08 Video Recording

Soon, I would understand why my situation was anything but simple. The moment I heard Jin Ze's words, an uneasy feeling washed over me—it was as if he knew something I didn’t. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. It wasn’t that I was afraid of having committed a crime; after all, I’d done nothing wrong, and a clear conscience fears no shadow. What truly worried me was the prospect of being framed for something, to the point where even if I jumped into the Yellow River, I could not wash myself clean.

Still, I didn’t immediately press Jin Ze for answers. I simply locked the door and left with him. To his credit, he was considerate enough to remember I hadn’t eaten dinner and took me to the Hui Street for a bowl of lamb and flatbread. By the time the sky had darkened, he finally led me to our destination.

To my surprise, our destination turned out to be the same funeral home—the crematorium we had visited earlier that morning. Jin Ze parked the car in the exact spot as before. We didn’t get out. As I sat there, a memory surfaced: Jin Ze’s cryptic words from earlier. He had said, “Day knows nothing of night’s darkness.” At the time, I hadn’t understood, but now the meaning became clear. Some truths are invisible in the light of day; only under the cover of night can they be seen. And now, it was night.

But what truth awaited us here?

I was still pondering when Jin Ze suddenly spoke. “Chen Mu, let me ask you one more time. Have you ever been here before?”

His tone was interrogative, and I felt as if I were on trial. If I denied it, would he think I was lying? But how could I admit to something I hadn’t done? I shook my head resolutely and answered, “No, never.”

Jin Ze didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the subject. “Alright. Let’s talk about something else. Do you remember what I said before, about your girlfriend’s case being merged with another case we’re investigating?”

I nodded. I’d overheard Jin Ze and He Ping discussing it that morning—it seemed their cold case unit had taken over.

But what did that have to do with me? I didn’t hesitate to say, “I know you’re an expert in psychology and skilled at breaking down people’s defenses. But I’m not a criminal. You need to keep that in mind. I’m here to assist you, to help with the investigation. So I hope you’ll treat me with the same openness, and stop going in circles. Just say what you mean. What exactly are you trying to get at?”

Jin Ze smiled gently, unperturbed. He reached up to the sun visor, pulled out a disc, and slid it into the car’s DVD player.

I watched him, suspicious, having no idea what he was up to.

But soon, the images on the screen captured my full attention. It was a phone recording, evidently burned onto the disc, and the scene was unmistakably this very crematorium.

The video began at the staff entrance of the crematorium, late at night. The sky was pitch black except for the dim light above the door. Suddenly, the camera jolted, and a group of people came into view—seven figures, walking in a line.

These seven looked bizarre. They stood in a perfectly straight row, all dressed in loose, blue-green robes. Most striking were the first and last in the line: both wore large robes with hoods pulled low, completely obscuring their faces.

The five in the middle were bareheaded, their faces clearly visible—each looked pale and listless, two with their eyes closed as if sleepwalking.

Strangest of all, those five held their arms out straight, and their gait was unnatural—their legs never bent, their bodies seemed to be dragged forward as if pulled by an invisible string. Lifeless and stiff, occasionally they hopped or shuffled ahead, evoking the image of movie zombies from old Hong Kong films.

I’d mentioned before—childhood nightmares had left me with a primal fear of zombies. Seeing this scene, I shrank back instinctively, almost unable to watch.

At that moment, Jin Ze spoke. “Look closely at these people. They’ve been dead for days.”

His words sent a chill down my spine, bladder tightening so sharply that I nearly lost control. I stared at Jin Ze in disbelief. Was he saying these people were already dead? How could corpses walk?

Jin Ze continued, “That’s right. They’re dead. Their bodies were sent here, but for certain reasons, weren’t cremated—kept in the morgue instead. But a week ago, they walked out of the crematorium together. This is the cold case we’ve merged with Fang Lin’s and others—one of a series.”

No wonder it was called a ‘cold case,’ I thought. The dead walking—what could be more mysterious?

Suddenly, two words flashed through my mind: ‘corpse driving.’ Surely this was the stuff of movies and novels?

I quickly asked, “So corpse driving really exists? But how is your corpse case linked to my girlfriend’s? What’s the connection?”

Jin Ze chuckled, replying, “There are no supernatural forces in this world. No matter how strange a crime appears, it’s always the work of man. This isn’t mystical corpse driving—it’s a case of body theft.”

I pressed, “But if it’s not corpse driving, how did dead bodies walk out on their own?”

Jin Ze focused on the footage. “Look at the first and last in the line. Their faces are hidden because they don’t dare show themselves—they’re alive. Only the five in the middle are dead. The bodies are connected by a black elastic tube, running under their arms, which keeps their arms straight. The two living people at either end carry the tube on their shoulders, supporting the five corpses upright. As they walk, it looks just like the scenes in those movies.”

On closer inspection, I realized that, although their loose clothing obscured the tube, Jin Ze’s words made sense. When the bodies hopped, I could faintly see the tube lifting beneath the fabric. So that was the secret of these ‘walking corpses’—like a stretcher, but upright!

I had to admit, I was deeply impressed by Jin Ze’s deductive skills. What seemed a supernatural mystery had been thoroughly unraveled.

The video showed the procession leaving the crematorium, heading into the distance. The person filming followed for a while, then the recording ended abruptly.

Jin Ze explained, “This was recorded by the night-shift security guard. He saw the scene and thought it was corpse driving, so he didn’t dare confront them. The thieves counted on that fear to pull off the theft.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “But what does this have to do with my girlfriend’s case? Why are they being investigated together?”

Jin Ze turned and fixed me with a piercing gaze. “Because of you.”

I didn’t understand. He rewound the footage about thirty seconds and paused.

The image was now outside the crematorium, near a small grove. The thieves had just carried the bodies there, and in the still frame I suddenly noticed a figure crouched in the trees, spying on the ‘walking corpses.’

He looked for all the world like the mastermind, the orchestrator of the whole affair.

And as I saw his face, though the image was a little blurry, I froze. A cold sweat broke out along my spine, making my scalp prickle.

The man hiding in the trees—was me.

I was dumbstruck. My mouth fell open, and for a moment, my mind went blank.

Jin Ze silently took out two items: a pair of cold handcuffs and a card from a psychiatric hospital.

He placed them beside me and said, “Chen Mu, I’m giving you one last chance to answer me. Based on your answer, I’ll decide whether to arrest you or take you for a psychiatric evaluation. Chen Mu, have you ever been here before?”