Dying from an Accident

"Ding ding..."

Zhao Ke was woken up by the alarm clock, not knowing how long he had slept. He shook his head, climbed out of the coffin, and looked at the time.

It was already noon. However, the attic room's four windows were covered with blackout curtains. Even though the sun was shining brightly outside, the room was pitch black.

He had set the alarm for a specific time. If he didn't wake up by noon, the alarm would forcibly rouse him.

Sitting up in the coffin, Zhao Ke stretched. Although he had slept for a few days in the small town within the horror space, he wasn't quite used to the hard bed. He admitted that he preferred sleeping in the coffin.

Subconsciously, he glanced around the room, checking the cabinet, doors, and windows. Seeing no signs of anything being moved, Zhao Ke finally got out of the coffin.

Just as he was about to go downstairs, a flash of inspiration struck Zhao Ke. He turned back to look at the coffin behind him and thought, "Why not put the coffin into the Post Album? Then I won't have to worry about where to sleep."

As soon as the idea came to him, Zhao Ke's eyes lit up. He placed his palm on the coffin and silently chanted, "Convert!"

"Object too large, your permission is insufficient."

The cold system prompt instantly soured Zhao Ke's good mood. However, strictly speaking, the coffin was indeed quite large.

Cremation was now promoted, and coffin shops had transitioned to selling urns. Some coffins were for symbolic rentals, with very few actually sold.

His coffin was specially made by an old carpenter in the countryside, arranged by Lei Ke. The material wasn't top-quality, but it was a standard "six-six" coffin.

Moreover, it was very comfortable to lie in. He hadn't been used to it at first, but after sleeping in it twice, he couldn't do without it.

Since the coffin was too large to convert, Zhao Ke had to abandon his idea. He went downstairs and looked at the sky.

The sky had cleared up, and the sunlight shone down on a vast expanse of blue. Coupled with the washing from the previous heavy rain, the air was exceptionally fresh.

His canteen was located in the suburbs. Normally, vegetable farmers would deliver produce every day at four in the morning as per their agreement.

However, perhaps due to the heavy rain in the past few days, the contracted vegetable farmers hadn't shown up for several days, and the remaining vegetables were dwindling.

He remembered that the reservation list for tonight was for four people. Zhao Ke's lips curved slightly. He waved his hand, summoning his Post Album, and looked at the pieces of flesh stored within. He narrowed his eyes, an idea already forming in his mind.

Turning to pick up his motorcycle keys, just as he was about to head to the farmers' market in the suburbs to buy some vegetables, Zhao Ke's peripheral vision caught sight of the dark rosewood box on the table and the file bag sent by Lei Ke.

"An urn!"

Looking at the rosewood box, Zhao Ke felt it looked more and more like an urn. He then thought, if he were to die in the horror space, would this urn contain his ashes?

He glanced at the file bag beside it, casually picked it up, and threw it directly into the rosewood box.

He no longer needed these people's archived information.

Compared to that, the stories within the horror space were what Zhao Ke found more thrilling and novel.

He tossed the rosewood box into the kitchen stove, hopped on his motorcycle, and sped directly towards the suburban farmers' market.

Donghan Farmers' Market was the largest centralized trading hub for agricultural products in the area. It only took Zhao Ke fifteen minutes to get there by motorcycle, and he arrived around noon.

Most of the fresh ingredients were already gone. What remained were the leftovers that the vendors had picked through, or unsold stock from a poor market.

Zhao Ke wasn't in a hurry, as he knew that behind this farmers' market, there was a smaller market, which was his real destination.

"Look, freshly picked bamboo shoots!"

"Free-range eggs, free-range eggs, 6 yuan a pound, fresh free-range eggs."

As Zhao Ke entered the small market, he was met with a cacophony of shouting vendors. Even though it was noon, the place was still bustling with activity.

The people buying and selling here were not merchants; many were villagers from the surrounding countryside, bringing their home-grown or wild-picked vegetables and fresh goods to sell.

There were no stall fees, and it was legally operated. It was also a local support project, and with official promotion and support, it had become a very popular market.

"Young man, these are wild mushrooms just picked. Take a look! They make a very tasty soup."

Zhao Ke approached an old man and saw shiitake mushrooms in two bamboo baskets. After the heavy rain in the past few days, wild mushrooms in the mountains would immediately sprout.

These mushrooms had to be picked quickly, or they would lose their flavor. Zhao Ke looked at the mud on the old man's shoes and a hole in his pants, through which he could faintly see a hint of blood.

It was clear that the old man had gone through a lot of trouble to pick these mushrooms.

Unfortunately, despite the good quality of the goods, no one had shown interest all morning. Because wild mushrooms from the mountains didn't look appealing, and most people didn't recognize their value, the old man hadn't sold anything all morning.

"I'll take it all!"

Without asking the price, Zhao Ke took out four hundred yuan from his wallet and handed it over. The old man was stunned and quickly waved his hands, saying, "That's too much, too much!"

"It's not too much. These are good things and worth the price. Grandfather, this is my address. If you have more in the future, just deliver them here. I'll take everything."

"This... Okay, okay, okay."

The old man took the money, his face beaming with joy, but his eyes were a little misty. Four hundred yuan, though not a large sum, was enough to buy medicine for his wife.

Carrying the shiitake mushrooms, Zhao Ke continued further in. He bought more items along the way, including chickens, ducks, and fish.

Ignoring the strange looks from others, Zhao Ke, carrying large bags in both hands, walked into the restroom. After a while, he emerged with his hands empty, causing the old man watching the restroom entrance to widen his eyes.

He scratched his head and quickly went back into the restroom to search, even rummaging through the trash can. Not a single chicken, not even a feather, was found. A moment later, he came out looking bewildered, muttering, "Strange, did I imagine it?"

"Boss, one bowl of wonton noodles."

After browsing for the morning, Zhao Ke walked into a wonton noodle shop on the left side of the market.

This Longji Wonton Noodle shop, though small in appearance, was already a well-known local delicacy. The five or six tables inside were all full, and a long queue stretched out behind them.

Many cars were parked outside, including several high-end sedans, all drawn by the reputation of the food.

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

"In our city today, a renovation worker had an accident early this morning. According to investigations, the deceased was decorating a window when he accidentally fell from the 24th floor. This station reminds everyone to always prioritize safety when working at heights..."

Zhao Ke didn't pay much attention at first. After all, accidents like this happened every day. It was just that with today's advanced information, they were reported more frequently.

However, the moment Zhao Ke looked up at the news, his whole body froze. The renovation worker who had fallen in the footage was none other than Li Hongbing, whom Zhao Ke had encountered in the horror space before.

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

If Li Hongbing 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, and it was guaranteed to have a legal source in reality, with absolutely no trouble.

Suddenly, a bold speculation entered Zhao Ke's mind: could there be a force in the shadows constantly creating accidents to cover up the truth?

And behind these accidents, perhaps, just like Li Hongbing, they were killed in the horror space and died in accidents in reality, silently and without anyone noticing anything unusual.

As this thought emerged, Zhao Ke felt a chill run down his spine. A cold sensation crept up his backbone, making goosebumps erupt all over his body.

Just then, Zhao Ke suddenly felt a tightness on his shoulder. He turned slightly and saw a hand resting on his shoulder, though he didn't know when it had gotten there.