Chapter 1 Zhou Ze's Confusion

Zhou Ze reached out and rubbed his face. Honestly, he still couldn't understand why Ying Gou was doing this "secretly."

It didn't fit Ying Gou's style. That iron-headed fool always belonged to the kind who charged towards five opponents alone, yelling:

"Hurry up, I've already surrounded all five of them!"

How could someone so stubborn do something like this?

Perhaps he'd been too carefree before, which was why he hadn't noticed the changes in his mood earlier.

He only felt that this anger had come on too intensely, but he instinctively began to find excuses for it.

If the old Taoist hadn't kept pulling him back,

he might not have woken up yet.

Maybe,

after he went inside,

there would have been a massacre.

Only slaughter could calm him down,

and then he'd sit on the bloodstained floor,

quietly calming down,

only to realize his inexplicable behavior?

But after the old Taoist shouted, Zhou Ze could only temporarily put aside the other thoughts in his heart and walk towards the doorway.

The matter with Ying Gou

could wait until he got back to bed at night to slowly settle the score.

Since it was daytime,

he naturally had to do what he should.

No wonder the old Taoist was so panicked.

On the kitchen stove, a middle-aged, fat woman lay sprawled, a kitchen knife stuck in her chest. The knife was plunged in deep, and the woman had apparently been hacked many, many times, with a series of knife marks on her face.

Like a dog-chewed persimmon, completely shattered.

This was the classic old-fashioned rural stove setup, with two large pots. The woman's head was dangling in one pot, while her feet were in the other.

Fortunately, there was no water in the pots. If they were both filled, boiling them would probably make the woman's body shake up and down.

If one was cooking vegetables and the other was boiling porridge, tsk tsk…

Huh?

What am I thinking about?

Zhou Ze frowned slightly.

He felt he needed to see Wang Ke about his psychological issues. This might not just be because of Ying Gou's influence, but also because of internal factors that were starting to change within him.

Actually,

Zhou Ze thought,

even if Wang Ke's therapy didn't work,

just seeing Wang Ke

could give him a sense of positive energy.

Seeing that his childhood friend was still trying to live with a smile,

what hurdle couldn't he overcome in this world?

If Wang Ke turned his experiences into an art exhibition, and every patient who came to book an appointment had to pass through the story gallery before entering his office, maybe after reaching the office,

the patient would excitedly shake Wang Ke's hand and say:

"We all need to be strong!"

…

"Dead?"

The old Taoist looked at Zhou Ze, his face very pale.

Not from fear, but from an involuntary feeling that something was strange about this. How could someone suddenly die?

"What are you looking at me for? I didn't do it."

Zhou Ze's answer was blunt.

There was a hint in his tone that even if he had done it, what was the big deal?

The old Taoist nodded with difficulty, because Zhou Ze had come with him, so it definitely wasn't Zhou Ze who did it.

The two walked inside. The blood flowing from the fat woman had soaked most of the stove.

A simple rural stove,

an unwashed iron pot,

a fat, elderly woman,

blood, blood, blood,

the silence of death.

If you took a high-definition photo of this as a large banner and framed it,

and then paired it with two photos of hot Victoria's Secret models on the runway,

at a glance,

that vibe,

tsk tsk…

Zhou Ze touched his forehead again.

No,

he really had to see Wang Ke.

This was just an appetizer, like a warm-up before a gala. From the kitchen, you entered the living room.

In the center of the living room, hung a statue of a deity. It was a bit abstract, and you couldn't quite tell which deity it was, but one thing was certain: this deity seemed to be neglecting his duties.

Just like how the monks in temples are all skinny, it definitely means that the bodhisattva here isn't doing a good job.

Below the statue,

a woman leaned against a cabinet, her head covered in blood,

a perfect silent accusation.

The woman should have been hit first, then pushed here, her head hitting a protruding metal object behind the cabinet.

Like a cliché plot in countless TV dramas, a man pushes a woman, not intending to kill her, but the woman dies because there's a damned thing behind her.

The scriptwriters are too careless, not caring about the even more cliché deaths for the sake of a bloody plot.

Zhou Ze walked over, looking back and forth with his head cocked.

Oh,

he saw it.

It was a sharp object similar to a cabinet handle,

shining with a silver luster, but probably not made of silver.

This thing

was now piercing the back of the woman's head.

The woman sat there, her eyes open, her expression painful, but already frozen.

The safest thing in the world isn't a freezer or a plastic bag, but… death.

Death pressed the pause button,

then hit game over,

turning away smartly,

leaving behind a black and white screen.

The old Taoist edged closer to Zhou Ze, being as careful as possible.

"Old Taoist, pull her head out."

