CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 38 MOVING

In the afternoon, Feng Yao left the Funeral Home. As for the follow-up to last night’s events, he had his hands full.

Zhang Laoxi signed his name on the files Feng Yao gave him and left in high spirits. He got an expert consultant fee from the Scorching Sun Department, and went through several magic artifacts in the process. Considering Zhang Laoxi’s contribution this time, the department would reimburse him for all of them—and most likely give him even better stuff as a bonus.

On top of that, this incident would rack up quite a bit of merit, which could be exchanged for nice things at the Scorching Sun Department.

Everyone else had left; only Wen Yan was left behind, bored at work, counting his leg hairs.

After stimulating his Yang energy and driving out the cold Yin lurking in his body, just two minutes under the sunlight was enough to make him sweat like crazy.

He hid in the little office at the Cremation Department, mooching off the AC. Old Zhang, always a science buff, looked listless, lying motionless on the little bed, with a talisman stuck to his forehead.

Last night, he had a face-to-face with a hopping corpse and accidentally inhaled some corpse energy triggered from the Wooden Armor Mask. Luckily, he reacted fast and slapped the controlling talisman for a walking dead straight onto his own head, keeping the corpse poison contained.

He’d already detoxed, but Old Zhang was still a bit uneasy, keeping the talisman on just to be safe.

But Wen Yan had a feeling Old Zhang was just using this as an excuse to slack off, avoiding any involvement in today’s business.

Before, when delivering a client to the Luxury Furnace, Old Zhang wasn’t at ease and was planning to come—but once he heard Feng Yao was busy with something else and wasn’t coming, and that Scorching Sun Department hadn’t sent anyone extra, Old Zhang just flopped over onto the bed, slapped a talisman on his forehead, and continued to play dead.

As far as he was concerned, he knew nothing about anything. Not seeing, not hearing.

Wen Yan felt that if Fake Mo Zhicheng tried to con a wily old fox like Old Zhang, it’d probably be a lot harder than tricking the average field agent at the Scorching Sun Department.

Sure enough, at four o’clock, a customer who’d booked the Luxury Furnace arrived at the scheduled lucky hour. After an entire day of playing dead, Old Zhang sprang back to life, full HP.

After wrapping things up, it was just past five thirty, and Old Zhang changed into his casual clothes and clocked out right on time.

People at the office gradually left for the day. The director, hands behind his back, came to the old administration building, unlocked the security door, and did a round through the place. When he peered through a window and saw, in one of the offices, a hopping corpse peeking out its feet from behind a cabinet, his eyelid couldn’t help but twitch.

Young folks really do have guts!

He had no idea how Wen Yan managed it, but with Wen Yan checking in and keeping the hopping corpse under control, he just tacitly accepted it for now. All he could do was continue pretending he didn’t know.

He went to the entrance, looked at the Employee Code on the wall, and found himself agreeing with some of Wen Yan’s ideas.

Every rule in this code, back in the day, had kept changing, keeping up with the times until they gradually became fixed as unbreakable rules.

Now, after all these years, nothing ever changes, and sticking to the rules by the book clearly can’t keep up anymore.

He’d lived through the era when dozens of these codes first took shape, so he was willing to take some risks and make a change or two now.

But only on the surface—he couldn’t know what Wen Yan was up to. Even if things spiraled out of control someday or any trouble came up, he, being the "clueless" leader, and Wen Yan, the only one who could enter the Old Ice Warehouse, would have room for negotiation.

If he led the charge and took the initiative, then the nature of things would be completely different.

The director carefully reviewed the Employee Code, then turned and took out something the size of a button, sticking it to the side of the entrance mirror.

"This thing links up with my phone—it’s high-tech. If anything comes up, use this to contact me. The code word is ’The sun’s up.’"

In the mirror, Old Wang stared at the director, cold-faced.

"You’re just going to let this go? You’ve always been the stickler for the rules around here."

The director locked his eyes on the Employee Code and replied slowly.

"I just reread the entire Employee Code, very seriously, extremely carefully—and I’m certain that, in theory, absolutely no one has broken a single rule."

Old Wang glared at the director, but the director’s face was calm as water—no blush, no ticking pulse, not the slightest hint of guilt in his eyes.

After holding the stare for a whole minute, Old Wang suddenly grinned.

"Old He, don’t let that young man end up like me. I’ve actually grown to appreciate him—he reminds me of you when you were young: full of ideas, gutsy and decisive."

"You mean I’m rigid and out of touch now?"

"That’s what you said. Not me."

"Hmph."

The director snorted, hands behind his back, and walked away.

In the mirror, Old Wang watched the director leave, then turned to look at the office hiding the hopping corpse, a smile on his face.

When Wen Yan first arrived, Old Wang actually looked down on this clueless rookie—he didn’t know a thing and would panic when something came up. Old Wang couldn’t even be bothered to show his face. But this time, Wen Yan’s approach made him look at the kid in a whole new light.

You can teach someone what they don’t know, and skills can always be learned. But if someone’s got no guts, sticking to the rules like the director, or dodging anything tricky like the old-timers, then they’re hopeless.

As quitting time rolled around, Wen Yan clocked out as usual and met up with the moving company as planned—today, he was moving!

His current neighborhood was an old complex packed with renters and full of strangers coming and going—a security nightmare, both for him and the other residents.

Now Feng Yao had arranged a new place for him, out on the border between city and suburbs. There was a small villa district—before the city’s northern expansion, this was all considered suburbs, and only places like this had room for villa developments.

But later, all sorts of ridiculous rumors sprang up—some said it was a former execution ground, others said it used to be a cemetery. Folks around here take that stuff seriously, so they started to feel uneasy.

Then some rich guy actually believed it, bought a villa here, and turned it into a yin residence...

But no one expected the real critical strike would come from bad sewer planning—the drainage was messed up. One time after heavy rain, sewage flooded everywhere and stunk the place out.

That hit harder than all the weird rumors combined.

So even though the place had been built for ten years, the occupancy rate never broke one-third. Secondhand prices, even with two parking spots, matched apartments with the same area plus two spots.

Wen Yan was moving into this very place.

This was company housing arranged by the Scorching Sun Department—and a villa, no less. Given his status, obviously nothing too fancy.

But Wen Yan was perfectly satisfied—a two-and-a-half-story detached little villa, already a rarity these days, simply decorated so he could move right in with just a bed.

Once everything was moved in and arranged, he had time to really take a look at the place. Honestly, nothing about it was bad—though the décor was a tad outdated, the materials were solid, the quality was good, and nothing was broken anywhere.

He walked up to the third floor, pushed open the French windows, and stepped onto the terrace. The first thing he saw was the neighbor’s house behind—every window hung with black curtains.

The satisfied smile froze on Wen Yan’s face.

Working at the Funeral Home, he knew exactly what that meant.

Now he finally understood why, even though the construction was solid and the standalone villa looked great, it landed in his lap.

Because—damn it—the rumors were true. Some rich guy really had bought a place as a yin residence, and it was right behind his.