Chapter 13

After returning to his workplace, Ling Chen reported his “findings” to Director Song the very next morning.

Of course, Ling Chen couldn’t reveal everything.

“I met the Grand Shaman… Uh, Mr. Hu is actually a decent person.” After much effort, that was all Ling Chen managed to say.

“That’s it?” Director Song asked without even lifting his head from the documents he was reviewing.

Ling Chen thought for a moment more. “He showed me his collection and mentioned he’s been busy with software development.”

At that moment, a soft, mocking chuckle sounded beside him. Without even turning his head, Ling Chen knew exactly which annoying person was watching the show.

“Xiao Ling,” the troublemaker began lazily, “why didn’t you clarify? Was it Hatsune Miku figurines or Gundam models in his collection? And for the software development—when that MBTI feature goes live, you should definitely test it on Director Song.”

Seizing the opportunity when Director Song wasn’t looking, Ling Chen raised his fist, ready to throw a punch. However, He Jinchao effortlessly floated backward, well out of reach of the impending strike.

Unfortunately, Director Song chose that exact moment to glance up. His eyes fixed on Ling Chen’s raised fist with visible surprise.

“…” Ling Chen’s hand hung awkwardly in mid-air.

He Jinchao floated closer again, resting a hand on Ling Chen’s shoulder, practically hanging off him. “Xiao Ling, listen to me. Now, wave your arm and alternate between spreading your fingers and clenching a fist.”

“?” Ling Chen didn’t understand but reflexively followed the instruction.

Director Song’s confusion only deepened as he watched his trusted subordinate perform what looked like a mime act in his office.

“…” Ling Chen finally realized he had been duped. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “He Jinchao, you made me look like an idiot.”

With a grin, He Jinchao replied, “Of course not! You acted very convincingly. If Director Song asks, just say you were catching bugs.”

“—Ling Chen, are you catching bugs?” Director Song asked with a chuckle. “There are so many little bugs in the mountains. Every morning when I open the window, they fly right in. You wouldn’t believe it—I even saw a centipede as long as my forearm crawling on my desk the other day!”

Ling Chen: “…”

He Jinchao raised an amused brow. “See, Xiao Ling? I told you your acting is excellent.”

Ling Chen ignored him and stiffly responded to his superior, “A centipede? That sounds terrifying. How did you get rid of it?”

“Get rid of it? Why would I do that?” Director Song chuckled mysteriously, pointing toward a nondescript corner of his office. “Since it came all this way, I invited it to stay as a guest!”

Following his gaze, Ling Chen spotted a large jar of dark brown medicinal liquor in the corner.

Through the glass, he could make out various unidentifiable creatures submerged in the liquid, forming a grotesque mixture that bubbled ominously like a witch’s brew. It looked as if a monstrous entity with eight legs and twelve eyes could crawl out at any moment.

Ling Chen inhaled sharply.

Even He Jinchao was momentarily silent.

Ling Chen thought to himself, Director Song is far scarier than that centipede.

“Xiao Ling, let’s get out of here,” He Jinchao said sincerely. “I’m afraid if I stay too long, I’ll end up as another guest.”

Ling Chen: “…”

That probably wouldn’t happen.

“I’ve been brewing this medicinal liquor for over ten years, ever since I moved into this office,” Director Song explained enthusiastically. “The medicinal properties are incredibly potent. I don’t even drink it often because it’s so precious.” He smiled generously. “Ling Chen, you finally got to meet the Grand Shaman and had a long conversation with him. You young people do share common interests! Come, let’s celebrate with a drink.”

“No, no, no,” Ling Chen quickly declined. “I have six work orders to fulfill today. I’ll be going to the morgue soon. If the families see me drunk, they’ll definitely have complaints.”

“Ah, work comes first, of course.” Director Song sighed in disappointment. “No worries. This jar will always be here. Feel free to stop by whenever you want a drink.”

“…Thank you,” Ling Chen replied stiffly.

There was no way he would set foot in this office again.

Ling Chen wasn’t lying about the six work orders. That meant he would be doing cosmetic reconstruction for six deceased individuals.

—-

Today’s cases weren’t particularly difficult—elderly people who had passed away from illness. The changing seasons had led to a surge in respiratory infections. Even a seemingly mild cold was enough to snuff out the flame of life.

Riding his small electric scooter, Ling Chen stopped outside the farewell room, picked up his makeup kit, and approached the morgue. Just as he was about to push open the door, he paused and turned to He Jinchao. “Wait here. Don’t come in.”

He Jinchao blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

Ever since his death, the red thread connecting him to Ling Chen had made them inseparable. Wherever Ling Chen went, He Jinchao followed. Aside from private moments like bathing or using the restroom, this was the first time he wasn’t allowed to tag along.

“Respect for the deceased,” Ling Chen said simply.

He Jinchao raised an eyebrow. “But I’m dead too. Can’t the dead see each other?”

Ling Chen shook his head. “It’s different. No one wants a stranger to witness them in a frail, withered state. My job is to help them preserve their final dignity.”

He Jinchao eventually agreed, waiting quietly outside the morgue. With no phone to entertain him, he wandered the courtyard, observing the world of the living.

Families of the deceased had started to arrive. Surprisingly, despite their loss, many showed little sadness. Middle-aged men smoked and chatted in dialect, their conversation drifting into He Jinchao’s ears as he passed by.

“…I asked around. The cemetery plot costs over a hundred thousand. Damn, you can’t afford to live, and you can’t afford to die.”

