Death by Accident

"Ding ding..."

Zhao Ke had no idea how long he had slept before the alarm woke him. He shook his head, climbed out of the coffin, and looked up at the time.

It was already noon. However, the curtains over all four windows in the attic room blocked out the light. Even though the sun was blazing outside, the room remained pitch-black.

He had specially set that alarm. If he had not woken up by noon each day, it would forcibly rouse him.

Sitting up in the coffin, Zhao Ke stretched lazily. Although he had also slept for several days in that small town within the horror space, he really was not used to the hard beds there. In the end, he still preferred sleeping in a coffin.

Out of habit, he swept his gaze over the furnishings in the room. Only after checking the cabinet, doors, and windows and seeing no signs that anything had been moved did Zhao Ke climb out of the coffin.

Just as he was about to head downstairs, an idea suddenly flashed through Zhao Ke's mind. He turned back to look at the coffin behind him. Why not put the coffin into the Post Album too? Then I won't have to worry about where to sleep in the future.

His eyes lit up. He placed a hand on the coffin and silently recited, "Convert!"

"The object is too large. Your authority level is insufficient."

The icy notification immediately soured Zhao Ke's good mood. Still, strictly speaking, the coffin was indeed rather large.

Cremation was encouraged nowadays, and coffin shops had switched to making urns. Some coffins were rented out purely for ceremonial purposes, while very few were actually sold.

Lei Ke had asked someone to commission this one for him from an old carpenter in the countryside. The materials were nothing special, but it was a standard six-by-six coffin.

It was also quite comfortable to lie in. At first, he had not been used to it, but after sleeping in it twice, he found that he could no longer do without it.

Since the coffin was too large to convert, Zhao Ke could only abandon that little plan. He went downstairs and looked at the weather outside.

The skies had cleared. Sunlight streamed down beneath a vast blue sky, and after the earlier downpour, the air was exceptionally fresh.

His family's cafeteria was located in the suburbs. Normally, farmers who had made arrangements with them would deliver vegetables every day at four in the morning.

However, perhaps because of the heavy rain these past few days, the vegetable suppliers who had been scheduled to deliver had not come for several days, and there were barely any vegetables left.

He remembered that four guests had reservations for tonight. At the thought, the corners of Zhao Ke's lips lifted slightly. With a wave of his hand, he summoned his Post Album. Looking at the body parts stored inside, he narrowed his eyes as an idea took shape in his mind.

He picked up his motorcycle keys and was about to head to a produce market near the outskirts to buy vegetables when his peripheral vision suddenly caught the dark rosewood box on the table, along with the file envelope Lei Ke had sent him.

"An urn!"

The more Zhao Ke looked at the rosewood box, the more it resembled one. Then another thought occurred to him. If he died in the horror space someday, would this urn contain his ashes?

He glanced at the file envelope beside it, casually picked it up, and tossed it straight into the rosewood box.

He no longer needed those people's files.

Compared to them, the stories within the horror space felt far more thrilling and novel to Zhao Ke.

He threw the urn into the kitchen stove, mounted his motorcycle, and headed straight for the suburban produce market.

Eastern Han Produce Market was the largest agricultural trading center in the area. It took Zhao Ke only fifteen minutes to ride there, but it was already noon by the time he arrived.

Most of the fresh ingredients had already been sold out. What remained were either the unwanted leftovers picked over by vegetable vendors or stock that was not selling well.

Zhao Ke was in no hurry, because he knew that behind this produce market was a smaller market. That was his real destination.

"Take a look! Freshly picked bamboo shoots, nice and fresh!"

"Free-range eggs! Free-range eggs! Six yuan a jin, fresh free-range eggs!"

As Zhao Ke entered the small market, the first thing that hit him was the noisy chorus of hawking. Even though it was already noon, the place remained as lively as ever.

The people buying and selling here were not merchants. Many were villagers from the surrounding countryside, bringing vegetables they had grown themselves or fresh goods they had gathered from the mountains to sell in one place.

