Cat 246: No Paper Figures

Chapter 246: No Paper Figures

[Want to Be Human] livestream chat:

“Hahahaha, cat cub is killing me! Clearly scared stiff by the supernatural atmosphere, but still stubbornly talking tough. Let’s see how long that bravado lasts!”

“Honestly, I want to see him hard in another way…”

“Girl above, put your pants back on. The streamer gets mosaiced just for the cat cub licking the owner’s lips—you can’t expect to do adult things here!”

“Oh my god, this stream is way too PG. I’m a carnivore, you know!”

“Maybe it’s only a problem in cat form—if he turns human, maybe it’s allowed?”

“Makes sense. Ninth Master kissing cat cub didn’t get censored, so why does the system suddenly flag cat cub kissing the owner as overly sexual? The system just arbitrarily throws on a fig leaf—so weird.”

“Whatever the case, watching cat cub pretend not to be scared is hilarious! Hurry up and get inside the mortuary, I want to see what’s in there! Paranormal fans are loving this.”

Even though Yan Jiyun’s heart quaked in the eerie atmosphere of this old village, he steeled himself and walked into the mortuary alongside Ninth Master.

The mortuary was clearly dilapidated, its half-latched door little more than a few planks nailed together. When pushed, it wobbled, as if it would collapse onto the muddy ground at any moment.

Yan Jiyun and Ninth Master entered side by side. Yan Jiyun still clung to Ninth Master’s arm, refusing to let go, and Ninth Master was happy to let him hang on.

At this moment, all Yan Jiyun could think about was what was actually inside the mortuary.

Though it was broad daylight, the heavy, overcast sky made it no less terrifying than poking around in the dark.

Seeing how nervous Yan Jiyun was, Ninth Master decided not to tease him further, instead directing his subordinates to go in first and clear the place.

The subordinates, all NPCs, charged directly inside, opening a bright path for Yan Jiyun and Ninth Master.

The main gate was pushed fully open, revealing several unused coffins—some new, some old—set in the courtyard. The main hall’s doors were half ajar.

Ninth Master’s men went straight to open the main hall doors. There wasn’t much light outside, but even so, Yan Jiyun and Ninth Master could see the neatly arranged coffins inside—it was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

Yan Jiyun desperately wanted to curl up into a ball.

Wait—he was here to investigate Wei Liu, not to look at coffins. He could totally stay outside!

He stopped in the courtyard, asking Ninth Master, “We’re sure this is the right address, right? Let’s see if anyone’s home and ask a few questions.”

Ninth Master’s men had already gone inside to look for people. Before long, they all trooped back out.

“Ninth Master, there’s nobody inside.”

This result matched what Yan Jiyun expected. The mortuary was unoccupied, but the drying coffins outside showed someone must live here.

A quick-thinking subordinate went next door to ask, but the neighbors were either deaf elders, fools, or old women who’d dozed off while sorting vegetables—no one was lucid enough to talk.

Suddenly, their search for someone reached an impasse.

Yan Jiyun took a deep breath and headed into the main hall to look around himself—maybe he’d spot something everyone else had missed.

Seeing that Yan Jiyun, scared as he was, still insisted on going in, Ninth Master felt a pang of sympathy and followed him to lend moral support.

He didn’t ask why Yan Jiyun was intent on investigating these matters, but he was happy to keep him company. Seeing him made Ninth Master happy—nothing else mattered.

Yan Jiyun kept his eyes off the coffins, barely glancing at them before forcing himself to memorize their positions—no need for extra nightmares—his mind was already replaying a dozen horror movie plots.

He’d watched too many scary films as a child.

Things got worse further in, where along both sides of the hall were mannequins—some standing, some seated—made of straw.

Yan Jiyun’s scalp prickled. Ninth Master chose this moment to suggest, “Maybe we should turn back? Our goal is just to confirm whether Wei Liu really exists.”

But Yan Jiyun, already this far with company at his side, couldn’t bear to retreat.

