The gluttonous little boy is four and a half years old, and even the wealthy family kneels down and

Yun Ziqian froze.

That hand was so cold it didn't feel like the temperature of a living person, yet the force gripping his wrist was astonishing, the knuckles as hard as iron hoops.

He tried to pull his hand back, but couldn't. A chill ran through him.

"Can you see it?"

He stared at the sunglasses on Sang Dong's face, his voice tense.

How can a blind person turn their head precisely in his direction? How can you reach out and grab his wrist so easily?

Sang Dong seemed not to hear the question, and simply repeated it again, his tone almost icy: "Take me to see his body."

Yun Ziqian's brows furrowed as he stared at the white cane in Sang Dong's hand, his voice suddenly turning somber:

"Those plaques...did you make them? The wooden plaques Yu Ziping buried, did you make them?"

"Is Yu Ziping's death related to you?"

Otherwise, how can you explain why he chased after Yu Ziping to the hospital and insisted on seeing his body?

Sang Dong finally reacted.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes behind his sunglasses seemingly looking at Yun Ziqian, and a very faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, it was impossible to tell whether it was a smile or something else.

"Take me to see the body," he said, "and I'll tell you."

Yun Ziqian stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes flashing with many thoughts, before finally giving in after a moment of silence.

The morgue is on the basement floor, and even during the day it has a cold, damp feel.

Yun Ziqian found the security guard he had met that afternoon, slipped him a pack of cigarettes, and said that the family wanted to see him one more time. The security guard hesitated for a moment before letting him through.

The moment the freezer was opened, a blast of cold air hit you.

Yu Ziping lay inside, his head dented, his face still bearing the expression of terror he had before death, his eyes slightly open, and his mouth agape as if he were shouting something.

Yun Ziqian turned his face away, feeling a little depressed.

Sang Dong took a step forward.

He took a pair of thin rubber gloves out of his pocket and slowly put them on, his movements so practiced that he didn't seem like a blind person.

Then he reached out, his fingertips first touching Yu Ziping's forehead, then moving down along his brow bone, bridge of his nose, and cheek.

Very slowly, very carefully.

From the wound on his head to the joints of his neck, then to his shoulders, arms, and fingers... he touched them with extreme care, not even missing the spaces between his fingers, as if he were using his hands to see every inch of skin clearly.

Yun Ziqian stood to the side with a frown, feeling inexplicably awkward.

Is this person able to see or not?

What are they doing now? What kind of fetish is touching a corpse?

Sang Zhi touched her for a full five minutes before finally withdrawing her hand.

"When did he die?" he asked, his voice low and echoing in the empty morgue.

Yun Ziqian hesitated for a moment, but still gave the time: "5:17 PM. It was captured by surveillance cameras."

Date of birth.

"...Lunar or solar calendar?"

"I want them both."

Yun Ziqian frowned, but still pulled up the information from the transcript on his phone and recited a series of dates.

He remembered Yu Ziping's ID information very clearly, after all, he had just given a statement that afternoon.

After listening, Sang Dong fell silent.

He stood in front of the freezer, his hands, gloved with rubber, hanging at his sides, his face expressionless, as if he were calculating something.

After a long while, he slowly took off his gloves, put them back in his pocket, picked up his white cane, and turned to walk out.

"Hey!" Yun Ziqian quickly caught up, "Didn't you say you'd tell me the truth? What exactly happened? Is Yu Ziping's death related to those Yin wooden tablets? Is it because of you—"

Sang Dong didn't stop.

He walked quickly with his cane, his steps so steady that he didn't seem like a blind person at all. He only uttered one sentence, his voice light and airy, yet it sent a chill down Yun Ziqian's spine:

"It's too late."

"What do you mean it's too late?" Yun Ziqian caught up with him in a few steps, reaching out to stop him. "Explain yourself clearly!"

He stood in front of Sang Dong, a tall and burly man who completely blocked his way.

Sang Dong stopped in his tracks.

He looked up, his sunglasses pointing at Yun Ziqian's face, and lingered there for a few seconds.

