Chapter 131

At 8:00 AM on April 16th, Feng Mu's biological clock woke him from his dreams right on time, just as it always did.

Even though two-thirds of his body had already undergone corpse transformation, strangely, his biological clock still operated with precise accuracy.

Feng Mu often felt puzzled by this absurd phenomenon: was the corpse deceiving the biological clock, or was the biological clock deceiving the corpse?

In the silent morning, Feng Mu's train of thought began to drift.

He would sometimes fall into strange contemplation: if the human soul truly dissipates without a trace after death, but the corpse continues to move like the "zombies" in film and television, would these corpses still retain the habits and instincts they had in life?

He imagined, would a swimming champion who excelled at swimming in life still instinctively soak in water every day after death?

Or, would a diligent corporate drone, even after death, still wake up at 8:00 AM every morning and habitually go to the company to clock in and sign in?

And would a technician addicted to work, even in death, still lie in bed every day, frantically pounding and twitching, becoming the hottest-selling health product — the inflatable doll?

These questions swirled in Feng Mu's mind, both eerie and full of philosophy.

After contemplating for a moment with no result, Feng Mu got up from the bed and reached out to pull open the bedside table drawer.

In a normal person's bedside table, there might be all sorts of items piled up like Xiao Yu San, massage wands, bullet vibrators, and so on.

However, Feng Mu's bedside table was different; inside, glass syringes and needles were always neatly arranged — he was a man who had transcended low-level tastes.

Rolling up his sleeve, he plunged the needle into his arm's blood vessel, and his muscles instinctively tensed and contracted.

Feng Mu laboriously drew out 200cc of blood, immediately feeling clear-headed and refreshed; although at the Martial Arts Hall he could give Yuan Xidi some blood bars every day acting as an "Iron Man Stake".

But, lacking the step of drawing blood with a needle, Feng Mu always felt out of sorts all over, as if missing a bit of devout ritualistic feeling.

Just like in a classroom's private corner, watching "study materials" on a phone, the difference between wearing headphones and playing aloud is just as significant.

The former always carries a few parts of sneaky secrecy, the passion seemingly discounted in the silent stillness;

While the latter, every ripple of sound spreading out resonates in the air, making every pore of yours climax, trembling manifold, to the point where even the soul trembles in ecstasy.

The analogy might not be entirely appropriate, but the deep meaning contained within, if you savor it carefully, has common ground.

Feng Mu gently pulled out the needle, his gaze lingering for a moment on those syringe barrels slightly bent from muscle tension, then unhesitatingly tossed them into the trash can.

"The syringe barrel can still be washed and reused; the needle can only be replaced and replenished."

Feng Mu sighed; he now controlled Ma Bin's wallet and wouldn't worry over small money, he simply found it troublesome.

Fortunately, these were merely trivial trifles in life.

Feng Mu quietly squatted in the toilet, meticulously finished washing up, and a kind of indescribable calm and tranquility surged in his heart.

The former "enemy" was gone, those secretly peeping gazes had disappeared, future retaliation had also been cleverly shifted onto someone else... everything was perfect.

Feng Mu's mood right now was like a serial killer who had just killed someone, entering a brief cooldown period known as Sage Time.

Head out.

He still straddled that dilapidated bicycle that had accompanied him through wind and rain, riding slowly along the familiar road toward the distant Incineration Plant.

After a full week of unauthorized absence, Feng Mu's wages for this month had already been deducted clean.

Ask for leave?

Nonexistent; this world has no "Labor Rights Protection Law", the fact that the Incineration Plant didn't directly fire and dismiss him had already greatly exceeded Feng Mu's expectations.

However, fortunately, Feng Mu didn't come to the Incineration Plant for that little bit of wages.

"Didn't expect the Incineration Plant to be quite humane, ah no, quite corpse-natured~" Feng Mu roasted open-mindedly in his heart.

Wang Jian was still squatting on the steps like usual, a cigarette clamped in his fingers, inhaling and exhaling smoke.

Feng Mu looked over at him, and inexplicably, he actually felt the latter's honest and rustic-to-the-core old farmer temperament was very much like a certain someone he had met once before... Zhang Hao.

Of course, for Zhang Hao, the old farmer color was merely a layer of surface disguise, while for Wang Jian, this was his truest appearance.