No stall fees were charged here, and it was a legal operation. It was also considered a local support project. With official promotion and backing, it had become quite a bustling marketplace.

"Young man, these are freshly gathered mountain goods. Take a look! They'll make wonderful soup."

Zhao Ke stopped before an old man and saw wild shiitake mushrooms in two bamboo baskets. After several days of heavy rain, wild mushrooms in the mountains would sprout almost immediately.

These mushrooms had to be picked quickly. If left too long, they lost their flavor. Zhao Ke looked at the mud on the old man's shoes and the hole in his trousers. Looking carefully, he could faintly see a trace of blood inside.

Clearly, the old man had suffered quite a bit to gather these mushrooms.

Unfortunately, while the mushrooms were good, no one had shown any interest all morning. Wild mountain mushrooms did not look appealing, and most people could not recognize quality goods, so the old man had not sold a single one.

"I'll take them all!"

Without asking the price, Zhao Ke took four hundred yuan from his wallet and handed it over. The old man froze, then hurriedly waved his hands. "That's too much, too much!"

"It's not too much. They're good stuff and worth the price. Sir, here's my address. If you have more in the future, just deliver them there. I'll take all of them."

"Th-this... all right, all right!"

The old man accepted the money, joy appearing on his face, though his eyes had also grown misty. Four hundred yuan was not much, but it was enough to buy medicine for his wife.

Carrying the mushrooms, Zhao Ke continued deeper into the market and bought quite a few more things along the way—chicken, duck, fish, meat, everything.

Ignoring the strange looks from others, Zhao Ke carried his large and small bags, chickens in one hand and ducks in the other, into the restroom. After a while, Zhao Ke emerged with both hands empty, making the old man watching the restroom stare wide-eyed.

Scratching his head, the old man hurried into the restroom and searched through it. He even rummaged through the wastebasket, yet he could not find so much as a chicken feather, much less a chicken. A moment later, he walked out with a baffled expression, muttering, "Strange, was I seeing things?"

"Boss, one bowl of wonton noodles."

After spending the whole morning shopping, Zhao Ke entered a wonton noodle shop on the left side of the market.

This Long Kee Wonton Noodle Shop was not large, but it was already a well-known local eatery. The five or six tables in front were all occupied, and a long line stretched out behind them.

Quite a few cars were parked outside, including some high-end sedans. They had all come to try the place.

Zhao Ke ordered a bowl of wonton noodles and stood there waiting. At that moment, a local news report played on the television hanging in the shop.

"Today in our city, a renovation worker died in an accident in the early hours of last night. According to the investigation, the deceased accidentally fell from the twenty-fourth floor while installing window glass. We remind everyone working at heights to keep safety in mind..."

Zhao Ke had not paid much attention at first. After all, such accidents happened every day. It was only because information traveled so quickly nowadays that they were frequently reported.

However, when Zhao Ke looked up at the news, his entire body stiffened. The renovation worker who had fallen was none other than Li Hongbing, whom Zhao Ke had encountered in the horror space.

In the horror space, Li Hongbing had been drugged unconscious by Xiong Er's mother and made into a pot of meat porridge. Yet in reality, he had died in an accident.

If Li Hongbing had died like this... what about the others?

He remembered the scar-faced man saying that one Post Point could be exchanged for a gold bar, with a guaranteed legal source in reality and absolutely no trouble.

A bold speculation immediately surfaced in Zhao Ke's mind. Perhaps some unseen force was constantly creating accidents to conceal the truth.

And behind those accidents, perhaps it was just as with Li Hongbing: killed in the horror space, then dead in reality by accident, without a sound, with no one noticing anything unusual.

As soon as that thought arose, Zhao Ke felt a chill down his back. Coldness crawled up his spine, making goosebumps rise all over his body.

Just then, Zhao Ke suddenly felt the flesh on his shoulder tighten. He turned his head slightly and saw that at some unknown point, a hand had come to rest on his shoulder.