Tumba fantasma de pagoda budista

Capítulo 3

It was a grain of rice, and under the dappled sunlight filtering through the roof, it emitted a milky white glow.

Liu Jianjun gave a wry smile, rubbing the grain of rice between his fingers. "I'm being paranoid! What's so strange about a single grain of rice?" He tossed the rice away. A fleeting thought flashed through his mind, but it vanished before he could grasp it. Liu Jianjun racked his brains for several minutes, but still couldn't recall anything. Seeing that it was getting late, he covered the body again with a cloth and went home.

---janeadam

Reply [11]: His wife, Xiuzhen, was a worker at Jinhua Cotton Mill. She had already finished get off work and returned home to prepare the meal. When she saw him come back, she called him to wash his hands, take off his clothes, and eat. Liu Jianjun sat down at the table and looked at the food on it: a plate of peanuts, a plate of tofu with scallions, a plate of scrambled eggs, a small plate of pickled vegetables, and in the lunchbox, there were pancakes that his wife had just made. Millet porridge was cooking in the pot. Their daughter was out making revolution and had not yet returned home. The couple did not wait for her. They ate the pancakes with the dishes and talked about some small things in life. His wife said, "Hey, Jianjun, it's almost New Year's. Does your unit give out rice coupons?"

"It's only autumn, and you're already thinking about the New Year. What's the rush?"

“I’m not in a hurry. I passed by the Zhiqing store today and saw a sign at the door saying that Northeast rice is very cheap these days. I said if you have rice coupons, let’s stock up on some while it’s cheap, so that the price won’t go up at the end of the year and we might not be able to buy any.”

"Why buy rice? We Shanxi people generally don't eat rice. Millet porridge and white flour steamed buns are what we eat properly. Rice doesn't fill you up." Liu Jianjun chewed on the flatbread with gusto, smacking his lips with delight.

"Whenever there are holidays or festivals, if relatives or friends come to visit, you always have to treat them to a meal," my wife complained.

“Yes! But there are still almost half a year until the New Year. You buy rice but don’t eat it. Aren’t you afraid it will spoil?” Liu Jianjun’s gaze suddenly froze as he said this. He looked up at his wife and said, “What did I just say?”

His wife looked at him in surprise: "You said there are still half a year until the New Year, and you're worried that the rice you buy will spoil."

"Not this sentence, it's the one before it!"

"That sentence in front of me—?" My wife tried her best to recall. "Oh, you said that people from Shanxi generally don't eat rice, they eat millet porridge and wheat flour—"

"Yes, that's the line." Liu Jianjun put down his chopsticks and got up to put on his clothes. Completely ignoring his wife's surprised questioning behind him, he opened the door and went out.

Liu Jianjun hurriedly walked towards the morgue, where four corpses were waiting for him.

People in Shanxi traditionally eat mostly noodles, preparing them in various ways. Only during festivals or when very important guests arrive will they steam a pot of rice. That old man was poor and lonely; why would anyone give him rice? Besides, he had examined the remains at the scene during the day. There wasn't a single grain of rice in the old man's stomach. That's why he had a strange feeling when he saw that grain of rice. Perhaps that grain of rice could reveal the true cause of the old man's death? Liu Jianjun pondered as he walked.

From afar, you can already see the morgue on the construction site, dark and gloomy, like a monster crouching there, waiting to devour its prey.

Liu Jianjun borrowed a flashlight from a nearby house and slowly walked inside. He tried hard to recall where he had thrown the grain of rice that day, carefully searching the area he remembered. When the grain of rice appeared in the light, he breathed a sigh of relief and carefully tucked it into the evidence bag he was carrying. Then he turned off the flashlight, and in the instant the light disappeared, he felt that the grain of rice seemed to have glowed for a moment. Perhaps it was residual light. He thought, and turned to leave.

Being too smart is never a good thing!

---janeadam

Reply [12]: Liu Jianjun had already left the shed and was heading home. At this moment, for some unknown reason, he suddenly thought of the mysterious deaths of Zhang Yongwang and his wife: "The two cases have so many similarities, perhaps they were committed by the same murderer? Maybe there are clues left on the bodies of Zhang Yongwang and his wife?" Thinking this, he turned back into the shed, uncovered the tarpaulin covering Zhang Yongwang and his wife, and carefully searched the pile of flesh with a flashlight. There were no suspicious marks on the head, in the mouth, nostrils, ear holes, neck, shoulder, chest, abdomen, pelvis, thighs, knees, calves, and even the soles of the feet. Liu Jianjun was not giving up. He carefully examined those hidden corners, between the toes, in the groin, inside the navel, under the armpits, inside the hair, inside the ear, and-------?

