Starting with dissecting ghost stories

Shen Xing glanced at the floor. The light pink floor tiles, which had just been mopped, still had water stains, and Shen Xing's footprints were clearly imprinted on them. Apart from him, no one else should have entered the infirmary just now.

He walked to the door and peeked into the corridor outside. The infirmary was on the first floor of the administration building, far from the teaching building, and there would be no students or teachers there at this time of school dismissal.

Shen Xing returned to his seat and looked at the painting again. He had seen this painting countless times, and he was certain that the corpse's eyes were originally closed.

At this very moment, the corpse remained open, staring at him with its empty eyes.

What is this?

interesting.

Shen Xing's previously empty and dull heart was stirred up again, just like when he first saw the pale skin transplanted onto his hand could wrinkle and stretch according to his will.

It seems that it's not just me who has some flaws; the world has them too, to some extent.

Shen Xing locked the door to the infirmary, turned on the light, and drew the curtains.

He pulled open the drawer of his desk, took out his phone, flipped open the cover, and turned on the camera.

He bought the Samsung E708 for 4,500 yuan, but at that time he was not a school doctor with a monthly salary of 1,800 yuan, but a chief forensic doctor with a monthly salary of 3,500 yuan. This phone was not something he couldn't afford, since he didn't have bad habits like buying a house.

I don't have time to go back and get my camera right now, so I'll just use my phone for now.

click-

click-

As Shen Xing pressed the middle shutter button, the phone emitted a sound simulating a magnesium stripe flash—even though it didn't actually have a flash.

Just like taking photos of a crime scene, Shen Xing took photos of the portrait from different angles.

When the inspection was completed, the 300,000-pixel photos were not satisfactory. At best, they were just blurry outlines, distorted, noisy, and had significant image loss.

The final effect on the phone screen is a stark contrast between the pale corpse and the empty eye sockets, creating an eerie and sinister feeling just by looking at it.

pat-

Shen Xing flipped the phone back over and began to take out his "equipment".

He put on latex gloves and a mask, hung the stethoscope around his neck, and casually picked up a slightly yellowed ruler.

There are no operating room facilities here, so it's like using your phone to take pictures; you can only make do with what you have.

He moved his chair over and placed it under the picture frame. Standing on the chair, he stood in front of the painting and tried to gently touch the edge of the frame with a ruler.

Ordinary wood.

Shen Xing pressed his face almost against the wall, observing the seam between the picture frame and the wall. The picture frame was hung with nails, and there was a considerable gap in the middle. Through the gap, Shen Xing could see the scene on the other side of the picture frame.

Shen Xing tried gently inserting a ruler into the joint between the picture frame and the wall. He didn't feel any resistance. He even lifted the ruler slightly, causing the loose picture frame to wobble.

Each tentative exploration brought Shen Xing only ordinary feedback, as if he was expecting to encounter something.

Are you overthinking it?

But when Shen Xing left the chair, picked up an alcohol swab, and returned, the content of the picture in the frame changed again.

The pale corpse in the painting has sat up from the operating table, with a faint smile on its face, its empty eye sockets staring at the person outside the frame.

The sky outside was gradually darkening, and the security guard's signature cough could be faintly heard from the end of the corridor.

If you keep looking, this thing might just crawl out of the picture frame and wish Shen Xing a Happy New Year in advance.

Although he was very interested in this counterintuitive phenomenon, he knew that it would be very troublesome to explain it to people if he encountered them during his research.

After all, it would be difficult for him to explain to others that he was having an "academic exchange" with a painting.

Shen Xing glanced at the clock on the wall; time was running out.

Since this isn't the place for research, let's go somewhere else.

Without any hesitation, he reached out and took the picture frame off the wall, his movements as practiced as if he were taking off his own coat hanging on a hanger.

The frame wasn't heavy, just ordinary wood. The corpse inside seemed to have calmed down for the time being, remaining frozen in the picture in a sitting position.

