—I’m no forensic expert. There’s a three or four hour margin for error. That’d be enough time for the killer to move to the next location. Unless it really is a ghost doing the killing—then who knows?”

I nodded and turned back to the body.

“Did you notice when we pulled the corpse’s hands away? His index and middle fingers were inside his eye sockets, and his thumbs pushed against the bones below the eyes. Doesn’t that seem familiar?”

Zhao Mingkun looked at the corpse. “Hu Xiaoxue—it’s just like her. Only this time, he managed to get his fingers into his eyes, but died before he could actually gouge them out.”

Fighting down my disgust, I lifted the dead man’s head for a better look at the back. There was a slight dent on the back of the skull and some minor bleeding under the skin—not enough to be fatal. My first guess? Liu Ruijie must’ve collapsed and hit his head on the floor, knocking himself out.

While unconscious, his hands dug into his own eyes. That’s what killed him.

But how could the killer force someone to do that to themselves? It was too bizarre. And in a locked room with both doors and windows sealed—how did they escape?

Is it really possible that Lü Zhiqiu’s ghost came for revenge?

But if the original murders were committed by Liu Ruijie and Hu Pei, then why would the ghost bother to kill Hu Xiaoxue, or drive Jiang Xiaochun insane? Has Lü Zhiqiu’s ghost wandered for seven years and forgotten who really killed her? Do ghosts get confused too?

It’s more likely the killer found a way to escape that we just haven’t figured out yet.

Ghosts didn’t do this. There’s no way.

Zhao Mingkun searched through the dead man’s clothes and found his ID card and phone. The ID confirmed it was Liu Ruijie. The phone was an unlocked smartphone and definitely his. Thing is, the killer took Hu Pei’s phone but left Liu Ruijie’s. Why?

I turned to ask, “Do you know who owns this place? Did he rent, or did he buy it?”

The manager shook his head. “I’ll have to make a call. Give me a minute.”

Now it was just me and Zhao Mingkun in the room.

We looked at each other. She spoke first. “Looks like the killer didn’t take anything from Liu Ruijie. And he wasn’t as superstitious as Hu Pei. Still, he was scared out of his mind by whatever he saw.”

“Back then,” Zhao Mingkun said seriously, “Lü Zhiqiu’s eyes were gouged out. But Hu Pei’s weren’t. Do you think there’s any difference?”

Watching her get so serious, I suddenly wanted to laugh. “Zhao Mingkun, you’re looking more and more like a real detective. Pretty fun solving cases, isn’t it?”

She gave a soft laugh and nodded.

But her smile faded quickly, replaced by a look of quiet sadness.

After a moment, she said, “This might be the only time I ever get to play detective. At least I got a taste of what it’s like. If Shi Huacheng hadn’t adopted me, maybe I’d have had a real chance—like your little girlfriend?”

Hearing that, I felt a wave of sorrow. With my parents’ unusual backgrounds, I ended up in this mess too.

She asked, “Why did you want to do this job anyway?”

I’ve been asked that a lot. Guan Zengbin, Team Leader Shao, Mary, Gu Chen—they’ve all asked, and I’ve even asked myself. But no matter how many times I try to answer, I never can.

What am I really longing for?

Neither of us said a word.

After a while, Zhao Mingkun said quietly, “Maybe this will be the only time we work a case together. I get the feeling something big’s about to happen soon.”

“Wu Meng.” Suddenly, Zhao Mingkun hugged me.

Because her gloves had touched the corpse, she held her hands away from my back, careful not to let them touch me.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “These might be the happiest days I’ve had in thirty years.”

Never in my life did I think I’d be hugged like this—clutching me tight, with a corpse nearby, in a room crawling with the stench of death. It was a weird, uncomfortable hug—awkward, almost unsettling.

For just a moment, I wondered if maybe this was enough. Maybe if time stopped now, it’d be okay to stay in this embrace forever.