Chapter 169: The Seven Missing Corpses

Shen Yihu was a bit disappointed and said impatiently, “People turning into animals? It’s all nonsense.” I sneered, “The art of beast-making is an evil practice rarely seen in the world for years. This time, encountering both beast-making and ghost-raising, it seems like something big is about to unfold in Jiangcheng.”

Shen Yihu, with his keen instincts, naturally understood what I meant. He looked at me and said, “Are you suggesting this is related to the seven missing corpses?” I neither confirmed nor denied it, saying, “Let’s order something first.”

Uncle Jianguo ordered a pickled fish hotpot, saying the sour taste reminded him of his first love. He asked the waiter for two bottles of liquor to go with the hotpot, planning to talk while eating and drinking.

The liquor was a cheap, diluted spirit, costing five yuan a bottle.

Shen Yihu showed a hint of admiration, saying, “Uncle, you still remember the taste of your first love at your age.” Uncle Jianguo glared at him, “Who are you calling ‘uncle’? Don’t call me that. I’m only in my fifties.”

Shen Yihu, faced with the eccentric Uncle Jianguo, had no choice but to switch to calling him “big brother.” I wasn’t happy about this—our generational hierarchy was completely messed up. I called Officer Shen “big brother” and Uncle Jianguo “uncle,” but now Officer Shen was calling Uncle Jianguo “big brother.” What kind of logic was that?

Uncle Jianguo poured the liquor directly and said to Officer Shen, “You might as well call me ‘uncle.’ Since you’ve already called me that, let me toast you. I’ll drink as I please, but you finish yours.”

I sensed something was off. There was no prior conflict between Uncle Jianguo and Shen Yihu, so why were they butting heads as soon as they met? The only thing connecting them was Gao Mo.

Could it be because of Gao Mo?

And tonight, for some inexplicable reason, we had ordered a pickled fish hotpot that supposedly tasted like first love.

Shen Yihu was visibly displeased, but since he’d already called him “uncle” and the liquor was poured, refusing to drink would be rude. He picked up the full glass and said, “Uncle, I toast you.”

Shen Yihu had trained his alcohol tolerance. He downed three shots of the strong liquor in one go, clean and decisive.

Uncle Jianguo licked his glass a couple of times, then picked up the bottle and poured more for Shen Yihu. “One toast isn’t enough.”

Seeing the two about to clash, I nudged Uncle Jianguo and said, “Enough. Officer Shen has work to do.” Shen Yihu, stubborn and irritated, remained stiff at the table.

Uncle Jianguo turned his head away, suppressing his anger for a long time before finally exploding at Shen Yihu.

This was the first time I’d ever seen Uncle Jianguo swear. Shen Yihu initially tried to argue back but eventually hung his head low, wishing he could crawl under the table in shame, not uttering a word. Uncle Jianguo, known as the “Half-Immortal” for his fortune-telling skills, had a sharp tongue.

Shen Yihu had no choice but to endure the scolding. I finally understood—Uncle Jianguo was reprimanding Shen Yihu on behalf of Gao Mo. When Gao Mo had rejected me before, she’d said she had a “male god” in her heart. After Uncle Jianguo’s tirade, I realized that male god was Shen Yihu.

Uncle Jianguo berated Shen Yihu for wasting Gao Mo’s youth.

In truth, Shen Yihu was innocent. He couldn’t help it if someone had a crush on him. Both Shen Yihu and Liu Jianguo—one a cop, the other a soldier—exuded a rugged, masculine aura.

Girls often choose husbands based on their fathers. Gao Mo had rejected everyone else, but Shen Yihu’s tough, masculine demeanor reminded her of her mentor, Liu Jianguo, and she fell for him.

But fate played a cruel joke. The man she’d pined for was already married to Meng Xiaoyu, a stunning and influential businesswoman.

Uncle Jianguo, through subtle hints, had learned of Gao Mo’s feelings. Normally, he hadn’t seen Shen Yihu, but now that he had, his protective instincts kicked in, and he looked for reasons to pick a fight.

Shen Yihu was tough, but he hadn’t realized Gao Mo had feelings for him. He’d always found her behavior odd—now he understood why. So, when Uncle Jianguo lashed out, he could only listen.

I laughed and said, “Alright, alright. I’ll introduce Gao Mo to a handsome, wealthy guy later. Let’s get back to business.”

Uncle Jianguo, having vented his frustration, wasn’t petty. He lit a cigarette and lazily said, “You talk. I’ll listen.”

The pickled fish hotpot did have a taste reminiscent of first love—sour but delicious, especially paired with the strong liquor. That sourness lingered in the mind, hard to forget.

Seeing Uncle Jianguo had cooled down, I spoke up. “Beast-making involves covering a person with animal skin, turning them into livestock like cows, sheep, or donkeys. Whether the seven missing corpses from the hospital are related—we can’t jump to conclusions.”

Shen Yihu stirred the pot with his chopsticks, then his expression darkened. “Damn it, the fish is all gone.” Embarrassed, I pushed the fish bones in front of me aside—Little Rascal had eaten well.

While they were arguing, I’d finished all the fish.

Uncle Jianguo said, “You’re joking, right? Covering someone with animal skin turns them into a beast? That’s a fairy tale.”

