Upon seeing the exposed coffin, I noticed that Bai Jingren’s casket was made of toon wood. Typically, coffins crafted from Chinese toon are considered top-tier in quality. Most moderately well-off families would use toon wood for their “eternal homes.” In our local dialect, we don’t call coffins “coffins”; instead, we refer to them as “eternal homes,” implying that the deceased will reside there for a long time. Toon wood has a faint fragrance that repels insects, is durable, and grows easily in the southern regions. Other common materials include pine, cypress, and fir. The best, however, is nanmu wood, traditionally reserved for emperors—commoners who used it would face execution. The poorest option is poplar wood, which grows quickly and is cheap, often used by impoverished families. After death, everything becomes void, so why distinguish coffins by class?
Bai Jingren’s grave had been exposed, the red paint on it bubbling and losing its original luster.
The air remained heavy.
The experts quickly excavated the coffin, which was remarkably intact. Among them was a young female officer, Chen Tutu, freshly graduated from the police academy and specializing in forensic pathology. Her face was unnervingly dark.
A colleague chewing on dried cow dung asked, “Tutu, what’s wrong with your face? It’s terrifyingly dark.” Chen Tutu wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her white glove. “Is it really that dark?”
Listening to their conversation, I deduced that Chen Tutu was a forensic examiner. Why would a woman willingly chew animal dung and rush to the frontlines? She must have inhaled traces of corpse miasma and fallen victim to it.
Corpse miasma is less potent during the day, weakened by about seventy percent—not lethal, but enough to make an ordinary person bedridden for a week. I stepped forward and barked, “Step aside and put that cow dung in your mouth.”
Chen Tutu muttered, “Stop with the superstitions,” but her body betrayed her condition. She glared at me before climbing out of the grave and reluctantly placing the dried cow dung in her mouth.
I glanced at her, puzzled. Why had she only turned dark-faced instead of fainting after inhaling the miasma?
The area around the coffin was fully excavated. At the head of the coffin, I spotted two tiny holes from which two skeletal insects crawled out. I flicked my lighter and burned them with a sizzle. Then, I pulled out a paper-wrapped bundle from my cloth bag and sealed the coffin with steamed glutinous rice, preventing any more miasma from escaping.
Using iron hooks, we reached the bottom of the coffin, tied ropes around it, and threaded two long wooden poles through.
Four people stood on each side of the poles—eight in total. When everyone was ready, I shouted, “Lift the coffin!” The eight strained, their faces reddening as they chanted in unison. Yet, Bai Jingren’s coffin didn’t budge.
“Maybe they used too much lime when sealing it,” Wu Zhen grumbled as he stepped forward to help.
Still, it wouldn’t move. “This is eerie. Looks like Bai Jingren is refusing to cooperate.” Blocking his miasma had likely stirred resentment. I untied the three boning knives from my waist.
*Thud, thud, thud…* The knives struck the coffin lid, forming an equilateral triangle. The one with the copper coin gleamed brightly.
Above us, a few damned crows cawed. A mysterious gust of wind swept through. After the knives landed, I roared, “Stay put, or I won’t be polite!” Seeing my ferocity, the others felt reassured—though they couldn’t see the sweat soaking my back and feet.
Zhang Dagan, wearing his liberation shoes, kicked the coffin with brute force.
“One, two, three!” Everyone strained together.
The four red chopsticks trembled violently…
Finally, with collective effort, we lifted Bai Jingren’s coffin from the grave, moved it a few steps forward, and set it down on level ground.
Shen Yihu chuckled. “Honey, I lied earlier—I wasn’t playing cards. We needed someone to curse for the case.” He pocketed his Nokia phone.
Bai Guangde asked, “Grandson of the Long family, what now?”
I replied, “Don’t rush. His resentment hasn’t been resolved—he won’t rest peacefully. Look, what do you see from here?” Bai Guangde squinted toward Baishui Village. “Isn’t that the madman’s rundown courtyard?”
