Chapter Four: The Head Has Grown Back

When he opened the bloodstained undergarment, what greeted him were deathly pale pupils. The woman’s head had her mouth agape, with blood quickly drying and black stains covering every orifice. In the center of her brow, the Yin Ghost Thorn was embedded, precise and unerring.

Fang Mu let out a long breath; it seemed the danger had passed. But what was he to do with this head?

In the pitch-dark wooden hut, Fang Mu sat holding the woman’s head. Her mouth hung open, revealing a crimson tongue within. Of course, Fang Mu harbored no special thoughts—he only wondered how to deal with this thing.

Gazing at the Yin Ghost Thorn still lodged in the forehead, and the blood-soaked undergarment covering the top, a sudden idea struck him as he recalled the remaining sachet.

He took out the sachet, removed the jade bead inside, and, looking at the gaping mouth of the woman’s head, was reminded of an old tale.

It was said the dead would have a piece of jade placed in their mouths, or, if poor, a mouthful of rice. Some believed the jade was for preservation; others thought it was to weigh down the tongue, to ward off calamities of the tongue.

Whatever the reason, the sight before him—a woman’s head with an open mouth and a jade bead in hand—looked exactly as if she was meant to hold jade.

A lonely, single man could never quite suppress his curiosity. Driven by both curiosity and a reckless impulse, Fang Mu cautiously placed the jade bead into the woman’s mouth.

“Still well preserved,” he muttered.

From a professional standpoint, this head, apart from the bleeding orifices and the whites of her eyes, was in rather good condition compared to other corpses.

Click!

No sooner had the bead been placed than the woman’s head emitted a sound like grinding bone and, astonishingly, her jaw snapped shut.

“My jade bead…” Fang Mu stared in astonishment at the head in his hands. Before he could retrieve the bead, the head underwent a bizarre transformation.

Starting from the crown, the head slowly crumbled to ash, vanishing swiftly.

Fang Mu was speechless.

Was this what they called losing both wife and soldiers? The jade bead might not have shown any use yet, but it was still his personal property, wasn’t it?

With a slap on the wooden bed, he muttered, “Don’t let me catch you next time—if I do, I’ll dissect your tongue.”

Harboring this vexation, Fang Mu lay on the bed, increasingly sleepless as he pondered the night’s strangeness and the thrill of his newfound skill—corpse-touching.

...

The next morning, Fang Mu woke up with a weary body, having not slept a wink. He yawned incessantly.

But as soon as he opened the door, sleepiness was startled out of him. The deeply wrinkled village chief was standing right at the threshold, and being so close made his lined face all the more unnerving.

“Fang Mu, there’s work again,” the chief’s wrinkles bunched together. “The authorities want you to come for another autopsy.”

Fang Mu was taken aback. “Another death?”

After last night, he was convinced things were far from simple.

“Who knows.” The chief, leaning on his cane, shuffled away without entering Fang Mu’s room. “You’d best hurry, it seems urgent. I need to pickle some vegetables, so I won’t chat.”

Fang Mu sniffed, realizing the odd smell from earlier was the scent of pickled vegetables.

Returning to his room to fetch his wooden case, he thought for a moment, then tucked the Yin Ghost Thorn and the bloodstained undergarment into his coat before heading toward Jinglong County.

...

At the county office, the same two constables from yesterday stood guard. But this time, both looked uneasy and didn’t even greet him.

At the gate, Fang Mu asked, “What’s with your expressions…?”

“Hush…” One constable gave a look, stealthily slipped something into Fang Mu’s hand, and whispered, “Fang Mu, be careful. We can’t say much, and I don’t know if this will help, but keep it for protection.”

Looking down, Fang Mu found a talisman in his hand and quietly gripped it.

From the constable’s secretive manner, something decidedly abnormal had occurred.

Inside, he didn’t see Magistrate Yu, but instead encountered the beauty with the tear-shaped mole, Qing Ruowu.

“Hurry, come with me,” she said, pulling him into the examination room before he could speak.

At the door, Qing Ruowu handed him a piece of pristine white cloth.

He caught the mixed scent of ginger, garlic, and vinegar on it, pausing in surprise.

Not bad—she learns fast...

Qing Ruowu deftly covered her nose with the cloth, urging, “Quick, we’re short on time.”

Fang Mu tied the cloth over his face and pushed open the door.

When he saw the scene inside, his brow furrowed.

On a straw mat lay the headless woman’s body, but a head had now grown upon her neck.

Qing Ruowu stood beside the corpse. “In just one night, it’s become like this. I’ve checked the body—there isn’t a single wound or mark on the neck. The head is perfectly attached, as if it never vanished.”

As she spoke, she tilted the woman’s head to show the smooth neck—apart from livor mortis, there were no other marks.

Fang Mu stepped closer. Though his expression stayed calm, his mind was racing.

This woman’s head was identical to the one he’d seen last night, but there was no blood from the orifices and her mouth was closed.

“See if you spot anything unusual,” Qing Ruowu said, stepping back to give him space.

Fang Mu began the autopsy.

Just as Qing Ruowu had said, the neck was smooth, with no wounds or stitches.

He pried open the corpse’s mouth. It was empty; the bead was gone.

Qing Ruowu didn’t interrupt, waiting quietly.

After a thorough search, Fang Mu finally found something.

[You have touched the corpse and gained a wisp of true energy, which can strengthen yourself and attack enemies.]

[You have touched the corpse and obtained a sealed letter; its effect is unknown.]

A peculiar sensation welled up from his dantian, filling it with a warm, fiery energy.

Fang Mu withdrew his hand and shook his head. “Nothing. I found nothing.”

He spoke the truth. With the head restored, there were no wounds, not even a sign of the fatal injury. It was as if the woman had died a natural death.

Had he not witnessed last night’s events, he would have believed it.

Qing Ruowu fell silent, her brows knitting into a mountain-shaped crease as she gently brushed her tear-shaped mole.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” Fang Mu said, packing his things.

“Wait.”

Qing Ruowu stopped him.

She fixed him with a serious look. “You mustn’t speak of today’s events to anyone. You know how strange this is. The more bizarre the matter, the fewer who should know.”