Probably... right.

When he saw Feng Mu's figure, the expression on his face instantly brightened, undisguised joy and excitement spilling over in words.

Squatting beside Wang Jian was another youth with a thin build and unfamiliar face, a mask hanging on his ear, similarly holding a cigarette in his mouth, taking intermittent drags.

When Wang Jian stood up and walked toward him, the latter merely stood up in place, glanced at him with a wooden gaze, then fiercely took two drags of his cigarette, casually flicked the butt on the ground, stomped it out with his toe, and then turned and walked back into the Incineration Room.

Feng Mu didn't mind either, looking at Wang Jian's face he also squeezed out a faint smile.

Before he could speak, Wang Jian poured out a week's worth of pent-up words like beans from a bamboo tube, the splattering sounds falling into Feng Mu's ears.

"Feng Mu, why didn't you come to work this week?"

"Sent you messages, you replied really slowly too, did something happen at home?"

"Oh, that guy just now is a new Incinerator Worker hired by the plant, named Zhong Lei, doesn't talk much."

"But don't worry, I secretly asked around, the plant has no intention of firing you; recently the corpse burning volume has doubled, the work is too much to handle."

"......"

Meeting Wang Jian's sincere and concerned gaze, Feng Mu patted the latter's shoulder, replying with half-truths and half-lies, perfunctorily brushing it off in a relaxed manner.

"Mm, something came up at home, someone was hospitalized, so I was delayed a few days, but don't worry, it's all handled."

"Workload increased again huh, good thing they hired another person, otherwise if you got worked to collapse, wouldn't that be my sin, sorry about that."

"Oh, named Zhong Lei is it, doesn't like to talk, no problem that's not a big issue, we'll get along slowly, after a long time it'll be fine."

Feng Mu's face constantly wore a faint smile, a smile that seemed to have weathered a storm yet remained warm as ever; his voice was gentle and calm, giving Wang Jian an inexplicable sense of conviction and peace of mind.

Feng Mu didn't tell Wang Jian that he might plan to resign later, no rush, he'd say it after the "Job Transfer" procedures settled.

He actually didn't need to come anymore; after all, a Blank Citizen resigning doesn't require any procedures, just don't take wages, come or not as you please.

But Feng Mu still planned to stand his last few days of post well, not for anything else, just because he was a person who valued sentiment, and also a person who saw things through to the end.

Looking at the corpse bags on the small iron cart beside him, together with Wang Jian each lifting one end, they carried them into the Incinerator; smelling the stench at close range, looking at those ugly, ferocious yet real and harmless E Corpse faces.

Deep in Feng Mu's heart, a long-lost sense of intimacy actually quietly welled up, as if in this foul-smelling air he had found that touch of deep solace that could comfort the human heart.

The corner of his mouth curved up slightly, and with a relaxed and humorous tone he said to Wang Jian: "Since the corpse burning volume has doubled, wonder if these E Corpses have extra Black Cores to reward you, to comfort you for your hard work in their funeral service?"

Wang Jian scratched his head, then carefully took out a heavy bag from the cabinet beside him and casually handed it to Feng Mu:

"It's all in here, our few Incineration Rooms' harvest for this week, all in here. Luck's actually not bad, 21 Black Cores total, you count them..."

Feng Mu took the bag, a trusting smile curving his mouth corner.

How would he bother to count it out; this man has always placed his trust in friends while harboring the greatest goodwill.

Feng Mu took out his wallet from his pocket, counted out a stack and handed it to Wang Jian: "The Black Core money, and the money I owed you before, here, you count it to see if it's right."

Wang Jian was even less likely to count the money; he now trusted Feng Mu extremely, trusting Feng Mu like trusting a spiritual Mentor.

In the depths of the Cremator, those once twisted and ferocious E Corpses slowly melted under the High Temperature licking of the Flame, the air permeated with the Fragrant scent of scorched Meat.

However, beneath this Flame's roasting, before the Stove was playing out without the slightest discord the most Ren Zhen and trusting Friendship in the mortal world, making the already scorching air all the more Warm and heart-warming...

Start of month asking for monthly tickets~

Discharged from hospital hahaha,

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End of Chapter