03 The Dead Kill the Living

After watching the man who vanished from the surveillance footage, a chill ran through me—an instinctive dread that seemed to stem from the very depths of my soul. Perhaps it was because, deep down, I felt that he had cast a shadow over my childhood. Although I had no actual memory of this man, I was convinced that all my dissociative identity disorder and other twisted behaviors were caused by him. He was the one who shaped the person I became—a madman.

Just as I was shivering with unease, Qinghe Fang spoke up beside me. "Jin Ze, Chen Mu, do either of you recognize the man in the video?"

Hearing Fang’s words, I suddenly realized something: the last time Jin Ze and I saw the video of my childhood—the one where infants were being boiled—only the two of us had watched it. That video was secretly copied by Jin Ze from Fang’s own collection. In theory, Fang should have believed that neither Jin Ze nor I knew anything about that strange man in the footage.

I inwardly panicked, thinking that our secret had been exposed—Jin Ze’s theft from Fang was about to be uncovered.

I glanced at Jin Ze discreetly, but he was far calmer than me. He just squinted slightly, as if pondering how to explain things to Fang.

Soon, however, Fang laughed heartily and said, "Jin Ze, Chen Mu, you both work under me. Do you think I don’t see through your little schemes? Some things I just haven’t bothered to reveal because I think they’re reasonable. No need to spell everything out. I know Jin Ze has been to my secret house, and you’ve both seen that childhood training video. As the head of the cold case unit, there are things I can’t handle personally. But Jin Ze is such a capable man that he’s saved me a lot of trouble."

Fang’s words made everything clear to me. It turned out many things were calculated by him. How could the head of the cold case unit so easily let Jin Ze steal his stuff? It was deliberate—meant to be discovered by Jin Ze and then seen by us.

Actually, Jin Ze had already suspected this and told me before.

We are all smart enough to leave some things unspoken, so we never argued over this.

Soon, Jin Ze asked Fang, "Captain Fang, since you’ve had that video for so long, have you investigated the identity of this man?"

Fang replied directly, "Yes, we’ve checked. His photo was uploaded and compared against the database, but there were no significant findings. His image isn’t in the system. That means either he’s someone who never integrated into normal society and left no official records, or he’s a particularly special case—someone whose existence has been secretly erased. Even we in the police can’t find him."

Jin Ze nodded but didn’t press further. Many things are time-sensitive, so he wanted to rush to the site where the hearse had hit the pregnant woman as soon as possible. The sooner, the better, since crucial clues could be destroyed at any moment.

As the team leader, Fang didn’t need to go personally, but he suggested Jin Ze take me along. What he said next touched me deeply: since I had helped the police before, they felt it necessary to help me rebuild a normal social circle. So he asked Jin Ze to look after me.

From Fang’s tone, it seemed he no longer worried about me relapsing into dissociative identity disorder or awakening that twisted persona.

Soon Jin Ze took me out of the office building and drove me to the traffic police station. The hearse involved in the accident had been sent there, not to the police bureau.

I remained silent all the way, weighed down by the grim fact that three lives had been lost in one night—a pregnant woman and two infants. It was suffocating. And the killer had somehow dragged me into this case, which only made me more anxious.

Suddenly, Jin Ze asked, "Chen Mu, what exactly is your relationship with your father? During the murder game case, your father didn’t seem to have any investigative value, so we ignored that. You rarely mention him, do you?"

I licked my lips, gathered my thoughts, then said, "It’s hard to explain. In my memories, my father is a quiet man. His care for me was silent but genuine. But I’ve lost some memories, so many feel vague. In short, my father was good to me. He’s an honest man. If the police can avoid disturbing him, please do. That’s my request."

Jin Ze glanced at me and said, "I’ll try. But for this case, we might have to involve him."

I was startled and asked what he meant.

Jin Ze explained, "From the looks of it, the killer is targeting babies, but for some reason, you’ve been dragged into it. I suspect it might relate to your childhood, even infancy. We have no record of your early years, so your father might need to cooperate."

I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing Jin Ze didn’t suspect my father of wrongdoing—he just wanted information.

After a brief silence, Jin Ze continued, "But something puzzles me. Since you were trained as an assassin by the Avengers and have dissociative identity disorder, your father would surely know. Why does he act as if nothing’s wrong? Chen Mu, has your father really never told you about this?"

I was confused, but soon explained, "My father worked away from home most of the time. I was alone often. He probably didn’t know about my training or joining the Avengers. After I left home, we had even less contact. When we did meet, maybe I felt safe with him, so my mental state improved and the dissociation stopped. To him, I was just a normal online writer. So he’s unaware."

Jin Ze nodded thoughtfully, his deep eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought.

I, too, was restless inside. I had always thought I was normal, but as the case deepened and my past was dredged up, I realized my memories often seemed blank or confused. Recent events were vivid, as if earlier memories didn’t truly belong to me. The murder game case was really when my real experiences began—a strange and incomprehensible feeling.

We soon arrived at the traffic police station. Jin Ze briefly spoke with the officer in charge, and a female officer quickly led us to see the hearse.

The guide was a lively young woman. I wasn’t sure if she volunteered because she thought Jin Ze and I were handsome, or if the male officers were teasing her by assigning her to the case. Either way, she looked nervous and frightened.

Near the hearse, I noticed scattered ashes—someone had recently burned joss paper by the vehicle.

Jin Ze asked the female officer, "Why the paper burning? Does the traffic police really believe in that stuff?"

She immediately looked terrified and whispered, "Officers, maybe you don’t know the full story. Rumor has it this case isn’t the work of a human, but of a restless spirit. It’s said the ghost in the hearse killed the pregnant woman."

Jin Ze frowned deeply. I knew he despised such superstitions.

He didn’t argue and soon opened the hearse door.

Inside was a coffin.

Having spent time with Jin Ze, my first thought was that the coffin might be the key.

Though the surveillance footage showed no one else in the vehicle, if someone hid inside the coffin and quietly emerged, crawling to the driver’s seat, they could have secretly controlled the hearse to cause the accident.

Jin Ze seemed to think so too. He pushed the coffin lid and found it was not nailed shut—just lightly covered.

He slid the lid open but then froze.

I instinctively leaned in to look and was shocked.

There was indeed a person inside—but not alive. The corpse was badly decomposed, face darkened, hollow eye sockets, eyes bulging unnaturally. The coffin emitted a faint, foul stench.

At that moment, the female officer whispered in a terrified voice, "You two are brave, but be careful of possession. They say it was this ghost who drove the hearse and killed the pregnant woman. He was her husband, apparently. Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that—please don’t come after me…"

Her words startled me, and I instinctively stepped back. Could it really be a dead man driving to kill?

Jin Ze turned sharply toward her, seemingly wanting to ask more about this corpse being the victim’s husband.

Then suddenly, Jin Ze bent deeply into the coffin and reached out to pull the corpse out...