Zhou Ze pointed to the young woman.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak!"

The monkey perched on the old Taoist's shoulder pointed at the woman and called out a few times.

"Oh, she's a kidnapper?"

Zhou Ze realized.

Obviously, Bi Yun Tao had left behind more than just the man's aura.

The old Taoist squatted down, thinking his boss was telling him to do this to find some clues, and was actually about to reach out and pull the woman's head.

But Zhou Ze put his hand on his shoulder,

"Just kidding, you want to see a hot spring show?"

"Oh, okay."

The old Taoist stood up tremblingly, his head muddled.

Honestly, he didn't know why, but after seeing two corpses in a row, what he was really afraid of wasn't the two corpses and the cause of death behind them, but the boss next to him.

The boss,

why did he feel like he was a little excited?

Zhou Ze really wanted to find a sink to splash some water on his face. He felt like his mind was a bit unclear right now. Was it a side effect of Ying Gou?

But,

on second thought,

it wouldn't be right to push all the blame onto Ying Gou and turn him into a scapegoat.

Zhou Ze took out a cigarette. The old Taoist suddenly reminded him:

"Boss, the police will be here soon."

It wouldn't be good to find cigarette butts.

"It's okay, we can be witnesses, no, I guess we should be called the discoverers."

Hearing this, the old Taoist shook his head.

A discoverer who's in the mood to smoke next to a corpse at a crime scene?

In the end, Zhou Ze still smoked a cigarette. Nicotine really didn't have any effect on him anymore, but this habitual action always brought him some habitual tranquility.

Then,

he walked inside,

and saw the pool of water he wanted.

But the pool,

had already been occupied,

and he would probably occupy it for a long time.

Heh,

this kind of person,

really has no manners.

The walking stick had fallen to the side and was already broken.

An old man's face was still floating in the pool, his legs arched backward, maintaining a dynamic sense of balance.

His head, still bobbing up and down in the water.

Water kept flowing from the tap,

and the entire bathroom

was covered in a layer of water.

There was also a rope around the old man's neck, extending to the ground.

The mirror above the pool had long been shattered, with blood staining the gaps, but amplifying certain characteristics.

Zhou Ze exhaled a smoke ring.

He remembered that a wax museum had opened behind his bookstore a while ago, but it had closed down a long time ago. At this moment, he felt like he had walked into a wax museum.

With a little bit of ease, with a hint of leisure,

he appreciated this scene of death,

dynamic, static, perverted,

forming an exquisite and pleasing sculpture.

But these things

were more stimulating

than moving animation.

The old Taoist kept his mouth shut beside him, and the little monkey kept sticking its head out, looking around.

"Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!"

Muffled sounds came

from the inner room.

The old Taoist shuddered and immediately reached into his crotch, ready at any moment!

Zhou Ze naturally pushed open the door to the inner room.

The door was pushed open.

Directly opposite the door, on the wall,

were splattered spots of scarlet,

as if splash-ink art had reached its peak,

giving people an extremely stimulating shock.

Within the roughness, there was a connotation that evoked people's imagination;

within the neatness, there was a hidden, chilling madness.

A middle-aged man in his thirties, wearing only his underwear, was sitting on a man's body.

He was holding something like a brick in his hand,

and was constantly smashing it into the person beneath him, who had long since died.

Smash,

"Bang!"

"Splatter!"

Blood splattered.

Obviously, the splash-ink on the wall was the masterpiece of the man in front of him.

Zhou Ze felt a sense of shame for intruding uninvited and entering the artist's creative territory without permission.

Yes,

he really felt that way.

He could tell

that the man in front of him

was smashing with focus, with seriousness, with perseverance.

His arm should have been sore for a long time,

but he was still persisting.

This was a dedication to art

that prompted him to unleash the potential within him.

The feeling

was no less than cycling thousands of miles or trekking across the Sahara.

And when Zhou Ze and the old Taoist's figures appeared at the door,

the man in his underwear raised his head,

looked at the two at the door,

and suddenly grinned,

revealing yellowed teeth.

Obviously,

he didn't pay much attention to personal hygiene,

just like how artists don't seem to like to groom themselves.

If you're not a little sloppy, you can't show your flair.

But his smile was full of purity, and even a hint of sincerity and joy.

"Aoo! Aoo! Aoo!"

He let out a cheer,

and

even turned his head to look at the wall behind him,

like a painter showing off his carefully crafted results to others.

The old Taoist swallowed, clenching his fingers in his crotch,

thinking in his heart,

was this a human or a ghost?

It shouldn't be a human,

definitely not a human!

Thinking this,

the old Taoist looked at his boss out of the corner of his eye.

He saw

the boss raise his hands

and

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

begin

to applaud…