Zhou Xiaoling feared very little in this world—except for ghosts. Since childhood, she had been haunted by ghost stories, and a part of her had always wondered if they might be real. Now, standing outside the morgue, she felt an eerie chill wrap around her—a cold so deep it seemed to seep into her bones. Her nerves tingled with dread.

She clutched Lin Xiaoxiao's arm, her fingers digging in. "Sister-in-law," she whispered, "why did we have to come here?"

Lin Xiaoxiao hadn't expected Zhou Xiaoling to be so frightened. Seeing her pale face, she spoke gently, without a trace of mockery. "This morgue hasn't been used in years. Look—the grass has grown wild, and the lock on the door is completely rusted. No one's been here recently."

But Zhou Xiaoling shivered nonetheless. "Still... people have died here. It feels wrong."

Xiaoxiao gave a soft laugh. "You were in the army. A place like this shouldn't scare you. Believe me, it's been abandoned for at least five or six years."

That only made Lin Xiaoxiao more curious. Five or six years? Could there still be bodies inside? And if so—had someone been conducting autopsies? No matter how influential the Zhou family was, or how capable Zhou Xiaocheng might be, private autopsies were illegal. They spelled trouble—deep, dangerous trouble.

Xiaocheng patted his sister's head gently before turning to Lin Xiaoxiao. "This is the place," he said quietly. "There's no dissection today. But I have questions—and I think you may have the answers."

Lin Xiaoxiao nodded. "I'm listening."

"Let's talk inside," he said, gesturing toward the morgue.

Zhou Xiaoling cried out, "Inside? No! It's almost dark—Mom always said places like this aren't safe. We could bring back something unclean... something that might harm the children. I'm not going in!"

Curiosity warred with fear inside her. She wanted to know what her brother and his wife were up to—but not enough to step through that door.

Xiaocheng smiled faintly and took her by the wrist. "Come on. Think of it as a test of courage."

With one sharp twist, he broke the rusted lock. The door creaked open, releasing a wave of damp, rotten air—a mix of decay and something else, something grim. A cold draft swept out around them.

Zhou Xiaoling shut her eyes tight and gripped her brother's arm, holding on as though her life depended on it. She focused on the warmth of his skin, the only comfort in this awful place.

Lin Xiaoxiao, by contrast, showed no emotion. She had seen death many times—had handled corpses, conducted autopsies. Fear didn't live in her world.

Inside, the morgue was thick with dust and cobwebs. Spiders lurked in shadowy corners. The room was empty except for three bare wooden stretchers in the center. Stains, dark and ancient, marked the wood—old blood, long since dried.

Xiaocheng watched Lin Xiaoxiao. She scanned the room with a cool, analytical eye. There was no fear in her—only focus. Zhou Huai'an was right, he thought. She's not like other women.

"Sister-in-law," he began, "if we were to examine a body here—would the arrangement of these stretchers matter?"

She didn't hesitate. "The one against the wall. Your back is protected. You can see anyone coming."

Xiaocheng nodded. "And if you had to dissect a body here—could you document the process?"

"Easily."

He didn't ask more. Instead, he guided a trembling Zhou Xiaoling back outside, leaving the morgue behind them. Lin Xiaoxiao followed, a faint unease settling over her. Was that all? Why bring her here just to ask those questions?

Outside, Zhou Xiaoling breathed deeply, as if coming up for air. She patted her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. "Let's stay in the sun awhile—get rid of the chill," she urged. "We can't bring that air back with us."

Xiaocheng chuckled. "Still so superstitious." He tapped her head lightly. "Let's get soda."

He bought two bottles from a nearby store and led them to a bench. Then he began to speak.Fifteen years ago, a well-loved barefoot doctor lived in the area. He had a beautiful wife and a young daughter.

But beauty drew unwanted attention. The local security chief began to pursue the doctor's wife, especially when the doctor was away.

Times were hard; people were hungry. But the chief always found ways to indulge himself. One day, while the doctor was gone, he forced himself on the wife—using drugs to weaken her will.Afterward, overwhelmed with shame, she hanged herself.

When the doctor returned, he was broken. He wanted justice—but the chief had powerful friends. No official would listen.

So the doctor took matters into his own hands. He performed an autopsy on his wife's body, searching for evidence to clear her name.

And he found it—traces of another man inside her. But before he could present his findings, he was accused of her murder. They said he killed her out of jealousy, then mutilated her body in rage.

That fall, he was executed.

The chief, protected by his connections, moved away. He lives well to this day—unpunished, untouched.

As Lin Xiaoxiao listened, a cold anger filled her. How could the world be so unjust?

Zhou Xiaoling clenched her fists. "That monster! How does he live with himself?"

Lin Xiaoxiao's voice was quiet but fierce. "What happened to their daughter?"

If the girl was still alive, she'd be about Xiaoxiao's age. How had she survived? And what scars did she carry?

Xiaocheng thought of Mu Xiaowan—stubborn, rebellious, but still kind beneath it all. "She's in college now," he said softly. "A little impulsive, but good at heart."