As I spoke, my hands weren’t idle. I unraveled all the red thread from my bag, winding it around the coffin eighteen times until none remained. Then, I placed an old-fashioned counterweight on the coffin’s head—symbolically pinning Bai Jingren inside.
“Stay put. I’ll deal with you later. Chief Wu, assign two men to guard it. Officer Shen, it’s time to make the arrest.” I finished my task.
Wu Zhen’s face turned ashen. “M-master… Please don’t leave me here…”
I grinned. “With the counterweight and knives, you’ll be fine.” Zhang Dagan lit a Baisha cigarette and said calmly, “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with Chief Wu and enjoy the scenery.”
Shen Yihu nodded. “Chief Wu, hang in there. Everyone else, move out!” Chen Tutu, whose face had been blackened earlier, was now pale. Removing her mask revealed a strikingly beautiful woman.
I wondered: *Why would such a lovely woman with such delicate hands choose forensic work? What man would marry her knowing those hands touched corpses daily? Would he dare share a bed with her?*
Shen Yihu asked, “Officer Chen, are you okay?” She replied coldly, “Fine. Much better.”
Bai Guangde and the villagers bolted downhill like the wind. If not for my “master” reputation, I’d have outrun them. The experts spat out the cow dung, looking relieved.
Shen Yihu stared at me. “Why haven’t you spat yours out?”
I frowned. “Actually, I made a mistake earlier. You only needed to sniff it, not chew it.” Shen Yihu’s face darkened, his fist clenching—but he held back.
In Baishui Village, our hurried footsteps echoed on the stone paths. Dogs were tied up, and even chickens and ducks had retreated indoors. The village fell silent—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
As we walked, a thought struck me: *The refrigerator… that coffin-like fridge. Huang’s body vanished. Did the madman Bai Jingren dig up his wife’s corpse?* The idea sent a chill down my spine.
I called out, “One last thing—who knows the madman Bai Jingren’s monthly electricity bill?” Shen Yihu replied, “Hold on, I’ll check.”
Chen Tutu, now breathing fresh air, had regained her rosy complexion. I couldn’t help but stare. She snapped, “Keep looking, and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”
I stuck out my tongue. Suddenly, a foul odor hit me. “Officer Chen, wait up!” Following the stench, I found an elderly woman with wrinkled skin like tree bark, soaking freshly made tofu in fermented brine—likely preparing stinky tofu. Despite her age, her eyes were sharp and shrewd.
Spotting the brine, I had an idea. “Granny, can I borrow some of this?”
She smiled. “Ah, the Long family’s grandson. This brine is a priceless treasure, passed down from my grandmother—used exclusively for stinky tofu for over a century.” She refused to part with much, but after I offered twenty yuan, she reluctantly poured half a jar.
Leaving her house, I nearly tripped—almost wasting another twenty. Rejoining Shen Yihu, he said, “Last month, the madman’s electricity bill was nearly a hundred yuan. Strange—he lives alone, no rice cooker, no TV. Why so much?”
The final puzzle piece clicked into place.
I exclaimed, “This is a love story—a rural love story!”
Chen Tutu and Shen Yihu stared at me. “A *love* story?”
The madman Bai Jingren’s house was surrounded. Children were pulled indoors, dogs locked up, and even the free-roaming poultry had vanished. The village was dead silent—you could hear a fart from miles away.
Shen Yihu drew his pistol from his black bag. Since Widow Wang’s beheading, Bai Jingren hadn’t left his home—only smoke from his chimney at dawn and dusk hinted at his presence.
It was as if he *wanted* to be caught. Shen Yihu had three arrest plans, one involving Bai Guangde luring him out. Bai Guangde, having downed two shots of liquor, was drenched in sweat, his voice shaky and hair disheveled.
Approaching the house, I broke out in goosebumps. The malevolent aura around Bai Jingren’s home was even stronger than before.
At exactly 3:13 PM…
A crescent moon appeared in the daytime sky.
I said, “Officer Shen, no need for Uncle to call him out. Cut the power—he’ll come to us.”
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