False evidence

Chapter 473 Painted Skin (23)

Through the crack in the door, you could see that there was nothing else in the room except two benches supporting a red lacquered coffin!
"Damn it..." I muttered under my breath, my heart pounding.

Rather than being scared... I was genuinely startled. But I quickly realized it was like a hanged ghost looking in a mirror—scaring myself.

I remember when I was a child, many families in the village prepared coffins. Those were the 'old houses' that elderly people prepared for themselves.

Some elderly people, upon reaching a certain age, hire coffin makers to make coffins for them. Those with large homes dedicate a separate room to place the coffin, while those with smaller homes build a shed and place it there.

For every additional year an elderly person lived, their coffin would be varnished. In those days, the elderly person's children all considered this a good thing.

Some elderly people say: "I feel at ease when I arrange things myself. Otherwise, if my children are unfilial and don't prepare a proper coffin, I'll have to live in a leaky, two-inch plank bed in the afterlife. It would be a real shame to have worked so hard all my life."

Some people say it's superstitious: if you prepare a coffin in advance and place it at home, when the appointed time comes, the spirits that come to take your soul will see the coffin and assume that the person they're after is already dead and their soul has disappeared. So they rush to find the soul. And the person who was supposed to die will escape death and live a little longer.

Occasionally, there would be those simple-minded old men and women who had been stubborn their whole lives, and they would say:

While I'm still alive, those bastards keep nagging about dividing the family property. I'm not going to do it! Once I'm gone, they can divide it however they want. They can't just smash my coffin and each of them carry a piece of coffin board home to use as a bed board!
It's not that it's strange, but these kinds of old men and women are simply unpopular. Think about it, the neighbors find them annoying, and their children are even more of a worry.

In short, it was a custom in some areas in the past for living elderly people to prepare their own coffins, and even now, some elderly people in rural areas still do this.

The coffin prepared at home was painted red, indicating that the elder in the family must be in his eighties or nineties! When someone passes away, the funeral should be handled like a celebration!

"What's inside?" a voice whispered behind my shoulder.

I shuddered and turned around to glare at Old K.

This guy appeared under the eaves without me noticing. I don't know if I was distracted or if the rain was too heavy, but I didn't hear anything behind me.

He was dressed in all dark, stiff clothes and was carrying a black umbrella. At first glance, he looked just like the Grim Reaper from a Japanese movie!

I was startled by him twice, and I was a little annoyed, so I slipped through the crack in the door and let him see for himself.

He adjusted his glasses, forced a bitter smile, and said in a low voice, "My eyesight is getting worse and worse."

Thinking of his true identity, I felt a pang of sadness and self-reproach.

Tong Xiangnan is my maternal uncle. He has a terminal illness and it was to help me that he developed a split personality, Old K.

I'm still so petty...

"Sorry……"

Old K shook his head slightly and gestured towards the door with his chin: "What's inside?"

I was being honest, but halfway through my sentence, I realized that I seemed to have made a logical error.

In some places, the elderly still retain the custom of preparing their own coffins. But even in the countryside, it's done secretly, without making a fuss.

The houses in the courtyard were dilapidated, yet they were located in the city. Moreover, when I chatted with the landlady during the day, she mentioned that the shop was leased, but the house was rented. She said that she and her husband were the only ones making a living here, so why would they keep a coffin in a rented house?

I confirmed once again that Tong Xiangnan truly had a mental breakdown. Standing in front of me was Old K.

Having spent a long time with Tong Xiangnan, I am very familiar with some of his habits.

When he is thinking, his eyes will move back and forth very slowly. Once he has made up his mind, his gaze will focus on the person who has given him the doubt, and he will look directly into the person's eyes.

Old K, standing before him, was the complete opposite. When faced with a question, Old K's eyes remained fixed and unfocused, almost vacant, as if he couldn't concentrate. But once he grasped the crux of the problem, his eyes would gleam with an unusual excitement.

"hehe!"

Just as I expected, Old K snapped out of his 'stunned' state, his eyes gleaming and letting out a disdainful chuckle.

I asked him in a low voice what he was thinking about.
He shook his head. "I haven't completely figured it out yet, but I'm one step closer. I think we should see what's inside the coffins in this room."

I have to admit that both Tong Xiangnan and Lao K have the temperament to control and dominate the situation.

Perhaps this is inextricably linked to their thorough understanding of human psychology.

Hearing what Old K said, I subconsciously looked at the door lock and reached for my keychain.

Do you enjoy watching magic shows?

Old K asked with a smile, then with a flick of his wrist, he flipped his hand over, and when you looked again, there was an open padlock in his palm.

I stared at the lock that had been removed and murmured, "This isn't magic, it's sorcery..."

Old K looked regretful again and said softly, "There are some things I could have taught you, but unfortunately your fingers are too short, so it's hard for you to learn them."

I quickly shook my head. I thought to myself, if you taught me some little magic tricks, I could show off to pretty women, whether I knew them or not. But this ability to unlock things with a wave of my hand—I'd rather not be taught.

I'm not that self-disciplined. If I could go back to the end of last summer, when I was dirt poor, I probably would have become a thief who roams the streets at night.

I cautiously reached out and pushed the door open. The old, worn wooden door made such a slight, almost negligible sound when it was pushed open.

I looked at Old K: "This door definitely doesn't only open once a year."

In my childhood memories, there were many similar doors in my hometown village. Unless you were a very meticulous person who would sprinkle talcum powder into the door hinge groove every six months or three months, the sound of these doors opening and closing was as jarring as the meow of a cat in heat for the first time.

Old K nodded silently, gesturing for me to come inside.

I turned around, closed the door, and bolted it.

It was only then that they realized the house not only had its windows facing the courtyard sealed off, but also had no windows on the exterior walls; apart from the door, it was just one room…

"This looks like a grave!" I couldn't help but mutter under my breath. Unless it's a basement, what living space doesn't have windows?
Moreover, from the outside, the house originally had windows, but they were blocked off with bricks.

The room was locked shut, completely dark and airtight, with a lipstick-lacquered coffin in the middle. It was just like a tomb!

I've been quite considerate of my uncle; taking advantage of my good eyesight in the rain, I gave him the flashlight from the car.

At this moment, Old K put down his umbrella and took out his flashlight to shine it.

The electric light shone on the coffin, and the coffin's vermilion lacquer reflected the light, creating a flickering visual effect that made it appear even more eerie and sinister.

I swallowed hard, and after a careful inspection, I said, "There are no coffin nails."

Old K nodded slightly, "Then we should definitely see what's inside this coffin."

(End of this chapter)