Volume One: The Soul-Guiding Gourd and the Flame of the Spirit Chapter 47: The Morgue

Time flew by, and the room was thick with the smell of alcohol.

All good things must come to an end. Gu Mo had no idea when his childhood friend Hu Shengtian had left, nor did he know how much he had ended up drinking...

A ringing phone repeatedly disturbed the soundly sleeping Gu Mo.

“Through half a life of wind and snow—
Cannot blow away the tears of falling blossoms—
Cannot call back the lonely wild goose bound south—
Who understands my thoughts but the moon that follows me—
Longing makes my brows even more wan and weary—”

Gu Mo frowned, eyes barely open, and, still groggy with sleep, groped around for the source of the noise. After several failed attempts, he finally pressed the spare phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he mumbled.

There was silence on the other end.

With a start, Gu Mo sat up. The sudden movement, coupled with the hangover from the night before, made his head spin and his vision go black.

“Uh... What did you say? That thing is still moving?”

The words had barely left his lips before a cold sweat broke out across his body.

“...”

“All right, Chief Niu. I’ll get ready and head out.”

Half-sitting up, Gu Mo frowned, rubbing the back of his head as he slipped on his slippers haphazardly. There was no sign of his “Yama’s wife” in the room—he figured that foolish girl must be hiding somewhere.

Clack, clack.

In a few steps, Gu Mo entered another room.

With a creak, the door was pushed open, and Gu Mo instantly froze, wide-eyed.

What met his eyes was the disreputable Daoist, Xiao Yulou, sprawled out in deep sleep. He was wearing nothing but a pair of pink strawberry-print boxers, a truly eye-searing sight.

Gathering himself, Gu Mo frowned and walked over, giving the lecherous Daoist a gentle push.

“Brother Xiao, wake up! The sun’s already up!”

Xiao Yulou merely turned over, waving a hand in protest.

“Don’t bother me!”

With a deepening frown, Gu Mo landed a heavy slap on Xiao Yulou’s rear.

The crisp smack echoed in the room.

Startled awake, Xiao Yulou blinked, and after a few seconds, his lascivious words made Gu Mo’s face darken with exasperation.

The Daoist clutched the blanket around himself, casting Gu Mo a bashful glance, as if expecting some unspeakable act.

“Brother Gu, please, be gentle with me!”

At that, a thousand curses galloped through Gu Mo’s mind.

“We’ve got work, you mop-top. That strange male corpse is still moving!”

Xiao Yulou frowned in puzzlement. With a cough, he began dressing, asking, “How is that possible? Even if it’s a walking corpse, it should be dormant during the day.”

Gu Mo could only sigh, telling Xiao Yulou to hurry up...

A few minutes later, after a quick wash, the two of them stepped out of the small courtyard and saw a black Passat waiting outside. The thick smoke inside the car made it look like a scene from a fairyland.

Clearly, Chief Niu and Liu Haiyang inside were feeling quite anxious, troubled, and frustrated.

As soon as Gu Mo and Xiao Yulou got into the car, the pungent smell of tar hit them.

Liu Haiyang cleared his throat, started the engine, and sped away.

Outside the car window, the scenery blurred past. It seemed they were speeding toward the outskirts...

Chief Niu, in the passenger seat, cleared his throat and turned to address Gu Mo and Xiao Yulou.

“Gentlemen, this case is truly bizarre—otherwise we wouldn’t have disturbed you so early in the morning.”

Gu Mo simply smiled. Xiao Yulou, on the other hand, pressed his fingers together in a Daoist gesture and intoned, “Boundless Heavenly Venerable!”

A moment later, Xiao Yulou broke into a mischievous grin at Chief Niu. “Time is of no consequence, as long as there’s extra pay.”

“Of course, of course,” Chief Niu replied with a forced smile, while Gu Mo was left speechless...

Who knew how much time had passed.

The sedan finally came to a halt before a dilapidated building.

Bang, bang!

After a few doors slammed, Gu Mo looked up to survey the building before him.

Desolation as far as the eye could see.

The two-story structure stood alone, battered and forlorn. Its crumbling walls were mottled and flaking, crawling with deep green ivy. The battered stainless-steel security door had long since lost its original sheen. A chill wind swept by, making one’s hair stand on end.

Gu Mo’s instincts screamed that this place was anything but ordinary.

While Gu Mo was sizing up the building, Chief Niu pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered them around.

With a flick, the four stood in silence, shrouded in smoke and confusion.

After some time, Chief Niu glanced at Liu Haiyang.

The upright police officer gave a small cough and said, “Uh... Mr. Gu, the true identity of that strange male corpse has been confirmed.”

As he spoke, Liu Haiyang handed Gu Mo a report he’d pulled from his pocket.

Gu Mo unfolded it, Xiao Yulou peering over curiously. After a few moments, Gu Mo sucked in a sharp breath.

After a brief silence, Gu Mo, brow furrowed, looked to Liu Haiyang. “Brother Haiyang, what’s going on?”

Liu Haiyang’s upright face tightened, and he replied in a near-whisper, “Mr. Gu, as you can see, we’ve verified the fingerprints and identity multiple times. The corpse really is named ‘Gu Mo’...”

