Chapter 376: Don't Go Looking for Trouble for Yourself

At the other end of the city, the old canning factory was shrouded in the rain.

The cold chain truck slowly drove in, tires rolling through standing water, the splashing water carrying an eerie oily sheen.

The car doors opened, and Driver Old Zhang and porter Xiao Wang jumped out. Rain hammered their raincoats, making a dense "patter" sound.

"Screech——"

Accompanied by a piercing "screech", the cabinet door slowly opened, and in an instant, a bone-piercing cold air rushed from the depths of the compartment, carrying the smell of cold and dead silence.

The low hum of the refrigeration unit inside the compartment was amplified several times over, cold air swirling in the air, condensing into a thin layer of mist.

Frozen blood frost covered the glass walls, forming eerie patterns; the two men's reflections showed in the frosted glass, their faces instantly pale with horror.

"Wh-what is that thing?"

Xiao Wang's voice trembled, pointing at the bloody pulp stuck to the glass.

Old Zhang held up his flashlight, the beam cutting through the swirling cold air.

Among that pile of frozen fish, a round thing lay quietly.

It was a human head, eyelashes and eyebrows covered in fine ice crystals, the back of the head blown open into a hole, blood frozen on the remaining scalp and hair, like a layer of dark red glaze.

Even more hair-raising, the corner of that head's mouth curved slightly upward, as if dreaming an unfinished dream, or perhaps having solved a riddle.

Old Zhang's voice was hoarse, not sounding like his own: "Looks like a human head."

"No... no way? You loaded this thing onto our truck?"

Xiao Wang's face was ashen, retreating while staring at Old Zhang, his eyes full of vigilance and distrust.

Old Zhang whipped around, shouting angrily: "Bullshit! Why would I load this thing!?"

Old Zhang's flashlight trembled, the beam jumping on the head: "Wouldn't be you who loaded it, would it?"

Xiao Wang's breathing grew rapid: "Am I fucking crazy? Load a human head onto the truck?"

Brief silence enveloped the two, only the refrigeration unit's hum echoing in the narrow space.

Xiao Wang's hand trembled as it reached for his pocket; the phone screen had just lit up when Old Zhang pressed it down hard, the force nearly making Xiao Wang drop the phone.

"What are you doing?"

Xiao Wang froze, instinctively glaring at Old Zhang: "Calling the police, what else!"

"Report what case?" Old Zhang almost squeezed the words from between his teeth.

He gripped Xiao Wang's wrist tight, eyes dark, voice even lower,

"Constables come, can you explain clearly? If they ask where the lower half of this head is, can we produce it?"

Hearing this, Xiao Wang felt his whole body go numb, like a stone was stuck in his throat.

He swallowed saliva, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty, voice smaller than a mosquito: "Then... then what do we do?"

"Eat it cold!"

Old Zhang gritted his teeth, voice carrying a ruthless edge,

"Just pretend we saw nothing. Hurry up, unload the goods, don't go looking for trouble for yourself."

Half an hour later, the workshop assembly line started running.

Mechanical arms fed the rock-hard "natural fresh meat" along with the synthetic frozen fish into the meat grinder, huge gears beginning to turn, emitting a deep roar.

The moment the gears meshed, the dull sound of bone and flesh separating was completely drowned in the machine's noise.

Bright red meat paste slowly flowed through pipes into cans; beside the assembly line, female workers wore masks, heads bowed, numbly repeating sealing motions.

Their eyes were hollow, movements stiff, no one spared a second glance at the can contents, as if it all had nothing to do with them.

Outside the window, the heavy rain continued.

Rain hammered the tin roof, making urgent pattering sounds, like a warning, or like despair's whisper.

The workshop's cold white lights illuminated the entire factory bleakly, light projecting onto the factory's outer wall, where that long-peeling mottled slogan was faintly discernible:

"Natural ingredients, healthy choice."

Rain flowed down the wall, converging into the drainage ditch outside the workshop, carrying away several strands of dark red liquid, seeping into the city's vast blood vessels — the sewer system...

By the canning factory's old family housing area, Han Zheng dragged his exhausted body through puddle after puddle, water splashing on his trouser legs, chill climbing up his legs to his heart.

He kept his head down, suit wrinkled, briefcase clamped tight under his arm, umbrella tilted crookedly, but rain still mercilessly soaked his face and shoulders.

He looked up, gazing at the familiar scenery that made him weary, those mottled walls, tottering windows, and rust-streaked iron gates, stirring an indescribable irritation in his heart.

From childhood to adulthood, his whole family had lived in the shadow of this canning factory.

Father, Mother, and later him and his younger brother grown up, all became canning factory workers. Day after day, mechanical labor.

The family dinner table never lacked cans, to the point that Han Zheng now wants to vomit at the smell of cans; he'd die before entering the canning factory.

After paying a certain price, he succeeded; he entered the Executive Government building, becoming a glorious temp worker in the Prison System Department.

"Damn Prison Department, treats me like an animal every day, even blacker than the canning factory."

Han Zheng complained as he walked, muttering low, resentful tone mixed with helplessness,

"Canning factory at least gave out some cans, these leaders only know how to..."

His voice was drowned by the rain, the alley's stone brick road wet and muddy, leather shoes stepping in puddles making low "squelch squelch" sounds.

His suit trouser legs were already soaked through, rain seeping through the fabric to his skin, icy and uncomfortable, but he couldn't be bothered to stop and tidy up, just wanted to get home fast, throw this terrible night to the back of his mind.

When he turned the third alley corner, his steps suddenly stopped.

A bare wire hung down in the middle of the road, like a venomous snake lying in quiet ambush, swaying slightly in the wind, its tip occasionally bursting with tiny sparks, crackling in the rainy night, extremely dangerous.

The wire wasn't very low from the ground, but the small puddles formed by rainwater were like traps hiding murderous intent, as if the slightest carelessness would bring the misfortune of electrocution.

Han Zheng frowned, staring at that wire, muttering:

"Utility poles are forever in disrepair, every rain someone gets accidentally electrocuted to death. The people above? Never care, hmph——"

He complained resentfully a few sentences, casually fished out his phone, wanting to call the police.

But he looked at the screen, only 3% battery left, and finally sighed, put the phone back.

"Forget it, let someone else call the police."

Han Zheng said with a self-mocking low voice, shaking his head.

"Anyway, it won't electrocute me."

Just as he was preparing to go around the wire, a strange whistling sound entered his eardrums.

That sound seemed to come from a very distant place, yet also seemed to ring directly in his Nao Hai.

Han Zheng's eyelids involuntarily grew heavy, and he staggered underfoot.

Han Zheng suddenly woke up, a sudden Kong in his heart.

However, it was too late—just as he struggled to stabilize his center of gravity, his leather shoes underfoot stepped on a loose stone. He lost his balance, and his body uncontrollably lunged forward.

At the same time, the briefcase in his hand flew out, drawing an arc, and smashed into the utility pole not far away.

The metal thermos inside rolled out, rolling a fatal skip across the pooled water.

Han Zheng fell heavily into the pooled water, mud splashing everywhere, instantly ruining his suit.

He wanted to get up, but felt as if his whole body were frozen.

Fear seized his nerves, his pupils dilated infinitely in the dimness, reflecting the slowly rolling thermos—the stainless steel surface reflecting a cold light from the electric arc.

…………

End of Chapter