Chapter 6: The Poisoned Coroner
I rode my e-bike out of the nursing home, passing by that café on my way back.
Before I could figure out how to sneak in, two people were escorted out by police—each sporting shiny silver bracelets, flanked by officers on either side.
The café was cordoned off with caution tape, staff bustling in and out.
I didn’t dare ask the officials what happened, but I could loop around to the alley and eavesdrop on the neighborhood aunties.
At the alley entrance, I bought a pound of roasted sunflower seeds, sidled up to the chatting aunties, and casually offered them some.
“What’s going on at the café?”
With seeds in hand, the gossip flowed:
“Last Thursday, a coroner was drugged there. He had a family history of heart disease, and they slipped something called ‘amine’ into his coffee. Died before midnight.”
Another auntie declared with certainty: “That coroner was silenced!”
A… coroner?
Now I was even more confused.
Back home, I scoured local news online.
Finally, I found a snippet: “Coroner Zhou Wen poisoned at a café near Xishan.”
The accompanying photo showed the coroner’s mother clutching his body, wailing.
Wait—the tracksuit on the corpse looked familiar. I still had the receipt. I bought that!
Whether this was a ghost possession, a coroner’s resurrection, or something else entirely—
They couldn’t just keep targeting the already tragic Chen siblings, could they?
Anger and fear ignited a fierce determination in me.
I hailed a cab straight to Xishan Park. Money be damned—I needed to bring that fortune-telling “master” home.
The grubby old conman raised five fingers at the mention of a house call.
I agreed instantly, yanking him toward the taxi.
As we sped off, he finally asked in his most solemn tone: “Little girl, what’s the emergency?”
Panicked, I brushed him off: “My house is… unclean!”
The old man stroked his beard sagely. “Hearing marbles roll at night? That’s just stray spirits playing with eyeballs.”
I immediately regretted this.
That’s just concrete cracking—I know that much!
But who else could I turn to?
I dragged him home and upstairs.
A thin, middle-aged woman sat weeping on Chen Chengwu’s bed.
“Chen Chengwu” handed her tissues one by one, his own eyes red.
When they noticed me with the old man, Chen stood awkwardly. “Sister Wu, this is… my mother. She came to visit.”
Huh?
The woman, her eyes swollen, suddenly blurted: “Thank you, girl!”
I ducked behind the fraud, praying he’d sense something supernatural.
Instead, the old man ignored the very obvious “ghost,” rambling about bad feng shui and needing to “purge wandering spirits” for a hefty fee.
God, if my tenants hear this, I’ll never collect rent again!
Then it hit me—this woman was Coroner Zhou Wen’s mother from the news.
But the longer I looked at her, the more familiar she seemed.
Suddenly, I remembered the family photo from Chen Chengwu’s belongings.
As the conman droned on about “financial sacrifices to ward off disaster,” everything clicked.
First order of business: get rid of this fraud.
Once he was gone, I took a deep breath.
I’ve stumbled into something dangerous.
Am I next on the hit list?