The moment Qin Manjiang saw him, he knew that this "self" standing before him was no longer alive.
After all, although this thirty-year-old Qin Manjiang looked almost exactly like him, his face was utterly bloodless, as were his lips, and his exposed skin was wrinkled from prolonged immersion in water.
More importantly, the man himself felt as though he was being drenched by the wind and rain, but in Qin Manjiang's eyes, there was not a single drop of rain on this "Qin Manjiang." All the wind and rain passed straight through his body. That was enough to show that he no longer existed.
Qin Manjiang had no idea what exactly had happened to him, either. He was dead, but his consciousness remained. However, Qin Manjiang was the only person who could see him.
Just then, a startled cry suddenly rang out. "Oh! Little Qin?"
An elderly woman in the crowd stared wide-eyed. At the sight of Qin Manjiang's face, even her lips turned pale. She was clearly frightened.
Hearing the commotion, the other villagers all turned and saw Qin Manjiang standing off to one side.
"Is... is that Little Qin?"
"Could he be a ghost?"
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then immediately erupted into an uproar.
Some said he was a ghost, some backed away in fright, some worked up their courage and approached with hoes, some ran off to scoop up manure water, and some looked at the corpse in the river, then back at Qin Manjiang, who had not moved...
Qin Manjiang knew that if he did not explain himself soon, either a few burly men would pin him to the muddy ground, or he would be taken for a ghost and have a ladleful of liquid manure thrown over him.
"Everyone, please wait! I'm