"Oh? How exactly did he die, then?" Zeng Mu hurriedly asked.
"Apparently, when someone found him, he was dead in bed."
"The housekeeper was drawn there by the stench. Only after calling out and getting no answer did she venture to open the door and discover him."
"The stench was like tree-of-heaven leaves mixed with rotting vegetable stalks, or that pungent smell of sulfur mixed with white vinegar. She could smell it from her room, four rooms away. She went to Feng Yue's door and called out a few times, then pushed it open when there was no response."
"The moment she opened the door, she screamed, her face turning as pale as carved white wax. Feng Yue lay sprawled on the bed, one leg stretched straight out and the other splayed sideways, his knee bent at ninety degrees and his toes pressed beneath his armpit. One hand was riddled with bloody holes, while the other had blackened like charcoal. As for his head... half of it had been gnawed away. The back of his skull was like a bowl of butter spilling over, soaking the pillow and bedding."
After hearing her description, Zeng Mu nodded gravely. He pictured the scene, then sighed. "Yes, that certainly sounds suspicious. Is there any more news about his death?"
"Come on, he's only been dead a few hours, and he held such a distinguished position. News of his death is being kept under wraps. I only managed to learn this much through the connections I've built over the years. It's already impressive that I know any of this. We probably won't learn the remaining details until tomorrow, or even the day after."
"All right, let's see tomorrow, then. His death may need a thorough investigation," Zeng Mu said. Something about the death seemed