Chapter 58: The September 13th Incident

Chapter Fifty-Eight: The 9.13 Incident

The bell signaling the end of class rang quickly. Having slept through the lesson in a daze, Song Nianqiang left the classroom several minutes later. By then, Jiang Ningzhi was already waiting in the corridor. Many boys passing by couldn't help but glance at her, secretly wondering, "Who has the nerve to make the school beauty from the year above wait here?"

"Sorry, I'm late," Song Nianqiang apologized, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he and the big fat guy walked up to Jiang Ningzhi. Yet Jiang Ningzhi wasn't upset with him; she smiled and said, "Let's go, lunch is on me today." She led the way toward the cafeteria. Meanwhile, a pair of venomous eyes watched Song Nianqiang intently. Ren Tian whispered something to a student beside him, who snickered and walked away.

They queued for food, but Song Nianqiang had little appetite. Lately, he'd only eaten one meal a day at home, since sleeping all day hardly consumed any energy. The big fat guy also ordered just a little, though he'd spent all forty-five minutes of the previous lesson snacking without pause.

"Song Nianqiang, since you've made it into No. 1 High, you should study hard. Otherwise, it'll be tough to find a job later on," Jiang Ningzhi said, half in earnest as she ate. Song Nianqiang grinned and agreed repeatedly, though inwardly he lamented, "It's not that I don't want to study, it's just that I never have the time."

Soon enough, Song Nianqiang's stomach began to cramp painfully, cold sweat streaming down his face. Having spent so much time together, the big fat guy could tell immediately something was wrong, but Song Nianqiang was determined not to miss this rare meal with Jiang Ningzhi, so he grit his teeth and endured it.

The fat guy kept signaling to Song Nianqiang with his eyes, but Song Nianqiang stubbornly shook his head. Jiang Ningzhi had barely eaten, mostly because she wasn't in the mood. Ren Tian was indeed impressive, but Song Nianqiang was outstanding in his own way, aside from his abysmal grades.

She claimed she didn't want a romance in high school, but who doesn't harbor a dream—that someday her true love will come for her, riding a white horse. Jiang Ningzhi's thoughts were pure. She didn't want Song Nianqiang to offend Ren Tian; she was well aware of Ren Tian's influence, unrivaled in their small county. From what she knew about Song Nianqiang's family, he came from a single-parent household and wasn't particularly well-off.

The meal was hastily finished, and after waving goodbye to Jiang Ningzhi at the cafeteria door, Song Nianqiang dashed to the restroom—his stomach pain was actually the urgent need to relieve himself.

"Heh, Young Master Ren, your plan worked perfectly!" the student who'd left earlier returned to Ren Tian, giving him a thumbs up and flattering him. But Ren Tian's expression was sour; he hadn't expected Song Nianqiang to be so resilient. It seemed this opponent wouldn't be easily dealt with.

Time slipped by. That afternoon, Song Nianqiang attended class as usual, then went home with the fat guy after school. Everything seemed ordinary, simple, yet who could know what simmered beneath the surface?

The next morning at seven, the alarm clock rang. Groggy, Song Nianqiang reached out from under the covers to silence it. Five minutes later, the fat guy's alarm went off, but the big fat guy was dead asleep and didn't hear it. Song Nianqiang had to get out of bed and switch it off himself.

"Should I get up or not?" Song Nianqiang faced a dilemma. He glanced at the six coins on his desk, scooped them up, and blew on them, muttering, "If all six land tails-up, I'll get up and go to school!" He shook them in his hand, but in the end sighed, "Better not risk it, might as well sleep some more." So he settled back into bed and continued sleeping soundly.

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Song Nianqiang was roused by the glaring sunlight. As for his homeroom teacher, he never bothered about these two "bad students"—better they skipped class, so the classroom could retain some semblance of order. When they showed up, it was chaos.

It was Friday. According to school policy, they got a break every two weeks, so after today's classes, they'd have vacation. Song Nianqiang decided to skip school altogether. Now that they had a bit of money, he planned to visit the flea market to see if he could find any treasures.

Dragging the fat guy out of bed, the two slipped on flip-flops and left their rented room. But they hadn't gone far when they saw a crowd gathered. Curious, Song Nianqiang pushed through to take a look, and even with his strong nerves, the scene startled him.

A human skin was draped over the window. Below, a skinless corpse lay sprawled on the ground. The police hadn't arrived yet, so Song Nianqiang and the fat guy went up to the body for a closer inspection. There was nothing unusual about the corpse itself. Looking up at the skin fluttering in the breeze, both felt a chill and hurried into the room.

On the pristine white wall, a large character was scrawled in scarlet: Death.

The room was heavy with a sinister aura. Judging by the method of skinning, it had to be the work of a vengeful ghost—a skinning ghost, formed from extreme injustice suffered before death. The ghost had even worn red clothes, red pants, and crucially, red socks.

Such ghosts were exceedingly vicious. Once transformed, they would seek revenge against those who harmed them in life, using the same ruthless method—skinning, clean and efficient. Other than a small tear on the tip of the nose, the rest of the skin was perfectly intact.

"Looks like we'll be busy," Song Nianqiang whispered to the fat guy, who nodded gravely and pulled Song Nianqiang away. "Nianqiang, this vengeful ghost is no ordinary threat. You saw how brutal it is. I'm worried we won't be able to handle it and might end up cursed ourselves."

His concern was justified. Both of them had only recently recovered from severe injuries and had no confidence in facing such a fierce specter. Song Nianqiang shrugged it off, smiling, "Don't worry, my family has a silver talisman for protection. Even if we can't catch the ghost, we'll be safe."

Then he added, "Who knows, maybe we can earn a bit extra from the police this time!" Grinning slyly, he strode ahead. After this incident, their mood for the flea market was gone. It was best to prepare at home first. Such a ghost wouldn't stop at one killing—it was likely to commit more, just not immediately.

So Song Nianqiang and the fat guy left, reassured. According to the habits of such spirits, after killing someone, they needed to rest for three days. Even after death, the body's vital energy wouldn't dissipate quickly. The vengeful ghost risked being burned by the three flames on the living's body when stripping the skin, and would sustain injuries itself; three days was the minimum recovery time. If burned badly, it might take even longer.

Within three minutes, the sound of police sirens arrived. Clearly, the authorities were taking the case seriously—even the chief came in person. But when he saw the gruesome scene, he frowned. The forensic doctor came to inspect the corpse, but the more he examined, the deeper his frown became.

It was impossible to determine the cause of death. Song Nianqiang smiled as he left, now the scene was crowded, and the police chief hadn't noticed him or the fat guy. Many deaths in this world defy explanation, and are ultimately attributed to sudden death. But this one couldn't be lumped into that category—the skin fluttering on the window proved it was no ordinary demise.

Who would, after dying, get up and peel off their own skin? If the chief claimed that, he'd soon be sent to Mount Laoshan, famous for its psychiatric hospital.

"Chief, the body shows no signs of trauma. We'll have to bring it back for autopsy," the forensic doctor reported. The chief waved his hand, troubled; the case was so shocking that word would likely reach city and even provincial authorities soon.

To be skinned and thrown from the third floor, with the skin brazenly hung in the window—this was a direct challenge to law enforcement. The chief treated the matter with utmost seriousness, promptly forming a task force for the 9.13 case and launching a full investigation.