Shen Yihu scooped some pickled cabbage to suppress the rising alcohol. “Are you saying the seven missing corpses from the morgue were stolen to be turned into livestock?”

I nodded. “It’s one possibility. But who would blatantly steal seven corpses from a hospital? That’s way too high-profile. In a city this big, buying seven corpses would be easy.”

Unidentified homeless people who died ended up in hospitals, and some executed prisoners’ bodies were traded as commodities.

So, seven corpses could easily be bought—no need to steal them.

Shen Yihu was silent for a while, then said, “Whoever caused such a stir is asking for trouble. I’ll catch them in a couple of days. As for Xia Jinrong’s case, without evidence, we can’t touch him. The local police are useless—Xia Jinrong must’ve bribed them.”

I asked, “What can we do? You’re a cop. There must be a way to deal with him.”

Shen Yihu thought for a moment. “Xia Jinrong is just a pawn. To take him down, we’d have to go after the mastermind behind him. Sacrificing pawns to protect the king is standard practice for any interest group.”

Uncle Jianguo added, “Is the mayor of Lügang Town involved?”

Shen Yihu remained silent, his eyelids lifting slightly.

I understood—the mayor was small fry. We’d have to go higher, to the county magistrate of Ning County, to make progress.

After finishing the pickled fish, we ordered two more hearty dishes. Shen Yihu ate two bowls of rice and asked the staff to pack some food for his team, who hadn’t eaten yet.

I patted Uncle Jianguo’s back. “Try to convince Gao Mo. Introduce her to a good man.” After leaving the hotpot restaurant, I saw Uncle Jianguo home. As soon as he got out of the car, Gao Mo called, throwing back every word Uncle Jianguo had said to Shen Yihu.

At the end, Gao Mo added, “Mind your own business, Liu Jianguo. You’ve been single for decades—why meddle in my life?”

Uncle Jianguo stomped his foot in anger. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

Gao Mo was unfazed. “Big brother, if you manage to get married, I’ll marry too. I won’t go back on my word.”

*Click.* The call ended.

Uncle Jianguo fumed silently for a while, then widened his eyes at me. “Master Xiao, do you think I still have a shot at the marriage market? Can I get married? Maybe I should sign up for *If You Are the One*.”

I laughed. “Didn’t Su Su have a huge crush on you before? That proves you’ve still got charm. I support you joining *If You Are the One*. With your charisma, the girls will be fighting over you.”

Uncle Jianguo mulled it over. The next morning, he called me to say he’d already signed up online and was waiting for an interview.

I said, “I’ll cheer you on. Maybe I can make a cameo during the friend interview segment?”

Uncle Jianguo hung up.

I checked the time—only six o’clock, still dark outside. I dozed off again. After gathering info from Shen Yihu, I learned that Xia Jinrong’s wife, Huifang, lived in Jiangcheng. Their son was a good student at Jiangcheng No. 1 High School.

Huifang had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the school to take care of him.

By the time I got there, it was already ten o’clock. I knocked, and Huifang answered, alone at home, making soup for her son. Today was a monthly exam day, and she wanted to nourish his brain.

Huifang asked, “Who are you?”

I said, “I’m Xiao Qi. Is Xia Jinrong your husband?”

At the mention of his name, her eyes reddened. “He’s done so many terrible things. I’m divorcing him—I won’t let my son learn from him.”

I’d expected a rural shrew but found her surprisingly reasonable.

The aroma of lotus root soup and scallions filled the house, making my mouth water. A plate of dumplings sat on the table—today was the Winter Solstice.

I asked, “It must be hard raising a child alone.”

Huifang frowned. “Are you from the police? Investigating Xia Jinrong?”

I shook my head. “Yesterday, I performed a ritual for your father, Xia Gengtian, in Lügang Town. Some things came up, so I wanted to check on your son.”

Huifang paled and grabbed my hand, her nails digging in. “That beast! He’s doing rituals again? Every year on the Winter Solstice. How are you… unharmed?”

Realizing she’d overreacted, she quickly let go.

I smiled. “I’m a legitimate feng shui master with proper training—not a fraud. But your son… can you tell me about Xia Jinrong? I think your son might be involved.”

Hearing this, Huifang panicked and spilled everything. A few years ago, Xia Jinrong had met a Taoist priest and started shady dealings, hiring con men to perform rituals for his parents.

Afterward, those frauds all turned stupid. No one knew what happened.

I asked, “What about last month? Anything unusual?”

Huifang shook her head. “I’ve been focused on my son. I haven’t been home in a long time—I don’t know anything recent.”

So, she didn’t know about the young Taoist.

I urged Huifang to take me to see her son. She hesitated. “Now? He’s taking his English exam this morning and math in the afternoon. Won’t it disrupt him?”

I said firmly, “The sooner, the better.”

Huifang untied her apron, turned off the soup, covered the dumplings, washed her hands, and threw on a red coat. She moved briskly as we hurried to the school.

The apartment was a ten-minute walk from Jiangcheng No. 1 High. From afar, I saw a black Santana parked at the school gate. A boy in a black down jacket came out and got in.

Huifang broke into a run, shouting, “Baorui! Baorui!”

I sprinted after her but only caught a glimpse of Xia Jinrong driving. Whoever was in the back seat remained unseen.