Just bear with it for a moment, I'll take you to a nice place right away.

Shen Xing casually grabbed an old newspaper, wrapped it around the picture frame, tucked it under his arm, locked the door, and left.

……

The garage that Shen Xing rented was a distance from both the school and his home. The three places could be drawn into a triangle on the map. It was an underground garage in an old residential area.

It was dark and damp there, and no one wanted to go there except for rats, but for him, it was the best place to store his "toys" and tools.

After settling the painting in the garage, he went home first.

Pushing open the door, I found the house dark, with only the flickering light from the television in the living room.

Shen Yuan sat on the sofa, still in her school uniform, curled up into a small ball, like a wary cat.

Hearing the door open, she didn't move, but continued watching the TV screen, seemingly recognizing whose footsteps they were.

At this time of day, Shen Xing would usually be cooking in the kitchen.

But he only got home now, and he hasn't even changed his shoes yet.

Shen walked into the living room, took out a twenty-yuan bill from his pocket, pressed it with his finger, and gently pushed it to the center of the table.

"Buy something to eat by yourself tonight, I have something to do."

Shen Xing said those words and turned to leave.

Shen Yuan's gaze finally left the television and fell on the twenty-yuan note. The girl's brows furrowed very slightly.

Twenty yuan.

That's quite generous, enough for four days' worth of breakfast.

She looked at the figure at the door, carrying a handbag, preparing to close the door and leave.

Shen Yuan didn't care what she ate; what she cared about was the smell on Shen Xing earlier—the smell of disinfectant mixed with some kind of old dust, which she hated the most.

And the way he's acting right now...

A sense of indifference.

It wasn't the kind of "good brother," "good colleague," or "good school doctor" feeling that you usually pretend to be, but rather the kind of cold indifference that comes from completely letting go of the pretense.

This indifference was even more unsettling than his usual deadpan expression, as if he could forget everything except himself and his parents at any moment... Even at his parents' funeral, he maintained the same expression: indifferent and uncaring about everything.

"It's best not to come back."

Shen Yuan subconsciously raised her chin and retorted, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for Shen Xing to hear.

The door clicked shut.

Shen Yuan opened her mouth, but the moment the door closed, she regretted the words she had just blurted out. An indescribable feeling of suffocation welled up in Shen Yuan's heart. She couldn't imagine what she would do if Shen Xing really didn't come back.

After all, he was her only brother and only family member.

The complex emotions made her chest feel tight, and Shen Yuan continued to curl up on the sofa, hugging her knees tightly.

The room fell silent again, with only the twenty-year-old lying alone on the table, its corner curled up by the wind seeping in through the window crack.

……

Back in the garage, Shen Xing locked the roller shutter door.

The pale fluorescent light above his head turned on, instantly illuminating his private space.

There were no cars around. Various types of knives, saws, pliers, and some labeled chemical reagents were neatly arranged on the surrounding iron racks. The air was filled with a mixed smell of rust and formaldehyde, which made Shen Xing feel at ease.

He walked to the center of the garage.

There was a second-hand stainless steel dissection table that he had bought at great expense. Although it was quite old, he had wiped it so clean that it was so shiny that it reflected one's image.

That painting now lies quietly on the dissection table.

Shen Xing took off his coat, put on a dark rubber apron, and put on the latex gloves he hadn't had time to throw away in the infirmary.

He glanced at the painting again.

The corpse, which is the main subject of the painting, is still sitting, appearing unusually stiff and eerie within the originally complete composition.

For some reason, Shen Xing breathed a sigh of relief.

On his way from home to here, he felt "worried" countless times. He worried that when he returned, he would see normal prints of the paintings and that everything that had just happened was just his hallucination.

It's not a hallucination...that's really great.

"The environment is simple, but it'll have to do."

Shen Xing spoke softly, his tone as gentle as if he were comforting a patient about to go on stage.

"Let's begin."