The corridor lights shone from behind him, casting a cold white reflection on his sunglasses, obscuring his eyes.

"You and that person are together," he suddenly said.

Yun Ziqian was taken aback: "Who is it?"

"That idiot and that kid."

These words were spoken so softly yet so vividly that Yun Ziqian immediately knew who they were talking about.

The only couple that could be a fool and a child is Yun Ziang and Xiao Jin.

Yun Ziqian looked at Sang Dong with a wary expression, feigning ignorance, and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen him," Sang Dong said in a flat voice, "You two smell the same. The smell of kinship."

He paused, then leaned forward slightly as if sniffing something, and asked, "Where's the child?"

Child.

Yun Ziqian's heart skipped a beat.

He took half a step back, his eyes turning cold: "Why are you asking this? Talk about Yu Ziping first."

Sang Dong seemed to chuckle softly.

"Yu Ziping?" he said. "He was going to die anyway. It has nothing to do with me, and nothing to do with you."

"What do you mean?" Yun Ziqian frowned even more. "What do you mean by 'he was going to die anyway'? He was a perfectly healthy person—"

"His birth chart is entirely Yin, with the Gui water element being weak. He also has the Seven Killings star in his chart, which is being clashed with, and this year is also a year of offending Tai Sui." Sang Dong's tone was as calm as if he were reading from a textbook. "With this kind of fate, a violent death is only a matter of time."

"He wouldn't have survived this month anyway."

Yun Ziqian felt a chill run down his spine.

He suddenly realized something: "If his death was within your expectations, why did you have to come and see his body?"

Sang Dong's action just now seemed to be confirming something.

"I'm not letting you leave until you explain yourself clearly." He took a step forward. "And what's your relationship with Zhou Kai of Qicheng Real Estate?"

Sang Dong did not answer.

He merely tilted his head slightly, as if listening to some distant sound, then his tone suddenly turned serious, carrying a hint of warning:

"Knowing so much, you must be looking for a death wish."

"I'm warning you, if you don't leave now, you won't be able to go back."

"What?" Yun Ziqian was about to ask further when Sang Dong suddenly reached out and pushed him away.

The force was astonishing. Yun Ziqian slammed into the wall and staggered back two steps. When he regained his footing and looked up, Sang Dong had already appeared as if in a flash, walking to the end of the corridor with his white cane.

He walked quickly, his back was thin, and he was dressed in all black, like a shadow.

Yun Ziqian wanted to chase after him, but as soon as he lifted his foot, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, as if someone was watching him from behind.

He turned around abruptly.

Behind me was an empty corridor, the morgue door was half-open, and the cold white light shone on the tiled floor; there was nothing there.

But the chill crept up his spine, making him shiver.

Yun Ziqian stood there, looking at the corner where Sang Dong had disappeared, and then looked back at the direction of the morgue. Cold sweat slowly seeped from his palms.

That's too late.

What exactly did Sang Dong mean by "too late"?

He clenched his fist and made a phone call to Yun Ziang as he walked out.

The phone rang for a long time before it was answered.

Yun Ziqian scolded, "Why did it take you so long to answer the phone!"

"I'm driving," Yun Zi'ang said, his voice tinged with displeasure. "What is it?"

Why does your voice sound so flustered?

"Is that...that young lady next to you?" Yun Ziqian asked, walking quickly forward with his head down.

Xiao Jin's childish voice suddenly rang out, "I'm nestled up here!!"

Upon hearing this voice, Yun Ziqian felt a sudden sense of relief.

"Xiao Jin," he called, "I've seen the blind man you're looking for."

"Ah!" Upon hearing this, Xiao Jin sat up straight in her child seat, excitedly looking at the car screen. "It's that older brother!"

"Is he alright?"

"Yu Ziping is dead," Yun Ziqian said, his breath coming in short gasps.

He always felt like someone was following him.

The phone suddenly went silent. Yun Ziqian called out in fear, "Xiao Jin?"

