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墨書 Inktalez
Zhong Kui's Diary
"Help... Help... Me!" Jin Zhao finally shouted.
I was about to step forward when Ding Fatty grabbed me and shouted, "Are you crazy? This guy can chop heads like cutting vegetables!"
Hearing this, I agreed. We exchanged glances and turned to leave, calling for help loudly at the door.
...
Around midnight, Ding Fatty and I walked out of the police station. The situation was crystal clear; the police hardly asked any questions. Jin Zhao stood next to Shih Chih-Yang, blood-soaked and holding a katana, with no one else around. It was as simple as one plus one equals two—if Jin Zhao wasn't the murderer, then all the pigs in the world would be laughing.
Back home, I threw off my robe onto the sofa, grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge, tossed one to Ding Fatty, and downed half of mine in one go. Burping, I turned on the fan and flopped heavily onto the sofa, staring blankly at the Flower Board.
"It's so hot!" Ding Fatty finished his beer in one gulp, took off his robe to reveal his wobbly belly, complaining about the heat. He walked in front of the fan for a while before grabbing half a watermelon from the fridge and sitting beside me, laughing, "Is that Jin Zhao crazy? Killing someone right in front of us!"
I didn't respond because I had a vague feeling that something was off about this situation. It seemed like there was something I had overlooked, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was.
Ding Fatty placed the watermelon on the Coffee Table and pulled out a watermelon knife from underneath it, blowing on it before placing it in front of him. "Ghost Brother, did this knife cut someone? It still has blood on it!"
"It's Kui, not Ghost! You illiterate! And by the way, my name is Zhong Zhengnan; can you just call me Brother Zheng Nan?" I said irritably.
"Brother Zheng Nan? Heh heh, why not call you Brother Hao Nan? A Hong Kong gangster, the boss of Causeway Bay sounds more impressive!" Ding Fatty chuckled mischievously. "I’m still Brother Shan!"
"You Brother Shan? You're at most a wild boar!" I could only laugh and scold him.
Zheng Haonan, Mountain Chicken, Banana Peel, Big Brother—this gangster movie series was once all the rage. It was because of their influence that I started getting involved in this life; otherwise, I'd definitely be a civil servant now.
"Hey, why is there so much blood on your knife?" Ding Fatty pulled out some napkins and began wiping it carefully.
Only then did I glance at my watermelon knife; the bloodstains were from a recent encounter with a beautiful woman I had invited over for a mixed wrestling match. She had been lazily slicing an apple with that knife while leaning on the sofa and accidentally cut her hand. I had tossed it aside without paying attention at that moment. Just as I was about to explain this to Ding Fatty, I suddenly felt something in my mind trying to surface but just barely out of reach.
What exactly is this?
"Brother Hao Nan, how many people have you cut with this knife? Look at the bloodstains..." Fatty continued to tease.
Right, I remembered, the bloodstains!
In Jin Yang's room, we turned to see Shih Chih-Yang's headless body leaning towards Jin Zhao. When Jin Zhao reached out to support him, the knife in his hand almost grazed Shih Chih-Yang's hand. Although Shih Chih-Yang no longer had the chance to complain, at that moment, Jin Zhao instinctively pulled back his hand, and the knife he held was gleaming without a trace of blood on it.
Yes, it was the bloodstains. I finally found the reason that had been bothering me. The blood on Jin Zhao's knife must have come from Shih Chih-Yang falling onto him, meaning that Jin Zhao did not kill Shih Chih-Yang; at least, this katana was not the murder weapon.
I immediately shared my thoughts with Ding Fatty, who frowned in recollection: "Oh right, I do have some impression of that. At that time, Jin Zhao's knife was resting on the ground, and when he went to support Shih Chih-Yang, there really wasn't any blood on the knife."
Then Ding Fatty jokingly added, "Could it be that Jin Zhao is a martial arts master? You know, like those who can behead someone in a flash without getting any blood on their blade? For instance, the ancient swordsman Ximen Chui Xue..." He seemed to realize his own theory was far-fetched and fell silent.
My mind raced with thoughts. If Jin Zhao didn't use this knife, then what weapon did he use? The police report was clear: the victim had been decapitated by a sharp blade. At the scene, besides Jin Zhao's katana, the only other sharp object was my nail clipper in my pocket.
"Bold hypothesis, seek verification! That's what my teacher told me! Let's start with a bold assumption," Ding Fatty seemed to know what I was thinking.
"Aren't you from Shaolin Temple? Does Shaolin Temple teach philosophy too?" I scoffed.
"Hmph, you don't get it? We're fully comprehensive; we even cover hygiene!" Ding Fatty boasted. Seeing my expression darken, he quickly changed his tone: "Let's assume for now that the murderer isn't Jin Zhao. Of course, it's not us either. There were only four people in the room; could it be that Shih Chih-Yang committed suicide?"
"Nonsense! Who can decapitate themselves with one stroke? There's a cervical vertebra in the neck! That's why executioners in ancient times were usually big and strong; decapitating someone is a physically demanding task. Without extreme speed, it's impossible to cleanly sever someone's head," I pointed at Ding Fatty's neck.
