The Doctor Who Died Suddenly

When Wang Quan arrived at Spring Return Hall with a few subordinates, the sun was already high. The pharmacy's storefront wasn't large, its black and gold signboard looking a bit worn, and the air was filled with a faint scent of medicinal herbs. A burly constable stepped forward and, without waiting for a response from inside, lifted his leg and kicked the door hard!

With a loud clang, the door shuddered violently, nearly falling off its hinges.

"Yamen business! Get the manager out here!" the constable roared, his voice so loud it silenced the street for a few moments.

A moment later, an old man in a gray long gown with white hair came scrambling out from the inner room. His face was devoid of color. He fell to his knees with a thud, trembling all over: "O-officials... this old man is the shop manager. May I know, may I know what orders you have?"

Wang Quan didn't speak, his gaze sweeping coldly over the pharmacy. The medicine cabinets were neat, the floor clean; it looked like an ordinary medical clinic. A subordinate behind him unfurled a portrait – it was a likeness of Doctor Liu, drawn by Wang Quan based on his memory from the illusion.

"Recognize this person?" The constable shoved the portrait almost into the old man's face. "Doctor Liu! He's committed a crime. Where is he now? Tell us honestly!"

The old manager squinted, examining the portrait closely. His face instantly turned ashen, and his lips trembled even more violently: "O-officials... you, you must be mistaken? Th-this is indeed Doctor Liu, but, but he... he died three months ago!"

"Dead?" The constable grabbed the old manager by the collar, lifting him nearly off the ground. Fierce light flashed in his eyes. "Bullshit! So many victims identified him, and people saw him prescribing medicine just last month. You're telling me he's been dead for three months? Dare to fool an official, and I'll tear this rotten shop down right now!"

"I wouldn't dare! This humble one wouldn't dare, officials!" The old manager was terrified out of his wits, tears and snot streaming down his face. "Doctor Liu truly... truly died of a sudden illness three months ago! Everyone in the shop knows, the neighbors all know! I even helped with his funeral arrangements! If you officials don't believe me, you can ask anyone, or you can go check the records at the West City Charity House; it's all documented! May I be struck by lightning if I've told half a lie!"

Wang Quan frowned slightly and gave a signal. The constable released his grip, and the old manager collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. Another subordinate immediately went inside to question the shop's clerks and apprentices. The answers they received were consistent with the old manager's; each swore that Doctor Liu had been dead for over three months, and some even pointed to the sky, claiming they had personally seen Doctor Liu's grave.

Wang Quan then dispatched someone to ride at full speed to the West City Charity House to retrieve the records. In less than half an hour, the subordinate returned with a document bearing the Charity House's red seal. It clearly stated Doctor Liu's name, date of death, cause (sudden illness), and burial location, all coinciding with three months prior.

The man was indeed dead.

How could a man dead for three months have been frequently entering and leaving people's homes in the past month, diagnosing them and prescribing medicine? And not just any medicine, but... a miscarriage-inducing drug?

Wang Quan looked silently at the old manager, who was still trembling on the ground, then glanced at the official death certificate. Unless it was the work of ghosts, it could only be someone impersonating him. Moreover, the imposter not only mimicked his appearance perfectly but also managed to precisely find pregnant women who needed to induce miscarriage and whose families had recently lost elderly members, fitting the conditions for refining the "coffin child" medicine... This was no ordinary feat. More importantly, the deceased had been dead for three months, yet the news hadn't been widely publicized. For the imposter to know and exploit his identity suggested a deep familiarity with Spring Return Hall and Doctor Liu himself.

Were people's minds being manipulated, causing the pregnant women's families to hallucinate? Or... was there a master of disguise, or someone skilled in manipulating memories, operating behind the scenes?

As his thoughts raced, a messenger hurried over, handing him a small bamboo tally: "Head Wang, Commander Chen's urgent order: This case is to be closed immediately. All files are to be sealed and no further investigation is allowed."

Wang Quan took the bamboo tally; it felt cold in his hand. He glanced at the Spring Return Hall manager, whose face was ashen, and waved his hand, "Let's go."

The group left Spring Return Hall in silence. As they reached the street corner, they vaguely overheard two idle men who had just emerged from a nearby tea stall talking in low voices.

"...Speaking of Doctor Liu, he was really unlucky," a tall, thin man clicked his tongue. "He was originally an honest doctor running his clinic. He wasn't getting rich, but he wasn't starving either. But somehow, he got involved with that person... And the result? He didn't enjoy any fortune, but he lost his life instead."

