It was still daytime, and the story's plot hadn't fully unfolded yet. Logically, an attack shouldn't be imminent, but in a supernatural world where anything could happen, who could say for sure?
Just as Chen Mo hesitated over whether to go in and investigate, the ajar door creaked open, and a white figure emerged from the darkness.
Startled, Chen Mo was caught off guard by the shadow. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a man in his fifties, of medium build, wearing a large mask and holding a flashlight. He had appeared silently behind the door, giving quite a fright.
With keys and free access to the morgue, this man was undoubtedly Old Zhang, the morgue attendant. No wonder he wasn't in the duty room earlier—he'd slipped into the morgue, fiddling around in the pitch black for who knows what.
Though Chen Mo guessed it was likely Old Zhang, he didn't approach immediately out of caution. Instead, he discreetly glanced at the man's feet.
Under the fluorescent light, Old Zhang's figure cast a long shadow on the ground. Probably not "one of those things."
Chen Mo breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Old Zhang, it's me, Zhao Heping. The director sent me to find you."
"The director? What for?" Old Zhang took off his mask, his dull expression shifting slightly.
This guy—was he genuinely clueless or just playing dumb?
"What else could it be? The missing corpse from last night," Chen Mo said, putting on a puzzled look. "Weren't you on duty here last night? Didn't you notice any clues about what happened next door?"
As he spoke, Chen Mo studied the man. Old Zhang, instead of staying put in the duty room, had gone into the morgue for some unknown reason—that seemed suspicious too.
Hearing Chen Mo's words, Old Zhang's expression turned hesitant, and he let out a heavy sigh.
"Dr. Zhao, it's not that I'm withholding information, but some things no one believes when you say them. The higher-ups have already warned me—if I keep spouting nonsense, they'll fire me."
Nonsense?
Chen Mo keenly caught this unusual description. It meant Old Zhang had indeed encountered something strange, possibly even a key clue to the incident.
"What nonsense? If it's a lead that can solve the problem, you should bring it up. Old Zhang, I'm here on the director's orders to get the facts. Don't hold back—say whatever you know."
Though phrased tactfully, Chen Mo believed Old Zhang, with his experience, could read between the lines: Forget your bosses—I've got the director's backing. Cut the crap and spill it.
After a pause, Old Zhang glanced around nervously, as if afraid the morgue's corpses might overhear. "This isn't the place to talk. Come, let's go to my duty room."
In the duty room, Chen Mo poured Old Zhang a glass of water. "So, what exactly happened last night?"
Old Zhang held the cup, his expression grave.
"Dr. Zhao, do you believe in ghosts or spirits?"
"What if I told you there was a corpse reanimation in the morgue? Would you believe me?"
Corpse reanimation?
Chen Mo's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
So the problem really did lie with that corpse...
Playing along, Chen Mo feigned curiosity. "Reanimation? How? Did you see it?"
Old Zhang immediately shook his head and waved his hands. "No, no, I... I don't have the guts for that!"
"Can you tell me the specifics?"
Old Zhang cleared his throat twice, as if organizing his jumbled thoughts from the tension. "Last night, I was on duty alone, so I fixed myself some snacks and had a couple of drinks. Before I knew it, I got a bit tipsy and accidentally dozed off in my chair. I woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. When I came to, I suddenly heard a banging sound. Curious, I groggily stood up, and then it hit me—the basement only has this duty room and the morgue. Since the noise wasn't from the duty room door, it had to be..."
He swallowed hard, reluctant to say the unsettling word. "But with the alcohol still in me, I grabbed a flashlight and decided to check it out myself. Just then, I heard a creaking sound, like a door opening, as if something was walking past my duty room."
"What was it? Did you see it?" Chen Mo interjected.
"See it? I was scared out of my wits! How could I dare to look? Think about it—what's next door? Could anything good come out of there?"
"And then?"
"Then... then I don't remember anything else."
"Nothing?"
Old Zhang's face showed a hint of confusion. "I was terrified at the time, but somehow, I just fell asleep. When I woke up, it was already daylight. Only then did I dare to check next door, and I found the morgue door securely locked, with no sign it had been opened!"
"Tell me, Dr. Zhao, could our hospital really be... haunted?"
As he spoke, Old Zhang's eerie gaze fixed on Chen Mo again, as if carrying some hidden meaning that was hard to decipher.
"Haunted? Don't talk nonsense!" Chen Mo cut him off sharply. "Your story sounds pretty far-fetched."
"Exactly! When the higher-ups came asking this morning, I told them, but they didn't believe me. They even accused me of spreading rumors and told me to stop talking nonsense. Hmph, I've worked at this hospital for decades—when have I ever spread rumors?"
Old Zhang's indignant expression almost made Chen Mo laugh. No wonder the man had looked so displeased when he first came to ask questions.
Having gathered enough information, Chen Mo didn't want to linger. Just as he was about to take his leave, a sudden image flashed through his mind—Old Zhang standing in the morgue with a flashlight.
"By the way, one more thing."
Chen Mo looked at Old Zhang, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"What were you doing alone in the morgue just now?"
In an instant, a strange look flickered across Old Zhang's face. Though it quickly returned to its usual dullness, Chen Mo didn't miss it.
"Nothing much. Just work—checking things out."
The morgue held only recently deceased patients. Chen Mo didn't think that was a valid excuse.
This timid Old Zhang suddenly wasn't amusing anymore.
In that moment, a bizarre thought crossed Chen Mo's mind: Old Zhang's true personality might not be what he was showing. So why was he hiding it, or rather, "putting on an act" in front of him?
An absurd idea suddenly popped into Chen Mo's head...
Would a veteran employee who'd worked in the morgue for decades casually wander in with a flashlight to rummage through the bodies?
No.
Only one kind of person would do that.
Chen Mo looked up, fixing his gaze on Old Zhang. "One last question."
"What else do you know about this Zhao Heping?"
Even though Chen Mo had taken off his work badge, Old Zhang, as the one who'd recommended him to the hospital, couldn't possibly be unaware of his position and details.
But then, something strange happened. Old Zhang didn't answer the question. Instead, his face grew increasingly serious, the earlier dullness completely gone.
"Can't answer? Then I'm pretty sure."
Chen Mo stared at him, speaking slowly, word by word.
"So you're also a participant in this story."