Chapter Forty-Seven: Interrogation

Old Wang boasted, “Leveled up by jumping off a building, you know. Tried a fancy jump, still didn’t manage to die. What are you so busy with?”

Wang Zixuan had been watching him for a while, wondering just how long Old Wang could keep up his endless chatter.

Wang Zixuan said coldly, “Try saying one more word.”

Old Wang suddenly sensed a murderous intent coming from Wang Zixuan, and couldn’t help but look over.

“Let’s go,” Wang Zixuan ordered.

But Old Wang just stood there, not daring to say anything more. Wang Zixuan strode over, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him inside.

Old Wang protested, “We’re all friends here! Well, you two get on with your business. Let’s catch up later.”

They led him to a room for photographs, then brought him straight to the interrogation room. Hao Yingjun followed Wang Zixuan in, clutching the file.

Hao Yingjun read, “Wang Dongxu, male, Department of Gradual Death, variant walking corpse. Ninety-six suicide attempts. Ninety-six!”

Hao Yingjun was so shocked by the number that he nearly bit his own tongue.

Wang Dongxu sighed, “This makes ninety-seven now. Every time I try to kill myself, I get caught. What’s the point of living like this?”

Wang Zixuan replied, “Do you think I enjoy dealing with you? Last time I told you, suicide is your own business. If you want to die, just do it—but could you at least die somewhere farther away? Don’t cause a public panic in my district. And please, make it quick and clean. Save our department some manpower, won’t you?”

Wang Dongxu replied, “I want to make it quick, too! I try a new method every time. I really don’t mean to trouble you.”

Hao Yingjun kept flipping through the records and exclaimed, “Variant walking corpse, extraordinary vitality. High temperatures, physical harm, talismans—none of it can cause lasting damage. Nearly impossible to die by unnatural means. The oldest on record: one thousand two hundred and twenty years. My god, over a millennium!”

Wang Dongxu muttered, “I’ve endured for over six hundred years already. Looks like I’ve got another six hundred to go.”

Hao Yingjun gaped, “Wait, so you were around in the Ming Dynasty?”

Wang Dongxu nodded, “The eighth year of the Yongle Emperor. When Wu Cheng’en was writing Journey to the West, I even chatted with him about life and dreams.”

Hao Yingjun was amazed, “Didn’t you stash away any treasures back then?”

Wang Dongxu replied, “Lost everything during World War I, World War II, and the Border Defense War.”

A flock of imaginary crows flew over Hao Yingjun’s head.

“You fought in all those wars? You’re something else! Hahaha!” Hao Yingjun laughed, but stopped abruptly when he caught sight of Wang Zixuan’s dark, menacing face. Terrifying.

Wang Zixuan snapped, “What are you two doing? Is this a restaurant? This is the interrogation room. Behave yourselves.”

He tossed a form over.

“Fill this out,” Wang Zixuan ordered.

“Alright,” said Hao Yingjun.

But as soon as he looked at the form, he realized he had no idea how to fill it out.

Hao Yingjun asked, “What kind of offense is this, anyway?”

Wang Zixuan replied, “Disturbing public order and safety. Detain him for forty-eight hours. And I’m docking another merit point from your record.”

“Why the deduction?” Hao Yingjun protested.

“Because I’m annoyed with you. Now hurry up and write it. Once you’re done, lock him up.”

“Where should I lock him?” Hao Yingjun asked.

Wang Dongxu finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’ll show you where. Don’t ask her, or you’ll lose another point.”

Once Wang Zixuan left, the air suddenly quieted. Hao Yingjun slowly walked over to Wang Dongxu, stretching his joints, which made Wang Dongxu shrink back in alarm.

Hao Yingjun asked, “You seem to know a lot about the Department of Supernatural Control. When you get into trouble, how do they always manage to find you?”