Chapter 37: Just Like Zhao Mingkun

2022-05-20

“It has to be Lao Liu’s doing.” Qian San clutched the few remaining hairs on his head, scowling. “The stuff we took from the tomb, Lao Liu must’ve run off with it. We should hurry back—maybe we can still catch that traitor.”

With that, Qian San jumped up, ready to leave.

But Qian Er grabbed his younger brother, smoothing the few strands of hair he had into the middle of his scalp. “I doubt it’s that simple. We’ve had that stuff for days, not just today—so why would Lao Liu suddenly make a move now? What’s so different about today?”

His words carried a hidden meaning that wasn’t lost on me—Qian Er was clearly starting to suspect us.

As his words hung in the air, Brother Wei Two and the others all turned to look at me and Guan Zengbin.

Qian Er went on, “But Miss Zhao only got here yesterday.”

Zhao Mingkun gave Qian Er a sidelong glance. Her voice was calm: “Whatever the problem is, let’s discuss it when we get back.”

“What about San’s body?” Dadan, who’d been silent until now, finally spoke up.

Everyone turned to Brother Wei Two—he was clearly the group’s leader, and only he could make the call. His eyes landed on me, then slid to Zhao Mingkun. I could tell Qian Er’s words had worked; even if Brother Wei Two did trust me before, a seed of doubt had been planted.

“What do you think, Qian Er?” Brother Wei Two seemed at a loss himself.

Qian Er glanced down the mountain at the chaotic crowd. “First, we need to get San’s body back. After that, we can stop them from calling the police. A ghost marriage is small potatoes, but a dead body is big trouble. If they call the cops, we’ll never be able to retrieve San’s corpse.”

“So what now?” Dadan looked down toward the commotion, clearly anxious. “How are we supposed to get the body back?”

Qian Er smirked. “Simple. We pretend.”

Twenty minutes later.

“We got a call—what’s going on here?” Qian Er asked the crowd, which was still in chaos.

The villagers, all rattled, heard Qian Er and didn’t question him. The groom’s mother piped up, “I don’t know! My son was the one in the coffin—how did it end up like this? We don’t recognize this person at all!”

“Alright!” Qian Er called out. “Take the body away. We’ll go back and handle the investigation.”

With that, several men lifted the coffin and started to leave.

“Wait, hold on…” someone tried to stop them.

“What’s your problem?” Zhao Mingkun shot them a hard look.

No one dared move a muscle.

Qian San kept his eyes on me and Guan Zengbin, making sure we didn’t try anything funny.

Suddenly a chilly gust swept through, snuffing out all the candles in the mourning tent. Darkness closed in, and by the pale moonlight, I could only make out shapes a few feet away. Anything further was swallowed by shadows.

The crowd exploded, shouting in panic.

A ghostly, drifting melody echoed from within the tent. I knew that sound too well—when the female corpse had been sitting in the bridal sedan, she’d sung this same tune. But I never expected to hear it again now.

Was the dead singing again?

“It’s that song!” someone yelled. “She’s back—she’s really back!”

“Run! Run! Chu Mei is back! Chu Mei is back!” another voice wailed.

As the shouts spread, the villagers bolted like mad, scattering in all directions, terrified of this person named Chu Mei.

“Go!” Qian Er shouted.

Taking advantage of the chaos, we hoisted the coffin and hurried toward the county town.

Half an hour later, we finally made it back to the courtyard.

Brother Wei Two slammed the gates shut behind us, then barked, “Hand over your phones—now!”

I handed mine over without a hint of hesitation. I patted Guan Zengbin on the shoulder too, signaling for him to do the same. This was no time to go head-to-head with these guys—especially since Gu Chen wasn’t here. We’d just have to wait and see how things played out for now.

Brother Wei Two seemed satisfied we were playing nice and didn’t give me any trouble. “Old Wu, you know how it is right now. Qian Er’s got a point—Lao Liu’s been with us for ten years, and we didn’t just grab the stuff from the tomb yesterday. This is probably more complicated than we think. Until we figure it out, just cooperate.”

I nodded, smiling. “Of course. I just got here today, after all.”

