Chapter 3

Watching Old Zhou's behavior, I felt somewhat annoyed. Why did I have to provoke him?

My eclectic antique shop closes promptly at 8 o'clock every day. After closing, I have many things to do on my own.

I really didn't want to waste half an hour cleaning up the pile of vomit at the door, but I also became curious. What could have provoked Old Zhou to the point of vomiting? Alcohol? Clearly not, I know his tolerance.

As a doctor, I absolutely believe Old Zhou has a stronger resistance to certain things than ordinary people. There aren't many things that could make him vomit.

I tidied up the clutter on the counter and waited quietly for about 7 or 8 minutes. Finally, Old Zhou, who had probably already vomited everything, walked back into the shop. The hot weather outside made his forehead glisten with fine sweat.

He wiped his mouth and sat down in front of me. It seemed that this method had allowed him to vent, and he looked much better. He took a deep breath, then said straightforwardly, "To be honest, this is your fault. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have seen that scene."

"Me?" I was somewhat surprised.

Old Zhou took a sip of water and lit another cigarette. This time, he said without any fuss, "Do you remember the time you pretended to be drunk and suddenly pulled me aside, speaking very seriously? You said, 'Old Zhou, the bodies used for teaching in the hospital, some of them are from executed criminals, right? If you want to be my brother, you have to believe me. When those bodies are brought into the hospital, you should recite a prayer I give you, and do certain things, like lighting incense and paying respects to the four directions. Do you remember this?"

"Ah, I was really drunk that time," I lowered my head and took out a lighter from the counter. It was a numbered Zippo commemorative edition. I rubbed it with my fingers, pretending not to care. In fact, I clearly remember that I wasn't drunk that time. I saw something I shouldn't have. I usually don't meddle in other people's affairs, but for a brother, I couldn't just stand by.

I knew Old Zhou disliked these things, so I could only use the excuse of being drunk to remind him a few times.

"You're lying, I know your tolerance," Old Zhou scolded me.

I pretended not to understand and just looked up at him, "Do you really believe in this? Did you really do it?"

"I did it every time, okay? Do you think I believe in this? I just cared about that one sentence, 'You want to be my brother!' I agreed, so I couldn't just pretend with you." Old Zhou's emotions were a bit agitated. He suddenly pulled out his wallet and threw a piece of paper on the table in front of me.

I didn't look at it. I knew what it was—the so-called 'prayer' I wrote for him when I pretended to be drunk, which he was supposed to recite when lighting incense. Because I was pretending to be drunk, the writing was a bit messy.

"What kind of nonsense did you write? It's gibberish, and I can't even read it smoothly. I always carry it with me to avoid forgetting it. This time, I saw that terrible thing because the hospital just brought in another body, and it happened to be from an executed criminal," Old Zhou looked at me seriously.

I felt a slight warmth in my heart. Sometimes, male friendship can be so simple. When you promise to do something for a friend, you don't take it lightly. It can be as simple as that.

"Tell me more," I picked up the paper from the counter, folded it, and put it back in Old Zhou's wallet, then handed it to him.

He thought it was a 'prayer,' but it was actually a simple spell, designed to communicate. The content could be understood as a mix of soothing and a small threat.

Old Zhou is a staunch scientific rationalist, but I know his八字 (bazi, or birth chart) is low, making him more susceptible to certain things. However, from another perspective, it also means his spiritual sensitivity is better than average. A small spell used by such a person would be more effective than if used by an ordinary person.

If he had a bit more 'talent,' I think the one who should have been taken away that year would have been him, not me. And that little dog would have been given to him, not me.

This thought seemed to sting my heart. I subconsciously touched the keychain hanging from my waist. It had a very special keyring made from a tuft of gray-black dog hair. My fingers habitually brushed over it.

I realized that the sadness from that time had not diminished at all; instead, it had become even more profound with time.

Old Zhou didn't know what I was thinking. He took the wallet and continued his story. As he spoke, the time was brought back to yesterday evening.

—分割线—

A corpse, for any ordinary person, is something that carries a certain degree of horror.

However, things always have two sides. For a hospital, a corpse is a very precious 'resource' because it is used for both teaching and research. In this land called China, due to a respect for ancestors and a belief in the sanctity of the dead, combined with a psychological aversion to not finding peace after death, there is a shortage of corpses.

Without going into the details, a small number of executed criminals' bodies are also a source of corpses for hospitals.

"To be honest, it was a coincidence. This week, I had three anatomy classes. As you know, our hospital is short of corpses. I've repeatedly told my students to cherish and respect the specimens, but that's just talk. In short, our hospital is short of 'corpses,' and it's affecting my classes. So, after class yesterday, I went to the morgue," Old Zhou paused.

The morgue he referred to is not the morgue where patients' bodies are stored after death.

Strictly speaking, it's more like a specimen room. It's a separate building in the medical college, and the large formaldehyde pools where the bodies are stored are in the basement of this building.

"Did you encounter something there?" I raised an eyebrow and asked.

"If I had gone in then, it would have been better. I wouldn't have encountered anything," Old Zhou frowned and lit another cigarette, looking a bit agitated.

I recalled that yesterday was Wednesday, the day Old Zhou had the most classes. After his last class, it would have been evening. If he didn't go in the evening, when did he go? Why did he say it would have been better if he had gone in then?

I was puzzled but didn't interrupt Old Zhou's story.

As Old Zhou continued, I learned that after his last class yesterday, he went straight to that building. The building is quite famous in the medical college, but not for good reasons.

As is well known, medical colleges often have their own horror legends. In the medical college where Old Zhou works, almost all the legends are related to this building where corpses and specimens are stored. Stories of suicides, sightings, and strange sounds are common, similar to other legends.

Old Zhou had taken me to that building before. Due to its location, it felt a bit cool, but to be honest, it was very clean, including the basement where the bodies were stored.

By 'clean,' I mean what it implies to those who understand.

So, I didn't really believe that Old Zhou would encounter anything there.

"I went to see the person in charge. I was just going to complain. You know, in school, if you don't put pressure on people, they won't do things properly. But yesterday, before I could even start complaining, the person in charge happily told me not to worry. The hospital had just received a new batch of 'corpses,' which would temporarily alleviate the shortage," Old Zhou stubbed out his cigarette. He probably smoked too much and didn't light another one this time.

"That's good news," I said casually.

"Yes, good news! But the problem is, I was happy and asked a question, 'Where did the corpses come from? And a whole batch?' It turned out that this batch included bodies of executed criminals. They were being frozen and undergoing some basic processing. They couldn't let the students see the blood and gore, right?" Old Zhou's emotions were a bit agitated again. It seemed he really regretted asking that question yesterday.

"Then what?" I habitually touched my keychain and asked, though I had a rough idea of what happened.

"Then what? I remembered what you said. Since I would be using those bodies, I decided to follow your advice and pay respects before using them. In our hospital, many teachers respect the bodies. Beyond respect, many doctors also perform some rituals, like lighting incense and offering words of comfort. You understand, in a place like a hospital, doctors either don't believe in anything or, as doctors, they deeply believe. So, what I did isn't strange. However, in others' eyes, who is Zhou Zheng? I can't openly do such things, or people will laugh at me," Old Zhou said, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Right, I understand," I added. Yes, this extremely rational guy would be laughed at by people who know him if he lit incense and paid respects, except for our closest brothers.

"But I still had to do it, right? I decided to go home and get some incense I had prepared, but I happened to receive a call," Old Zhou sighed.