“…Don’t worry. The kids can chip in a few thousand each.”

“…Easier said than done! School fees, tutoring, mortgages, car loans—where would they get the money?”

“…Then find someone who has it.”

“…You mean?”

“…Second Uncle’s daughter Linlin is an actress now. She’s doing well, even acted in a film with He Jinchao recently. She must have money. Ten grand is nothing to her.”

“…They’ve been divorced for years, and Linlin even changed her last name. She already paid several thousand for the hospital bills. Asking for more doesn’t seem right.”

“…Name change or not, she’s still part of the family! If she doesn’t pay, I’ll go public and expose her—say she disrespects her elders, cold-hearted and ungrateful. Actors hate bad press.”

Hearing his own name, He Jinchao raised an eyebrow.

Linlin, they said? If he remembered correctly, she was a rookie actress his agency signed last year—a theater graduate with mediocre skills. She had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it role in his latest film. Her manager was already planning to push her into a low-budget web series as a second female lead.

Although he and she were both contracted actors under the same company, He Jinchao was an award-winning actor with little personal interaction with her and had no idea her family situation was so complicated. Her parents had divorced centuries ago, yet distant relatives still hoped to leech money from her.

How could some people be so thick-skinned, feeling entitled to other people’s money?

Since he overheard the conversation, He Jinchao couldn’t just stand by. He gestured subtly, and suddenly, a flurry of messages erupted from the phones of the gossiping middle-aged relatives.

They all instinctively pulled out their phones. The moment they checked, chaos broke loose.

It was revealed that the eldest son’s marriage was on the rocks, with a years-long, unresolved medical issue causing strain and a rekindled affair threatening divorce. The second son’s child had been caught cheating at university and was now facing expulsion, a secret kept from his parents. The third was deep into online gambling, scamming relatives with fake investment schemes.

Evidence of all these dirty secrets was posted in the family group chat, named “A Happy and Loving Family”, by an account with the eerie name “Feeling the Warmth of Corpses”. No one knew how this mysterious account got added or obtained the private information. After stirring up the group, it promptly left and deactivated.

Instantly, the family that had been united in picking on someone else turned on each other.

“Unbelievable! You lied about investing to steal our hard-earned money—pay it back!”

“Money? How about you explain the hush money from your ex?”

“You’re one to talk! All your bragging about your son going abroad on scholarships was a scam. Did you even buy his high school diploma?”

In the once-solemn funeral hall, the atmosphere degenerated into a market brawl. Screaming and cursing drowned out even the mournful wailing from the adjacent room. Biting, scratching, pulling wigs—within minutes, security guards had to step in to separate the combatants.

Even while being dragged apart, the verbal assault continued, each insult sharper than the last, cutting into the very hearts of those they once called family.

He Jinchao watched, arms crossed, a frosty smirk on his handsome face.

When Lingchen walked out from the morgue after hearing the commotion, he was greeted by this chaotic scene. He didn’t even blink.

Carrying his makeup kit, he approached one of the middle-aged men, his voice slow and detached.
“The makeup’s done. Which one of you will confirm it?”

The man, still trying to fit a disheveled wig back on, snapped, “Who the hell are you? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Ling Chen calmly took a step back, dodging the man’s spit-laden words. He shrugged and walked out without another glance.

He Jinchao, still trailing behind him like a ghost, was full of questions.
“Hey, how are you not surprised by any of this?”

“What’s there to be surprised about?” Ling Chen countered.

“Come on! Everything just blew up in there, and you didn’t even raise an eyebrow!”

Ling Chen looked at him with a calm expression.
“Mr. Actor, tell me—how do you picture a funeral in your imagination? Grieving relatives, weeping bitterly, putting aside old grudges for the deceased’s sake?” He snorted. “Sorry to disappoint you. That kind of thing only happens in dramas. Real funerals are far more entertaining.”

“…”

“Fights over inheritance. Secret children showing up out of nowhere. Creditors barging in, throwing tantrums. Lovers sneaking into coffins for a last kiss and getting caught…” He gestured toward a metal detector at the entrance. “See that? It’s here because someone brought a knife once. Now we do security checks.”

Each story was delivered in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, as if recounting mundane gossip from a book.

He Jinchao finally understood why the staff handled the chaos so efficiently—it wasn’t their first rodeo.

“This is… quite something,” He Jinchao muttered, at a loss for words.

He thought of his own funeral—how Ling Chen had been forced to sign confidentiality agreements and endure pat-downs. To Ling Chen, was his death just another bizarre spectacle?

The only twist was that, unlike others, He Jinchao’s soul didn’t dissipate. It remained bound to Lingchen.

At that thought, a faint smile crossed He Jinchao’s lips.

Ling Chen, unaware of his companion’s thoughts, paused to glance back at the hall, where the argument still raged. His gaze settled on the framed portrait of the deceased—a smiling old woman with silver hair, dressed in fine clothes. Her eyes seemed to watch the chaotic scene in front of her with quiet amusement.

When he had first opened the morgue’s doors, Lingchen had felt a flicker of dread—afraid he might see her confused soul lingering beside her body, unwilling to move on.

But there was nothing.

As Hu Yizhi had said, not every soul stays behind. The old woman was gone, free from the ugliness her family now revealed.

“What a shame…” Ling Chen murmured.

He Jinchao thought he understood. “A shame she can’t rest in peace?”

“No.” Ling hen sighed. “A shame I won’t get any condolence money.”

“…”