Brother Wei Two got what I meant, clapped me on the shoulder, and left it at that.

“Miss Zhao,” he said, moving over to Zhao Mingkun and holding out his hand.

Zhao Mingkun flashed a sweet smile, her dimples making her look surprisingly cute. She put her phone in Brother Wei Two’s outstretched hand—but before he could grab it, Zhao Mingkun drove her knee up hard and smashed it right into his gut. Brother Wei Two doubled over, groaning in pain.

No one was expecting Zhao Mingkun to make a move. Dadan was the first to react. As Brother Wei Two bent over, Dadan charged at her, all bulk and brawn—if he hit her, that’d be bad news for Zhao Mingkun.

But she was even quicker, her leg lashing out and catching Dadan in the ribs, sending him crashing to the floor, writhing in agony.

Not missing a beat, Zhao Mingkun took a quick step forward and stomped straight down on Qian San’s neck, pinning him against the wall.

It might sound like a mess of fancy moves on paper, but really, it all happened in an instant. By the time I came to my senses, two lay sprawled on the ground, and Zhao Mingkun already had the other two under control.

Swiping the sweat from her brow, Zhao Mingkun said coolly, “You suspect me? I’ve given you more money than anything buried in that tomb ever was worth. Use your brains, people—I hope you all have one. If my brother or I were traitors, we’d have run the moment we were on the mountain.”

“Come on over here—help me check them for weapons.” Zhao Mingkun curled her finger at me.

I nodded, went over, and rifled through everyone’s clothes, finding a few daggers and reclaiming my own phone and Guan Zengbin’s while I was at it.

All four daggers were identical.

I couldn’t help but marvel—Zhao Mingkun really wasn’t your average woman. Just a second ago we were hopelessly outnumbered, and now, in a heartbeat, she’d taken control. I take back what I said before—one Zhao Mingkun could easily flatten five of me.

She perched herself on the coffin lid and glanced at all of us. “Let’s get one thing clear—if I really wanted to kill you, it’d be no different than squashing bugs. Little brother, bring me that dagger and check if the wound on his neck matches.”

I moved closer to the coffin, examining the dead body inside.

It was definitely San—no doubt about it. He was covered from head to toe in the blood he’d coughed up. Other than a wound on his throat, there wasn’t a scratch on him. That had to be the fatal injury.

Under the glow from a nearby lamp, I took a close look at the wound on his neck. It was deep and long—way more than a short blade like these daggers could do.

Zhao Mingkun took the dagger from me and asked, “You six brothers all carry the same kind of knife?”

Brother Wei Two, still hurting from earlier, grumbled from the corner, “Yeah, we all have one.”

She nodded, pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket, slid them on, and started examining San’s body. She poked at the wound on his throat, then checked him over thoroughly.

“This knife didn’t kill him. Looks more like a kitchen knife did the job,” Zhao Mingkun said, still studying the corpse. “But San’s dagger is missing—the killer took it.”

Then she stared at the inside of the coffin lid. I followed her gaze and saw it was covered in scratch marks from fingernails.

It wasn’t hard to picture what happened—San’s windpipe had been cut, he couldn’t cry out. But sheer will to live made him claw at the coffin lid until he died.

San died in utter hopelessness and terror.

My curiosity about Zhao Mingkun only grew. Always escaping from Team Leader Shao, a master fighter and now piecing together evidence like a pro—what a shame someone like her ended up on this path.

Zhao Mingkun turned and caught me staring, flashing a sweet, mischievous smile. “What’s the matter? Getting a crush on me already?”

I teased back, “You sure seem like the queen of this stuff—pretty professional, huh?”

“Ha!” Zhao Mingkun laughed out loud, unrestrained. “I’ve been an orphan since I was a kid. Used to want to be a force for justice, but that’s easier said than done. In the end, whether you’re killing or saving, there’s really not much difference.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Her story was exactly like mine. A strange, deep emotion stirred inside me.

The look in Zhao Mingkun’s eyes told me she felt the same—there was weariness there, and a loneliness I knew all too well.

We spend our whole lives trying to be ourselves, but this world is quick to slap us with all kinds of labels.

Zhao Mingkun and I—we’re the same sort of people.