Staring at the "Midnight Ghost Talk" friend request, after much deliberation, Chen Mo ultimately chose to reject it.
Curiosity is something everyone has, but he didn't want to stir up any extra trouble just to satisfy his own.
Steeling himself, Chen Mo restarted the car, drove for a while, and stopped in front of a residential complex. Then, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Chen Mo? This early?"
"The car's already back for you, parked downstairs." Hearing the voice on the other end, Chen Mo's reply was somewhat listless.
"Wasn't it your idea to experience a taxi driver's nightlife for some writing inspiration? So, how'd it go? Find any inspiration? Any romantic encounters?"
"Yeah, even two of them." Chen Mo gazed up at the sky with a hint of melancholy. "Are you up? Let's grab breakfast together."
After the bizarre events of last night, he was eager to soak in the lively atmosphere of people.
"What, two? Tell your big bro Fatty all about it!" Rustling sounds came through the receiver. Chen Mo hung up and tossed his phone onto the dashboard.
At a misty food stall packed with breakfast customers, the noisy chatter and the owner's bustling greetings made it hard for Fatty Feng to take Chen Mo's story as something real.
Fatty Feng was Chen Mo's friend. Though he seemed like a scruffy taxi driver, he actually owned eight apartments from his hometown's demolition compensation.
Once people have money, they tend to take things easy, so Fatty Feng drove his taxi quite contentedly.
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"
"Or just imagining things?"
Having heard the morning news, Fatty eyed Chen Mo suspiciously. "I told you, a decent guy like you, why write horror novels? Quit while you can, and we can still be friends."
Chen Mo rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue. They chatted aimlessly for a while longer. Seeing Chen Mo's lack of energy, Fatty assumed he hadn't slept well and told him to head home for a nap before getting up to pay.
Just then, Chen Mo's phone rang. He pulled it out and saw it was Old He, a professional tipster.
Professional tipsters are a group who provide news leads to the media and live off the fees. It sounds mysterious, but many are just bored retirees.
Since graduating from university and joining the newspaper, Chen Mo had been a journalist for quite a while. In recent years, newspaper sales had plummeted, and the fees paid to these tipsters had been cut repeatedly, but Old He didn't mind and kept at it happily.
Seeing it was Old He, Chen Mo didn't hesitate and answered. But as he listened, a strange expression crept across his face.
According to Old He's tip, early this morning, a medical dispute had erupted at the city's Seventh People's Hospital, drawing a crowd of onlookers who took photos and uploaded them online. It was now spreading like wildfire.
In today's climate of distrust between doctors and patients, medical disputes aren't exactly news. What made this one so sensational was its unusual nature—not a typical conflict, but the hospital losing a patient's body!
"Strange, isn't it?" Old He sounded puzzled on the phone. "With all those surveillance cameras, how could a body just disappear? And even if someone wanted to steal one, what's the use of a corpse?"
"What, got an assignment?"
Fatty turned back after paying and saw Chen Mo hanging up and rushing off. He couldn't help but smirk. "That shabby workplace of yours—pays little, but sure piles on the work."
"Alright, alright, I've got things to do. Next time, it's on me." Chen Mo was feeling unsettled and didn't bother arguing. He waved a goodbye, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for the hospital.
He hit traffic, crawling along for over an hour before finally reaching the Seventh People's Hospital. As soon as he stepped out, he saw a crowd gathered at the entrance—clearly, the issue hadn't been resolved.
Chen Mo pushed through the crowd and approached a staff member, stating his purpose. The staff member's expression stiffened, then he pulled out his phone and made a call. After what seemed like approval, he nodded politely and led Chen Mo through a side door into the heavily secured hospital.
Due to the dispute, the hospital lobby was nearly empty. The staff member didn't stop there but guided Chen Mo upstairs, all the way to the director's office.
"Talk to our director for the details." The staff member rubbed his hands and added, "As you can see, this mess has really hurt our hospital's reputation..."
With a sigh, he hurried off. The director's office door was open, and the man inside, having overheard their conversation, stood up and waved Chen Mo in.
From the staff member, Chen Mo had already learned that the middle-aged man with a troubled expression was Qin Yuan, the director of the Seventh People's Hospital.
"You reporters showing up is perfect—let's set the record straight. You have no idea how harsh those netizens are; they've been tearing us apart."
Director Qin said this while clutching his chest, looking like he might pull out a bottle of heart medication at any moment.
From Director Qin, Chen Mo got a rough picture of what had happened.
The deceased was named Qi Dongsheng, 35, a cardiology patient at the hospital. He had died two nights ago due to a surgical failure.
However, since his family wasn't local, they only arrived in Jiangcheng this morning after getting the news. They were supposed to handle the handover, but something baffling occurred.
The body, which had been properly stored in the hospital morgue, had mysteriously vanished overnight!
Hearing this, Director Qin was shocked and immediately sent people to search. But after turning the morgue upside down, they found nothing.
The truth couldn't stay hidden for long. Soon, the family learned of the missing body, sparking the heated dispute.
"Honestly, our hospital is a victim here too." After a thoughtful pause, Director Qin looked at Chen Mo earnestly.
"Reporter Chen, there's something else."
"It's not just the missing body. Our hospital also had a death this morning."