Chapter 488: Surprise or Not? What Is This!

The moment Feng Ju pushed open the Patrol Bureau's main doors, a clamor of voices mixed with the stench of cheap tobacco rushed at him.

The hall was crowded with people; a dozen or so figures surrounded that filth-covered silhouette in the center.

Dong Ping's uniform no longer showed its original color; gray-brown rat fur and suspicious mucus clung to the fabric, his mechanical prosthesis was fractured at the elbow joint, exposed wiring dangling and swaying like torn intestines.

He hadn't changed clothes, but treated all of this as a medal of honor for his narrow escape from death, displaying it for everyone.

The only flaw was that his other arm was wrapped in gauze, blood still seeping through, emitting a foul sewer stench.

It was the brothers who couldn't bear to look any longer, who had bandaged and disinfected that pockmarked, bite-covered arm of his.

Xiao Wang from the Medical Room stood to the side, a forced smile on his face; he had spent 20 minutes bandaging that arm, vomiting twice in the process.

"Captain Feng!"

Dong Ping's suddenly raised voice brought the uproar to an abrupt halt.

He grinned, revealing an excessively radiant smile, and spread his one-and-a-half arms wide enthusiastically:

"Surprised or not? I crawled out of the sewer!"

Under the lights, his teeth gleamed with an abnormal luster, as if soaked in some liquid.

The onlooking colleagues tacitly cleared a path.

Everyone in the bureau knew Dong Ping and Captain Feng had the closest bond; otherwise they wouldn't have gathered at the Patrol Bureau in the dead of night to "celebrate his birthday" for him.

"I feel Captain Feng is so surprised he's about to cry." Someone muttered quietly.

A quick-witted constable even took out tissues in advance, ready to hand them to the soon-to-be-overjoyed Captain Feng.

Feng Ju stood in place, his eyeballs stiffly scanning the crowd.

Regarding Dong Ping's escape from death, Feng Ju had originally felt very guilty + surprised.

But right now, his mind was stuffed full of more important matters and people; his slowly beating heart was already filled with too much surprise — where was there any room left for Dong Ping?

Escape from death?

Hah!

Can that compare to revival from death?!!

Feng Ju's mouth corner twitched once, and in the end he only let out a muffled "Mm."

Then, without looking back, he passed through the crowd and walked urgently toward the Technical Division.

Dong Ping's smile froze on his face; his outstretched arms slowly lowered.

A drop of turbid liquid seeped from a gap in the gauze, landing on the floor with a soft "pat," releasing an even stronger sewer smell.

"Captain Feng might be... too surprised?"

The young constable tried to smooth things over, his voice growing quieter and quieter.

No one answered; people looked at each other in dismay, one after another covering their noses and dispersing.

Dong Ping stared dead at Feng Ju's retreating back, resentment he couldn't conceal surging in his eyes.

This completely deviated from his script — he had imagined Feng Ju would panic, or hypocritically embrace him and weep together.

He just never expected... he would be given the cold shoulder?

"He didn't even give me a hug?"

Dong Ping gritted his teeth; the wound under the gauze seeped more mucus in anger.

Originally, when that taxi brought him back, his dying wish was to play Feng Ju to death.

But now, he felt that would be letting Feng Ju off too easy.

"I remember the person Captain Feng loves most is his daughter, and the one he treats like an enemy is his son, right!"

His "dying wish" was sublimating — not only did he want Feng Ju dead.

He wanted him even more.

Dong Ping silently walked out of the Patrol Bureau; a taxi by the roadside, not a minute early nor a second late, happened to stop right there.

He climbed into the back seat, violently tearing off the bandages on his arm.

Festering flesh fell in flakes; putrid fluid dripped onto the leather seat, leaving dark green traces.

The driver frowned slightly, glanced at the rearview mirror; Dong Ping likewise raised his head to look at the rearview mirror.

Reflected in the rearview mirror was not a human face, but a skeleton wrapped in human skin: maggots crawling in hollow eye sockets, a few strands of unrotted tendon hanging from the mandible.

The driver frowned slightly, voice full of magnetism:

"Aren't you going to use his flesh to fill your own body? Why haven't you acted? Don't tell me you want to go back on your word?"

Dong Ping grinned; his mandible emitted a tooth-aching creak.

He took a dead rat from his pocket, its gray-black fur still stained with sewer filth.

He stuffed it into his mouth; the crisp sound of teeth crushing bone was exceptionally clear inside the carriage:

"How could I? I promised you, as long as you help me fulfill my dying wish, my corpse belongs to you. I'm already dead, so how could I go back on my word? I'm very grateful you gave me this opportunity."

"I just don't want Feng Ju's rotten flesh anymore."

He chewed, putrid juice seeping from the corner of his mouth,

"I want to use another, fresher, more tender piece of flesh to patch myself up. No problem, right?"

The driver watched Dong Ping quietly, feeling the resentment emanating from him growing ever denser, that resentment like materialized black fog permeating the cramped carriage.

Then, the driver let out a magnetic laugh:

"Of course no problem. A corpse that can obtain more complete salvation — who would refuse that?"

Feng Ju pushed open the Technical Division's door; a pungent chemical smell and the humming whir of machinery rushed at him.

This room, forever lit by pale white light, was like the Patrol Bureau's "evidence processing factory" — sometimes restoring truth, sometimes manufacturing truth.

In short, the Patrol Bureau's case-solving rate is inseparable from the Technical Division's silent support behind the scenes.

Deng Zhen was hunched over the microscope, his gloved fingers deftly manipulating a section of fingerprint film.

Hearing the door sound, his hand trembled, and half the fingerprint patch stuck crookedly onto the dagger hilt.

Feng Ju's face was dark, his brows knotted into a lump.

"Captain Feng... Captain Feng, the station's been short-handed lately; if some backlog cases aren't solved soon, it'll affect the monthly evaluation, so I only..."

Deng Zhen stammered an explanation, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Feng Ju waved a hand impatiently, cutting off his words.

He took out the already shattered storage card from his pocket and held it out to Deng Zhen:

"Can this thing be repaired?"

Deng Zhen took the storage card, his face instantly turning blacker than a pot bottom.

He shook his head helplessly and said:

"Captain Feng, smashed like this, our Patrol Bureau's tech can't restore it. Maybe Upper City has more advanced tech that could work; why don't you go ask the Special Commissioner?"

Feng Ju's heart gave a "thump" — ask the Special Commissioner?

Although he still didn't know what exactly was recorded on the storage card, its contents had made his obedient daughter commit patricide, so how could he dare let the Special Commissioner see it.

If the Special Commissioner saw it, even if he grew two more mouths he couldn't wash himself clean.

Feng Ju sighed irritably, pocketed the storage card again, turned around, and prepared to leave.

Just as he was about to step out the gate, his gaze inadvertently swept over a syringe on the table.

The syringe barrel was black all over, emitting a sinister aura under the dim yellow light; inside, metal particles like nano worms seemed to be wriggling nonstop.

Feng Ju's footsteps halted instantly, and he pointed at the syringe and asked:

"What is this thing?"

(End of Chapter)