Cuihua's fingernails were very short, only slightly longer on her thumbs. Tiny white fragments were found between the fingers of her right thumb. Liu Jianjun quickly checked his left thumb, and sure enough, there were the same white fragments between his fingers. Those must be the marks left by Cuihua as she desperately clung to him before she died. Liu Jianjun hurriedly took out a small scraper, opened the evidence bag, and slowly scraped the fragments into the bag. His nerves were so tense that he even hallucinated hearing a soft chuckle.

He stood up in alarm and scanned the dark morgue with his flashlight.

There was no one there. Yes, there was no one there.

He stuffed the plastic evidence bag into his pocket, covered the body with the cloth, and then hurriedly left.

When he got home, his wife was already asleep. He quietly washed up, took off his clothes, hung them on the back of the chair in front of the bed, and then went to bed.

The night was dark and utterly silent. Liu Jianjun and his wife were snoring evenly in bed. They didn't hear the faint creaking of their door. The door was slowly pushed open, and a dark figure, shrouded in the autumn night mist, silently entered. Even in the darkness, a pair of piercing eyes could be seen. The figure hesitated for a moment, then walked step by step towards their bed.

"Crack!" The cup on the table was swept by the dark figure and rolled off the table, splashing water everywhere. Liu Jianjun woke up with a start. He quickly pulled out a pistol from under his pillow, leaped to the corner of the wall, accurately turned on the lamp, and pointed the gun at the dark figure.

His daughter stood dumbfounded in the middle of the ground, staring in astonishment at the dark muzzle of the gun.

---janeadam

Reply [13]: Liu Jianjun put down his gun in frustration. His precious daughter had always given him a headache. She followed the rebels around making revolution every day and didn't come home for a long time. He tried to speak in a relaxed tone: "Why are you back today?" As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Why did he still speak in a challenging tone? Sure enough, his daughter glanced at him and said with a fiery tone: "I can come back if I want to. If you don't want me to come back, I'll go sleep at the headquarters!"

His wife, already awake, quickly threw on a coat and came out to smooth things over: "It's late, stop arguing. Have you eaten?" she asked their daughter with concern. Liu Jianjun glared fiercely at his daughter, finally shaking his head helplessly. He slowly walked towards the bedside, and as he passed his daughter, he smelled tobacco. His anger could no longer be contained, and he slapped his daughter across the face: "How old are you to be smoking? You're still a girl!"

The daughter was stunned by the blow, and hearing his curses, her eyes immediately reddened. She covered her face tightly with her hands, glaring at her father with hatred. The mother, after all, felt sorry for her daughter and rushed forward to hug her tightly, scolding Liu Jianjun: "Oh dear, how could you do this? You really can't bear to hurt your own daughter—huh?" She sniffed the air and added, "Daughter, you really are something, how did you end up smoking?"

"I didn't smoke!" the aggrieved daughter shouted, her face flushed red.

"You dare talk nonsense?" Liu Jianjun strode forward, feigning arrogance. His wife quickly blocked his way, while their daughter burst into tears, crying, "Hit me! Hit me! I didn't hit you!" The three of them began to struggle in the room. Liu Jianjun was already furious at his daughter's stubbornness, and with his wife constantly blocking him, she seemed even more emboldened. Liu Jianjun thought to himself, "I must teach her a lesson today." But his wife, head bowed, clung tightly to him, like a heavy weight on his body. With all his might, Liu Jianjun pushed his wife aside.

His wife was thrown far away, collapsing to the ground limply like a sack of flour, motionless. Liu Jianjun and his daughter were shocked, stopped fighting, rushed forward, and helped her up.

His wife's face was contorted in a strange way; she was already dead. Liu Jianjun felt her body growing increasingly stiff in his hands, overwhelmed with grief. He jerked his head up, wanting to scold his daughter, but found her squatting there motionless, her facial muscles contorted just like her mother's. It seemed she was enduring immense pain, but unable to speak. Liu Jianjun was horrified. He put down his wife's body and reached for his daughter. Through her body, he felt the blood within her rapidly expanding, surging like waves. He lifted her head; the despair in her eyes tore at his heart. He trembled, feeling as if his blood was boiling. He smelled the smoke growing stronger, filling every corner of the room. Releasing his dead daughter, Liu Jianjun looked around the room. His neck grew increasingly stiff; he tried to turn, but tragically found his own body gradually stiffening. His blood was rushing through his veins at an unbelievable speed. His head throbbed with pain, yet his tongue, like the rest of his muscles, wouldn't obey him. Finally, the blood surged through the walls of his blood vessels, rushing into his muscles. In that instant, the excruciating pressure vanished, and Liu Jianjun lost consciousness in that moment of relief. As he lost his balance and fell, he saw his water-soaked clothes emitting wisps of purple smoke.