At this moment, Xiao Jin, who was in the car, leaned forward and put her face close to the car's screen, listening intently to something.

Her expression was somewhat serious, then she raised her voice and asked, "Where are you, grand-nephew?"

Yun Ziqian's palms were sweating. He answered truthfully, "Hospital, morgue."

"What the hell are you doing there?" Yun Ziang's surprised voice rang out.

Yun Ziqian gritted his teeth and cursed, "What can I do? Am I supposed to eat here?!"

Xiao Jin frowned and said anxiously, "Grand-nephew, there are so many footsteps!"

Upon hearing this, Yun Ziqian's heart nearly stopped, and his voice trembled, "I'm all alone in the corridor."

Xiao Jin instantly realized that her great-nephew was being targeted by a ghost.

She raised her voice to reassure him, "Don't be afraid, grand-nephew!"

"Recite after Xiao Jin!"

"What are you saying?" Yun Ziqian's voice trembled.

He didn't dare turn around, and his pace quickened subconsciously, but the corridor seemed endless, even though it wasn't this long when he came in.

The cold white lights receded one after another, casting his shadow on the tiles beneath his feet, but he always felt that there was something else beside his shadow.

"Recite after Xiaojin!" Xiaojin's voice came from the phone, sweet and childlike, yet surprisingly reassuring, "When no thought arises, all phenomena are empty; the three souls protect the body, and the seven spirits return to their origin—"

She would read a sentence, pause, and wait for Yun Ziqian to repeat after her.

Yun Ziqian gritted his teeth and walked quickly while repeating the words.

He's a materialist, and if someone had asked him to read this kind of thing before, he would have definitely thought it was feudal superstition. But now, the cold gaze on his back felt like needles pricking him.

"When a single thought does not arise, all phenomena are empty..." His voice trembled slightly, and by the third sentence, his tongue was almost tied in knots.

"Speak louder, grand-nephew!" Xiao Jin shouted on the other end of the phone, "If you speak too softly, the ghost won't hear you!"

Yun Ziqian took a deep breath and raised his voice: "Three souls protect the body, seven spirits return to their origin!"

He read it three times in a row.

As he read it for the last time, he suddenly felt the chill on the back of his neck dissipate.

The creepy feeling of being stared at disappeared completely, like the tide receding.

The lights in the corridor seemed to have brightened up, and the green exit sign for the stairwell was clearly lit up not far ahead.

He had been walking for ages and still couldn't see the exit.

Yun Ziqian let out a huge sigh of relief; his back was completely soaked.

He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, and said into his phone, "It's...it's gone. That feeling is gone."

"I knew it!" Xiao Jin's voice was smug. "Xiao Jin's spells are amazing!"

Yun Zi'ang's voice broke in: "You're really something, running to the morgue in the middle of the night, don't you want to live? When are you coming back?"

"Who's up so late at night?" Yun Ziqian was taken aback, looked up at the corridor window, and saw that it was completely dark outside.

He clearly remembered that it was evening when he entered the morgue, at most a little after six o'clock. How could it be completely dark so soon?

His heart sank again. Not daring to linger, he quickly headed towards the exit, walking briskly towards the stairwell.

The moment he pushed open the fire door, he subconsciously glanced back.

The corridor was empty, with incandescent lights on and the morgue door ajar; everything seemed normal.

Yun Ziqian shook his head, feeling that he might have been too traumatized today, and turned to go into the stairwell.

The fire door closed slowly with a soft click.

The corridor fell silent once more.

A few seconds passed.

At the end of the corridor around the corner of the morgue, in the shadows where the light didn't reach, a woman slowly stood up.

She was wearing a faded hospital gown, her long hair hanging down to cover most of her face, and she was standing barefoot on the cold tile floor.

She stood there quietly, facing the direction Yun Ziqian had left, without moving.

A cloudy, whitish eye and a pale, bluish face were visible through the parting of the long hair.

She stared intently at the direction of the fire door, her gray eyes trembling wildly.

The lights in the corridor flickered suddenly.