Chapter 38: Another Corpse

2022-05-20

It wasn’t Lao Liu who did the killing—because Dadan pulled out a burlap sack.

It was a fertilizer bag once, but now they’d repurposed it for burial goods. Same bag, but its contents changed, so did its value.

This was the gang’s second reason for coming here.

Brother Wei Two peered into the sack, his face knitting up tight. He fished out a jade artifact, rolling it in his hands. “Qian Er, looks like Lao Liu isn’t behind this. He didn’t take a single thing with him. So if it wasn’t Lao Liu, who killed San? And where did Lao Liu go?”

The others fell silent, murmuring among themselves.

I pulled Guan Zengbin down to sit next to me, thinking through all the details.

The singing female corpse, the Chu Mei everyone kept talking about. And Zhao Mingkun, the queen who’d shown up in Jiazi County for who-knows-what. Six ‘fellow apprentices’ that barely felt like a real team.

Somehow this little Jiazi County had drawn all these people here.

I watched the group out of the corner of my eye. Around here, everyone had the same three words written across their faces: ‘can’t be trusted.’

San left around eleven. The pallbearers got the coffin to the foot of the mountain by eleven thirty. In that window, half an hour tops, how did the killer manage to commit murder and hide the body? When did the coffin crew set out, and did they stop along the way?

It’s all a tangled mess, and stuck in this identity, I can’t just ask for help. Digging into this will be a headache.

I wondered if Team Leader Shao and his group had gotten the office in Linfen set up. Was Gu Chen already hiding in the shadows?

And what would these people do next? If they tried to run, how could I make them stay?

Brother Wei Two and the others must’ve reached a decision. He stood, cupped his hands at us, and said, “Little Wu, Miss Zhao. With things like this, trouble’s coming fast. We’re lucky to have recovered San’s corpse—it was a close call. The villagers will soon realize we’re imposters.”

“Then none of us will get away.” As he spoke, Brother Wei Two pulled a jade piece from the bag and tossed it to me. “Wu, you got caught up here and I can’t really do much to help you. This jade is worth a few hundred at least. Call it my apology as a brother.”

I caught the jade, handed their dagger back, and said, “San died a brutal death. We can’t just let this go…”

Brother Wei Two waved me off. “We six aren’t blood brothers, but we all had the same master. If San was brutally killed, I have to settle this score. For safety’s sake, I say we split up. You and I are used to the mountain, they’ll never catch us there.”

Though we were near Brother Wei Two when it happened and couldn’t have taken action, they still didn’t trust us. Pushing to travel together would only make things worse. As long as they stayed in Jiazi County, though, it’d be easier to keep tabs.

Brother Wei Two then turned to Zhao Mingkun: “Miss Zhao, we helped you this time, took your money, but now someone’s dead. The person you’re looking for probably won’t show up. We’ll find a chance to pay you back. When I, Wei Changfeng, say something, I mean it.”

Before Zhao Mingkun could reply, Wang Ergou crawled at my feet barking like a dog: “Woof woof woof!”

At that same moment, the ethereal singing floated in again. It was a woman’s song—old, sorrowful, impossible to trace. We all tensed, scanning the courtyard. Even though her voice was soft and sweet, it made my skin crawl.

“Go!” Zhao Mingkun yelled, already making for the courtyard gate.

We stepped outside—and froze at what we saw.

A blood-soaked figure stood facing the gate.

“Who goes there!” Brother Wei Two couldn’t help but shout.

There was no way to tell who it was from their face.

I circled around behind the body and saw that a steel rod had been driven up into its spine, its base jammed into the dirt so the corpse stood upright. The stench of blood hit like a punch to the brain. There was no smell of rot—the body was fresh.

The missing skin made it clear—the fatal wound was in the chest, right where a dagger had been stabbed deep. From the cut, only a few centimeters long with jagged edges, it looked like some patterned dagger had made it. The corpse’s left arm also had long, shallow slashes—probably the same weapon.

The corpse’s fist still gripped a dagger—one that matched the set the six brothers each carried. Even now in death, his right hand clutched it tight.

Brother Wei Two and the others crowded close. I stepped back to Guan Zengbin and asked, “What do you make of it?”

“The body’s just started to stiffen up,” Guan Zengbin whispered. “I’d say he’s been dead about an hour.”

I checked the time—12:40 at night.

So he must’ve died around 11:40, while San died nearer 11:00. Only half an hour between them. Was it the same killer? If so, who?

Everyone was focused on the body, no one paying any attention to us.

Guan Zengbin went on, “The cause of death is the stab to his chest. The cut may be short, but it’s deep. Looks like a lung got punctured—he probably died from suffocation and massive bleeding.”

“And look at his hand, the way he’s still holding the dagger,” she whispered. “That’s called local death spasm. His hand muscles never relaxed after death, so he must’ve gripped it tightly right to the end.”

Judging by the wounds, the victim probably put up a fight.

I closed my eyes, replayed what must’ve happened.

If I were the killer, I’d walk side by side with the victim in the dark, slipping my dagger from my pocket. In that blackness, he wouldn’t notice. Then I’d spin, stabbing with my right hand. The victim blocks with his left arm—leaving those long slashes. I push his arm aside and lunge, but the victim’s already grabbed his own dagger and tries to stab me. Too slow—mine sinks straight into his chest. He looks at me, disbelief flooding his face.

I opened my eyes. Realization struck.

Two people walking together like that at night—they must’ve known each other. Strangers would always keep their distance.

“What are you two up to?” Zhao Mingkun turned, seeing me and Guan Zengbin.

I held Guan Zengbin’s hand. “Nothing. She got frightened, so I’m helping her calm down.”

Qian San glanced around, then said, “The body’s still gripping our dagger, and only the six of us have those. San’s killer took his, Lao Liu had one. Doesn’t that make this Lao Liu’s corpse, skinned with San’s dagger?”

Qian San reached for the rod pinning the body upright.

“This is Lao Liu?” I frowned. “Can’t even tell.”

True enough—the face was mangled beyond recognition.

Brother Wei Two stopped Qian San. “Aside from the rest of us, who else knew this address? Maybe the killer got it from Lao Liu. Looks like someone’s targeting us. Maybe San didn’t talk, so they just cut his throat and ended him!”

“Was it a ghost?” Dadan muttered, glancing around. “We all heard that song. The villagers say Chu Mei is back—maybe she’s out for us.”

“Maybe it’s about that thing?” Qian Er muttered under his breath.

“Boss, over here! Someone wrote something in blood,” Wang Ergou called out.

We followed his voice and sure enough, found bloody writing on the wall outside: “I know what you did.”

Whoever wrote it clearly knew Brother Wei Two’s crew and was out for revenge.

So what did these people do before?

After reading the words, the gang’s faces went dark and stormy. Brother Wei Two hurried over. “You two should go your own way. Whatever this is, it’s about us, not you. Goodbye—till our paths cross again.”

With a wave, he and his crew disappeared into the night.

They had built their name in Linfen. Locals, old-timers—they must have made plenty of enemies. Was there some secret between these men and Jiazi County? And who was Chu Mei? Why did the villagers fear her so much? Looks like we’ve stumbled into a real mess.

I glanced at the body one last time. “Let’s get out of here too.”