"Hush! Keep your voice down! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" The shorter, fatter man beside him nervously looked around and lowered his voice. "How can we discuss matters concerning such a big shot? They say he just dropped dead, sudden illness, the King of Hell wanted him, what could anyone do? It's just his bad luck, couldn't handle that 'wealth,' it was too much for him..."

Wang Quan's steps faltered slightly. He casually turned his head and asked a sharp-eyed subordinate beside him, "Who is this 'that person' they're talking about? Sounds rather mysterious."

The subordinate leaned closer, lowering his voice, a hint of reverence and caution in it: "Head, you might not know since you're new... They're most likely talking about... the General of the Middle Army."

General of the Middle Army.

Wang Quan's eyes narrowed slightly, and he asked no further questions. He looked up towards the most imposing and heavily guarded area in the city, where the county yamen and the residences of the military commanders were located. Sunlight glinted off the glazed tiles, reflecting a dazzling light that offered no warmth whatsoever.

"Case closed," Wang Quan retracted his gaze, his tone calm and unwavering. "Let's head back."

By the time they returned to the stone room in the garrison, which always carried a faint smell of mildew and blood, dusk had fallen. Wang Quan walked directly to Commander Chen's dimly lit doorway and knocked.

"Enter," Commander Chen's hoarse voice came from within.

Wang Quan pushed the door open and closed it behind him. Inside, there was only a small oil lamp, its light flickering erratically, casting Commander Chen's hunched figure onto the mottled wall, stretching it into a distorted shape. He was wiping his long, standard-issue saber by the lamplight, his movements slow and focused, without looking up.

The room was deathly silent, save for the rustling sound of coarse cloth wiping the blade and the occasional faint crackle of the lamp wick. The air was so thick it was suffocating.

Wang Quan stood before the table, silent for a moment, before speaking. His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly shattered the suffocating silence: "Was it that person?"

His question was abrupt, but Commander Chen's saber-wiping motion paused almost imperceptibly. He still didn't look up, his cloudy gaze fixed on the gleaming blade, as if there was something extremely captivating there. After several breaths, he finally spoke in an unnaturally level tone, devoid of any emotion:

"This matter is concluded." He paused, emphasizing his words as if to reinforce them, or perhaps to admonish himself, "It won't happen again."

The room fell back into a terrifying silence, heavier than before. The halo of the oil lamp flickered across Commander Chen's sallow face, making the deep scar look particularly ferocious in the interplay of light and shadow.

Wang Quan remained still, his gaze fixed on Commander Chen's calloused hands, their knuckles slightly deformed. These hands had wielded swords, slain monsters, and, like today, had wiped the corpses of countless sinful soldiers like himself, treated as expendable. He suddenly recalled the terrified, despairing face of the Spring Return Hall manager, the heart-wrenching pain of the fetus in the illusion, and the dying pregnant women and drained infants.

A cold, rust-tinged anger slowly began to brew and spread in his chest.

"These kinds of things," Wang Quan's voice remained calm, yet it was like an undercurrent flowing beneath ice, "have they... been happening a lot since he arrived?"

The moment he uttered the word "he," Commander Chen's head snapped up!

His usually cloudy, tired eyes now blazed with a sharp, hawk-like glint, fixing intently on Wang Quan's face, filled with shock, anger, and warning. His chest heaved violently, and the veins on the back of his hand, gripping the saber, bulged.

"Mind your own business! Stop asking questions you shouldn't!" Commander Chen's voice suddenly rose, a near-brutal reprimand that shattered the room's silence, making the lamp flame flicker. "Do your job, and protect your own life! As for the rest, the more you know, the faster you die!"

He stared fiercely at Wang Quan, his eyes menacing, as if he wanted to devour him whole. But upon closer inspection, beneath the ferocity, a deeper, almost overflowing weariness and despair could be seen.

"You can go now." Commander Chen finally seemed to have exhausted all his strength, waving his hand dejectedly. He lowered his head again, continuing to wipe the endlessly unspeakable saber, though his movements had become somewhat stiff and slow. He didn't look at Wang Quan again, as if the momentary lapse had never happened.

Wang Quan stood there for a few seconds, looking at Commander Chen's increasingly hunched back in the lamplight. The only sound in the stone room was the rustling of coarse cloth against the saber, more piercing than before.

He didn't ask any more questions, nor did he say another word. He simply clasped his hands silently, turned, gently opened the door, walked out, and then gently closed it again.

The faint creak of the door hinges was exceptionally clear in the silent corridor, after which everything returned to dead silence.