The man's neck was completely broken, and his head above the eyebrows had been slashed by some sharp object and was now gone.
Snow-white brain matter flowed down his blood-stained face, still steaming.
His hands and feet were twisted and broken, with sharp bone fragments piercing his skin. The unsupported flesh hung limply, resembling the limbs of a spider from a distance.
"Even in this state, he still keeps burning paper money. How obsessed is this brother?"
I was speechless.
When I first saw this man burning paper money at the intersection, I instinctively activated my third eye to take a look.
Although his yang energy was somewhat deficient, he was 100% alive, though he certainly isn't now.
I held my phone, hesitant. Given the situation, should I call the police?
He became a ghost the moment he died, but his obsession wasn't revenge; instead, he kept burning paper money. I was a little curious: who exactly was he burning paper money for?
That black sedan was clearly not from the mortal realm. In the brief moment I caught a glimpse, I realized that there was no one in the driver's seat!
This was clearly a case of ghosts taking revenge on people. Going to the police wouldn't do any good; they would just drag me over to give a statement. So I simply put my phone back in my pocket, lit a cigarette, and went over there.
The black sedan only hit the man, but it didn't extinguish the fire of burning paper offerings.
The paper money and gold ingots that the man had prepared were blown away by the gust of wind created by the speeding black sedan, scattering them all over the ground.
The man, now a ghost, numbly picked up the gold ingots and continued burning them. I patted him on the shoulder.
"Dude, the dead can't be brought back to life. Please accept my condolences."
The man did not react and continued to pick up paper money and ingots and throw them into the fire.
Seeing this, I took out a stick of incense and handed it to the man as if it were a wisp of smoke.
"Hey bro, wanna have one?"
The man finally reacted. He took the incense, lit it in the fire, took a deep drag, and turned to look at me.
Do I look like an unfilial son to you?
It was then that I noticed a photo of an old woman next to the fire; it must have been her mother.
My lips twitched. If you haven't done anything wrong, you have nothing to fear. Coming here in the middle of the night to burn paper money for your mother—if you're a filial son, I'll chop off my head and give it to you.
"Of course not, brother, you look like a very filial son."
Speak human language to humans, and ghost language to ghosts.
Telling him my true thoughts at this point would only provoke him, so I simply started chatting with him.
Sometimes people don't realize they've died, and they continue doing the things they were doing in life.
This man was clearly in this situation.
"Yes, I am a filial son, Mother, I am a filial son!"
The man suddenly looked terrified, tears streaming down his face, and knelt down, kowtowing to the photograph.
With each kowtow, his brains splattered all over the ground, truly emptying his mind.
Haha, you didn't treat your mother well when she was alive, but now that she's dead, you should show her kindness.
I sneered, dusted myself off, and was about to leave.
The current situation is quite clear; I've heard this story countless times.
It's nothing more than him forgetting his mother after getting married, driving his mother to her death. Then his mother came back to life, and the son was filled with remorse, but it was too late.
"My child, don't cry. I know you are a filial son."
Just then, the old woman's portrait suddenly spoke.
"Mother, it's good that you know, it's good that you know."
The man's expression changed from ferocious to calm.
I was stunned. This plot wasn't right.
"Brother, how did your mother die?"
"My mother?"
The man's neck made a creaking sound, and his head turned 180 degrees, staring straight at me.
"Who said my mother is dead?"
I can't catch my breath.
If your mother isn't dead, why are you burning paper money here in the middle of the night?
Are you out of your mind?!
I resisted the urge to lash out.
"Your mother isn't dead? Then who are you burning paper money for?"
The middle-aged man paused, then revealed a strange smile:
"I burned it for myself. Didn't you notice? Am I dead?"
What the hell is all this nonsense?!
Even after everything I've been through, I was at a loss for what to do for a moment, and just then...
A sudden gust of cold wind swept by, and the man's figure vanished, leaving only a ring of burnt paper ash.
Forget it, I'm tired.
I glanced at the surveillance footage at the intersection from afar, guessing that the police would probably come knocking tomorrow, so I dialed 110 and told them that someone had been hit and killed there.
Then, ignoring their questions, he hung up the phone and walked home.
Lifting the carpet again, there was still thick blood underneath, but this time the key seemed to be surrounded by an invisible barrier, without being stained at all.
I inserted the key and turned the doorknob. The first thing I saw was still the gruesome hanged ghost, but I found it much more pleasing to the eye.
If only other ghosts were so obedient and well-behaved.
After quickly washing up, I lay down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
The next day, I was awakened by a series of urgent knocks on the door.
"Damn it, who is it?!"
I'm extremely annoyed. Disturbing someone's sleep is like killing their parents. Oh, my parents are long dead, so it doesn't matter.
Seeing through the peephole that the person was a police officer, I immediately became much more polite.
The man in the lead was a policeman with a rather upright appearance. He looked about my age, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four at most, but he had two older policemen under him. It seems this guy has connections.
I sighed inwardly.
Seeing that I opened the door and seemed quite cooperative, the group of police officers breathed a sigh of relief.
I was a bit confused. They should have checked the surveillance footage. I was clearly not a suspect. Was it really necessary for so many people to come just to ask me a question?
"Go, look for it."
The man in the lead stepped aside. I thought he was someone important, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a dog—or rather, a drug-sniffing dog!
I immediately understood. They must have checked the chat history and found that I was chatting with thin air, so they suspected that I was high.
They might even suspect that I am a drug dealer, which is why they made such a big fuss.
I didn't stop them, letting the drug-sniffing dogs rush into my room and sniff around.
"This is my identification. My name is Zhang Qiang. Your behavior last night was a bit unusual. Would you mind explaining?"
Zhang Qiang didn't beat around the bush and went straight to the point.
"You should have already investigated my background, right? I'm a cobbler, and I can see things that ordinary people can't."
I said calmly,
Now that these police officers have found my address, they've probably dug up all my other information as well.
I had nothing to hide, so I decided to just tell you.
“Yesterday I was passing by the intersection and saw that man burning paper money, and then he was hit and thrown into the air.”
"But since his ghost came out, I chatted with him for a bit."
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