Jiang Si is skilled at drawing talismans, but when it comes to painting, her skill level is even lower than that of a child.

Xie Wuyi was different; from a young age, he was groomed to be a noble young master.

He was an expert in all four arts: playing the zither, playing chess, calligraphy, and painting.

Zhou Chongyang was taken aback. "Master Xie, do you want to draw it?"

"right."

Fortunately, there were always some materials left over from the last event that were piled up in the office cabinets, so Zhou Chongyang quickly cleared them out.

He pushed the documents aside, leaving an empty space to pile up Xuan paper for Xie Wuyi to paint.

Xie Wuyi hadn't held a pen for many years, but this skill, like learning to ride a bicycle, was deeply ingrained in his bones.

As Xie Wuyi painted, a figure leaped onto the paper.

It must be said, the painting is incredibly lifelike.

He was an ordinary-looking person, the kind of person you'd forget as soon as you saw him on the street.

Zhou Chongyang looked the painting up and down, "Why do I feel like I've seen this person before?"

As soon as he said that, everyone's eyes turned to him.

Zhou Chongyang's surveying skills were exceptional; he could remember almost everything he saw around him, making him extremely useful on-site.

Zhou Chongyang frowned. "I'm sure I've seen him before."

But where is it?

He closed his eyes and kept recalling.

No one dared to disturb him, and even the sound of slurping noodles became quieter.

Jiang Si nodded secretly; her apprentice was quite capable after all.

“I remember!” Zhou Chongyang opened his eyes, his eyes bright and piercing. “Two years ago, a homeless man in the city was hit by a car and taken to the hospital. Citizens called the police, and it was Da Gang and I who responded to the call.”

Da Gang, who was called out, forgot to eat his noodles.

Throughout the year, they receive countless calls; how could they possibly remember them all?

But he was deeply impressed by this homeless man.

"Is that all he looked like?" Da Gang was a little doubtful of his memory. "His face was covered in pustules, he barely had any teeth left, and he was limping."

At this point, the others also had some recollection of it.

“But,” someone quietly raised their hand, “that homeless man looks like he’s dead.”

"When did he die? How come I didn't know?" Zhou Chongyang looked over in disbelief.

“He really died,” Li Ming said. “You were on a business trip in the next city at the time, and it was the rescue station that called to tell us.”

"Are you sure it's him who's dead?"

"I'm sure!" Li Ming nodded. "I went to see it myself."

"How did he die?"

"He just fell asleep and passed out. The forensic doctor went to check on him and confirmed that he had been dead for several hours. It was presumed that he died of a sudden heart attack in the early morning."

Sometimes it's very realistic. He didn't even have a name, and he was as insignificant as an inconspicuous ant on the road, not even worthy of being stepped on.

Natural forensic experts wouldn't say that the autopsy didn't reveal anything; after the coffin was closed and the case was settled, they would simply cover the body with a straw mat and send it to the funeral home.

Zhou Chongyang lost confidence. "Then I must have misread it?"

Jiang Si narrowed her eyes. "That's not necessarily true."

"Did he leave behind any of his belongings? Or anything that he had contact with?"

"Does his fingerprint count?" Zhou Chongyang asked.

He recalled that some of their documents required homeless people to put their fingerprints on them.

Because he is illiterate.

Zhou Chongyang found it hard to understand that there were still people in the new era who hadn't even finished elementary school.

There was no record of him in the household registration, and he was mute and couldn't speak. His sign language was a mess and couldn't be understood at all.

In this situation, it's completely unclear where he came from and where he's going.

Zhou Chongyang searched for historical materials in the database.

The young lady in the office who was organizing the documents was a very organized person; she had everything arranged clearly and I could find it in a flash.

Jiang Si and Xie Wuyi looked at the thin, yellowed paper, which contained only some routine records.

But this record may be the only proof that he once lived.

The homeless man probably watched some TV program and bit his own finger to get blood on his fingerprint.

There was a faint smell of blood in the air.

Jiang Si and Xie Wuyi placed their hands on it at the same time.

As they pressed their handprints, a mix of emotions—pain, resentment, grief, despair, and despair—swirled in their minds.

Everyone else was too afraid to even breathe.

They dared not even guess at such bizarre and supernatural phenomena.

When they opened their eyes, Zhou Chongyang asked anxiously, "How is it?"

"Was he really dead?" Jiang Si asked.

This made Li Ming lose confidence. "He should be dead. His body is cold, his lips are white, and his face is ashen."

He might not be able to tell how long a person has been dead, but he can still tell whether a person is dead or not.

Their profession involves dealing with the dead from time to time.

"Who was in charge of taking him to the funeral home?" Xie Wuyi asked.

"The people at the shelter." They don't need to bother with this kind of thing.

"Can I meet the person in charge at the time?" Jiang Si asked.

This must be possible.

Zhou Chongyang immediately made a phone call.

He had become quite familiar with the people at the shelter, and they would occasionally help lost elderly people and homeless people begging.

"Yes, yes, I need to talk to them about something."

"What?" Zhou Chongyang's voice rose involuntarily, "He resigned?"

"Do you have their ID information?" Upon hearing this, Zhou Chongyang felt a little uneasy, as if this was too much of a coincidence.

Wait for the person on the other end to send over the ID card information.

Upon checking on the computer, everyone's expression turned serious.

That person's identity information is fake; there is no such person in the system.

The shelter is a legitimate organization, and they will definitely verify the identity of the people they hire. Of course, many people at the shelter are outsourced, so the salary is not very high, and the requirements for hiring are not very high either.

There's no need to use a fake certificate to apply for a job like this.

Moreover, this person resigned the day after the homeless man was cremated.

Nobody would believe there wasn't something fishy going on.

"Well, another unsolved mystery has been added to the list," someone remarked.

Just when things seemed to be looking up, another problem has arisen.

“There’s no need to be so desperate,” Jiang Si said, taking the employment registration form that had been photographed over there. It had a small photo on it, which was blurry but still legible.

"Let me see where you are." Jiang Si said, just as she was about to calculate, then: "..."

"What's wrong?" Xie Wuyi asked. "You already have a face, is there anything Master Jiang can't figure out?" So what if you use a pseudonym, as long as you have a face.

Jiang Si can even calculate your plastic surgery results.

Jiang Si's expression also turned sour. She handed her phone to Xie Wuyi and said, "You calculate it."

Xie Wuyi chuckled and accepted it.

"Does this really require the two of us to work together?" Xie Wuyi said, starting to calculate as well, his expression mirroring Jiang Si's.

"This person..."

"What's wrong with this person?" the others asked nervously. It's just a fake document.

“This person has been dead for more than ten years,” Jiang Si said.