"Uh, what if Shih Chih-Yang had extraordinary abilities?" Ding Fatty stubbornly argued.
"Fine, even if Shih Chih-Yang had extraordinary abilities and could cut off his own head with one stroke, where's the knife he used?" I mocked. "Don't tell me he used an ice knife that melted into water after cutting off his head!"
Ding Fatty scratched his head: "Well, that's not impossible either. Hehe, they were standing by the window; after Shih Chih-Yang cut off his own head, he threw the knife out of the window!"
"Are you out of your mind? How can you see the window and throw the knife out?" I was about to continue cursing Ding Fatty when I suddenly stopped, realizing something.
Outside the window?
Yes, outside!
Could it be that the murderer was outside, using a knife to chop off Shih Chih-Yang's head, and then quickly escaping? Given the time and space, this possibility is very high.
I recalled carefully that although the Jin Yang Family was on the second floor, it was just the second floor. For someone agile, climbing up to the second floor would be effortless. Both Ding Fatty and I could easily leap up without any tools.
However, at that time, Jin Zhao and Shih Chih-Yang were about two meters away from the window. How long would that person's knife have to be? Was he wielding a Qinglong Yanyue Dao?
My mind was in chaos. It seemed I needed to go back to the scene to figure out what exactly happened.
After discussing with Ding Fatty for a while, I called Qingfeng Daozhang, telling him that I had calmed down from my panic and was ready to continue being a Taoist priest to earn a living.
Qingfeng Daozhang laughed and said, "You two really value money over life. Come on over; I happen to need someone to fill in!"
After changing into my Taoist robe, we took a taxi, which quickly arrived at Chaoyang City.
Inside the Spirit Tent, Jin Zhenzhong and Lin Xuan sat numbly in front of the coffin with Jin Xinghua. Especially Jin Zhenzhong and his wife—losing their father and having both sons imprisoned one after another—was truly tragic. I couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
When Qingfeng Daozhang saw us, he asked one of us to replace the Taoist priest performing rituals on site. I kicked Ding Fatty lightly, signaling him to go. Ding Fatty whispered back, "Damn it, I can't do that!"
Qingfeng Daozhang smiled mysteriously and pointed at the Taoist priest in the middle of the ceremony. "He can't either!"
"Then how can he keep reciting Nian Nian while waving a wooden sword?" Ding Fatty exclaimed in surprise.
"Just recite whatever you want—whether it's a three-character classic or Love Trade—just don't say it out loud; make sure no one sees your mouth moving!" Qingfeng Daozhang chuckled. "As for waving the wooden sword, just do it like Zhong Gui usually does; I'm sure you've seen enough of that!"
Hearing this, Ding Fatty understood immediately: "Isn't it just messing around? Who can't do that?" He stepped forward, took over from the Taoist priest, his lips moving wildly, hands dancing about, wielding a Peach Wood Sword with such fluidity that even Qingfeng Daozhang was left in awe, praising Ding Fatty as someone with great potential.
Watching Fatty getting into the swing of things, I smiled and walked towards Jin Family Villa. I wanted to see what clues were under the window of Jin Yang's room.
About fifty meters across from Jin Yang's window was a villa with a lit window. It was already past two in the morning, and most people in the area were asleep. The light was likely due to Old Man Jin's mourning music disturbing their sleep. Although the music had quieted down, it was still jarring in the dead of night.
Between the two villas was a lawn, with a few trees trimmed into spherical shapes, about a person's height. The lawn was neatly manicured, and as I stood on it, I felt the softness beneath my feet. If someone were to take a running leap onto the second floor from this lawn, they would definitely leave footprints.
I crouched down to examine the grass closely and found a deep footprint near Jin Yang's window. After locating the footprint, I estimated my jumping strength and walked to a spot on the wall that seemed about right. Sure enough, there was a very faint mark. The exterior wall of Jin Family Villa was made of a material similar to granite; if I hadn't been able to pinpoint the location, I would never have noticed this mark at night.
Looking up at Jin Yang's window, I envisioned that night’s scene in my mind: the killer took a running start, pushed off against the wall, leaped up to the windowsill, swiftly cut off Shih Chih-Yang's head, then flipped and jumped down before disappearing into the night.
Based on my deductions, Jin Zhao was innocent. But why would the killer want to kill Shih Chih-Yang, who was just a butler? Did this butler know something others did not, prompting the killer to silence him?
I was brought in by Jin Yang to help clear his name, yet things had developed to where I needed to first help Jin Zhao clear his name. I couldn't help but shake my head and chuckle bitterly; did I owe something to the Jin Family? Why all this trouble? We shouldn't be conflicting; after all, "Jin" and "Zhong" together still sound like "Jin Zhong Zhao."
Just as I was lost in thought, someone beside me suddenly whispered, "What are you doing here?"
I turned around in surprise to see a pure and beautiful face before me.
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