Tens of thousands of people gathered around the construction site, watching as the bodies of Liu Jianjun and his family of three were carried into the morgue. The cramped morgue, originally built just for Wang Tiegen, now seemed incredibly crowded. Perhaps it would remain so? Another day and night had passed, and three more lives had vanished silently. What about next? Who will be next?

---janeadam

Reply [14]: Three people died under similarly bizarre circumstances, leaving no trace except for their pinkish lividity, distorted faces, and stiff, iron-like bodies. Everyone who saw the bodies knew in their hearts that they had been poisoned! However, the police investigators searched the entire scene but found no potentially toxic substance. People thought silently, their faces as gloomy as the sky, wondering if it was truly divine retribution. They turned their gaze to the overcast sky, and slanting raindrops drifted onto their faces; the first rain of autumn had arrived.

A gentle autumn rain fell all night, washing away the dust that had settled on the roads from construction, and absorbing the pervasive dust, leaving the air fresher than ever before. When they woke up in the morning, everyone opened their windows and strolled in the park, greedily breathing in the fresh, pure air, temporarily forgetting the fear of the past few days.

Breathe, breathe, how many people will never be able to breathe again?

Xiaomei skipped along the street, carrying an empty lunchbox. She had just delivered food to her father, a social science researcher. Her father, labeled a "monster and demon" by the rebels, was currently imprisoned in a cowshed for "re-education." Because of recent strange events, he hadn't gone to the construction site today and had asked someone to send him some food. Her mother had severed ties with her father; only her grandfather was home, and he had managed to make some thin noodles for her to take. The cowshed was on the other side of the construction site. When Xiaomei arrived, the street was nearly deserted; she had bypassed the construction site to reach the cowshed. Now, as the street grew busier, Xiaomei felt a little oppressed. She hesitated, glancing at the sinister-looking construction site, but ultimately decided to take a shortcut.

Xiaomei stepped onto the eerie construction site, her head down as she jogged along the city wall, as if a demon would snatch her away if she looked up. Suddenly, she saw something, and her steps slowly came to a stop.

I don't know what people outside of Jinzhong call this stuff. After it rains, it appears on rotten wood or messy piles of garbage. It looks like a mushroom, but much bigger, and comes in chunks. We call it "Di Hulun" (地囫囵) where I'm from, and it's edible. When I was little, I lived with my maternal grandmother, and after every rain, she would take me to the mountains to pick it. We'd cook it in dishes or meat dishes, and it tasted delicious. Xiaomei saw these "Di Hulun" everywhere near the city walls.

Looking at the clumps of wild vegetables on the ground, Xiaomei recalled how her father used to take her to the countryside to pick them after the rain when he was home. Her mother was still alive then, and the two of them would happily chatter on the hillside, gathering clumps of vegetables into a basket and bringing them home. Her mother would wash them, cook them, and the whole family would gather together to enjoy them. Now, that scene was a painful memory! Tears welled in Xiaomei's eyes. She sobbed as she squatted down, picking up a clump of vegetables with both hands, just like before. She thought, "Dad's locked up in the cowshed, and there's nothing good to eat at home. I'll pick some of these and cook them; it'll be something for Dad." With that thought, she opened her lunchbox and quickly filled it with vegetables.

The crowds walking on the street soon discovered the vast expanse of "land mounds" stretching out below the city walls. By the time Xiaomei got up to go home, many people were already picking the land like her.

Xiaomei ran home with great joy, pushed open the door, and called out in a clear voice, "Grandpa, I'm back!"

The seventy-two-year-old grandfather hobbled out of the house. "How is your father?"

“He’s fine, Grandpa. He even told you not to worry!” Xiaomei put down her lunchbox, opened the lid, and proudly turned to her grandfather, saying, “Grandpa, look!”

Grandpa took a few steps closer, looked carefully at the contents of the lunchbox, and said, "Oh, whole clumps of groundnuts, yes, yes, it rained last night. Okay, I'll make them in a bit, and you can take some more to your father." He picked up a clump of groundnuts and examined it closely.

---janeadam

Reply [15]: "I haven't seen such plump and tender ground lees in so many years! Things are so weird in this chaotic world!" The old man muttered to himself, poured the whole lunchbox of ground lees into the basin, and rinsed it with water. Xiao Mei was playing alone at the door. Many people who had finished picking were rushing home, and many others were hurrying over to pick more.

Grandpa spun the washed floor tiles dry, stoked the fire, placed the pot on the stove, and only when he reached for the oil bottle did he realize it was empty. The old man shook his head in dismay. He poured water into the pot, placed a steaming rack on top, and then tore the clump of floor tiles into even pieces by hand, placing them on the rack before covering the pot. He leaned against the stove, one elbow supporting his body. Being of advanced age, he unknowingly dozed off beside the warm fire.