He paused, then went on, “And this Gu Mo is indeed the grandson of your grandfather, Gu Yanzhi. According to our investigation, this Gu Mo only returned to Beihuang Town last month.”

“We found it odd as well! You mean you didn’t even know you had such a brother?”

Shocked by the revelation, Gu Mo glanced at Xiao Yulou, who nodded subtly, convinced that these bizarre events were indeed tied to the White Lotus Sect.

Gu Mo handed the report back to Liu Haiyang with a wry smile. “I was sent away by my grandfather when I was young. I’ve never even met my own parents, let alone this brother.”

Liu Haiyang nodded helplessly, then asked softly, “Mr. Gu, as the deceased’s family, do you consent to an autopsy to uncover the truth?”

Gu Mo frowned, thinking, “With such a gaping wound in his chest, is an autopsy even necessary?”

After a deep drag, Gu Mo stubbed his cigarette out underfoot.

“Go ahead with the autopsy. Whatever the case, I can’t let him die with injustice.”

Liu Haiyang, seeing the dark expression on Gu Mo’s face, reminded him gently, “Mr. Gu, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Gu Mo replied with a crooked, devil-may-care smile, “What’s meant to happen will happen.”

...

Liu Haiyang then led Gu Mo and Xiao Yulou to the door and rang the bell.

Within moments, loud footsteps echoed from inside.

Click, click, click.

Creak!

The security door swung open to reveal a woman in a white lab coat.

Gu Mo and Xiao Yulou were both taken aback—the woman was strikingly beautiful, like a fairy descended to earth.

Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her features flawless, and her eyes deep and soulful. Long, thick lashes fluttered above golden-rimmed glasses perched on her high nose. Her lips, a vibrant red, were utterly bewitching.

It was no exaggeration to say that this alluring forensic doctor exuded temptation from every pore.

Pinned to her lab coat was a small name tag.

So this bewitching forensic doctor was named Song Yuer.

Song Yuer, in her immaculate white coat, wore expensive black stockings from Balenciaga, her feet clad in patent-leather stilettos. Her figure was simply captivating, enough to make countless men lose sleep and nosebleed over her.

If Gu Mo’s ex, Li Hongyan, was the cute type, and his “Yama’s wife” Jiang Jingxue the queenly sort, then Song Yuer was the very embodiment of a femme fatale.

In front of them, Song Yuer surveyed the group for a moment, then asked in a soft, slightly frowning voice, “Who are you here to see?”

At the back, Chief Niu cleared his throat and waddled forward on his paunch.

“Ahem—we’re from the city precinct.”

Song Yuer nodded slowly, opening the door wide.

A gust of cold air, thick with complex odors, swept out.

The four men outside shivered, goosebumps rising all over as if after a rain.

The corridor beyond was pitch black and narrow, filled with a heavy, cold air.

Led by Song Yuer, the four entered the dim hallway.

They stopped before a heavy stainless-steel door. Song Yuer pushed it open with a forceful shove.

A strong smell of disinfectant rushed out.

Gu Mo frowned. The large workspace inside was chilling and sinister.

Through the glass partition, they could see the corpse of Gu Mo—struggling violently on the autopsy table. It seemed even the thick leather straps binding him could barely restrain him.

Gu Mo, Xiao Yulou, and the others felt a chill in their hearts, but at the front, Song Yuer showed not a hint of panic...

The entire morgue was icy, the harsh white light overhead casting a ghastly pallor. Next to the stainless-steel autopsy table was a large workbench gleaming with all sorts of sharp instruments.

Song Yuer turned to the four of them, arching a brow with a smile. “Come in, all of you.”

They exchanged nervous glances, then mustered their courage and entered...

As soon as they were inside, Song Yuer pointed unceremoniously to three sterile gowns hanging on the wall.

“If you don’t want to become suspects, you’d better put on a gown.”

Gu Mo and Xiao Yulou turned to comply, when suddenly strange noises echoed in the room.

Slurp, slurp.

Goosebumps prickled all over Gu Mo’s skin.

In the corner, seated on a bench, was an elderly man, perhaps in his sixties, his sparse white hair stubbornly defying age.

His face was deeply lined, eyes sharp behind glasses thicker than the bottom of a bottle.

The old man wore a loose sterile gown over a white tank top, his crossed legs ending in a pair of worn two-toed slippers.

Even stranger, he was hunched over a bowl of tomato-and-egg noodles, devouring them hungrily.

Gu Mo’s handsome features twisted in disbelief.

What the hell? Is this old geezer a pervert? Eating so heartily in front of a struggling corpse?

Unable to restrain his curiosity, Gu Mo donned the sterile gown, eyeing the strange old man in the corner.

Honestly, the old man looked just like Stephen Chow’s favorite bit actor—Lo Ka Ying.

Noticing their arrival, the old man merely sped up his eating.

Slurp, slurp.

After finishing his noodles, he set the bowl aside, looked at the corpse still writhing on the autopsy table, and let out a loud burp.

Burp.

At this point, Gu Mo’s worldview was completely shattered.

The old man then turned to scrutinize the four of them with a peculiar gaze, as if in his eyes, they would soon be fresh corpses themselves.

Under that unsettling stare, cold sweat broke out on Gu Mo’s body, and his mind was awash with mixed feelings.

What is with this old guy? Are all forensic doctors freaks?

...