“We’ve come this far, so… let’s just take a look, right?”

“All right, let’s treat this like a tour.”

With company, Yan Jiyun picked up his pace a bit.

He started a conversation: “Ninth Master, don’t you think this mortuary’s a bit odd?”

Ninth Master: “A mortuary isn’t a normal place to be—how is anything here ‘ordinary’?”

Yan Jiyun: “No, but think about what mortuaries do.”

Ninth Master: “They temporarily store coffins of the unburied, don’t they?”

Yan Jiyun: “Right, but most also stock and sell paper figures, right? Look around—do you see a single paper effigy here?”

Ninth Master looked with him; it was true—not a single paper figure.

If Yan Jiyun hadn’t noticed, Ninth Master in his love-struck state wouldn’t have noticed either. His full attention had been on Yan Jiyun.

“You’re right,” Ninth Master said, showing a spark of rationality but still not fully back to himself. “Good eye. Maybe this place just doesn’t offer paper figure services?”

Yan Jiyun: “Maybe.”

He recalled something odd—Cheng Xueying’s father had died yesterday in a severe fire, supposedly in his home courtyard. But when they’d seen her father in the yard, the building wasn’t burned much—barely charred on the outside, nowhere near enough to cause fatal burns. Yet he’d seen with his own eyes the tragic state of Cheng’s father.

It couldn’t have been gasoline; he’d detected no such smell on Cheng Liang. That guess didn’t hold up.

Ninth Master, as an NPC, could only follow Yan Jiyun’s logic to a degree—his thinking was shallower.

Yan Jiyun took another loop around the main building.

The place was being maintained—the main house had living quarters on both sides, and the water in the teapot was still faintly warm.

“So what’s the resident’s name here?”

Yan Jiyun poked through someone’s living quarters—even opening the cash box.

Ninth Master was impressed. Yan Jiyun was excellent at searching.

“Find anything?”

Yan Jiyun shook his head. The subordinates were helping search, but as NPCs, they wouldn’t proactively hand over the answer; he had to dig it up himself.

Tsk, the mortuary keeper was deeply concealed—something was off, or rather, there was a clue.

The first address didn’t exist; this one did, but there was no information about the owner. No information was sometimes the most telling kind.

Yan Jiyun pondered, “No ID, but the registry listed Wei Liu as the owner. What could we be overlooking?”

Ninth Master said, “Find the person and you’ll know. I doubt it’s that simple.”

Yan Jiyun sat down on a bench; Ninth Master sat beside him.

They coincidentally both folded their long legs, one staring into the overcast sky, the other looking at the sky-gazer.

Suddenly, Ninth Master noticed one of Yan Jiyun’s ears move.

He reached out and pinched Yan Jiyun’s ear. “Your ears move.”

Yan Jiyun: “…” Of course they did—he was listening. But damn, he’d forgotten he was now human, and his ears shouldn’t be moving like when he was a cat.

He slapped Ninth Master’s hand away. “Don’t pinch my ear.”

Ninth Master: “Not allowed?”

Yan Jiyun: “It’s not that. It’s just my turn now.”

Raising his hands, he grabbed Ninth Master’s earlobes, pinching them lightly—less soft and a bit thinner.

Ninth Master shifted back, quickly catching Yan Jiyun’s hands, and chuckled. “All right, I won’t pinch your ears anymore.”

When he let go, Yan Jiyun’s ears twitched again. Suddenly, he shot to his feet and pulled Ninth Master up. “Let’s go, someone’s there!”

In Ninth Master’s eyes, Yan Jiyun was all he could see. Even in a mortuary, his heart felt like he was out on a picnic.

Yan Jiyun had heard a sound behind the house, tugged Ninth Master along, and the subordinates followed.

Everyone ran up the mountain behind the mortuary. Through the brush, a figure could be glimpsed moving.

Ninth Master directed his subordinates, who finally proved their worth and managed to grab the fleeing figure.

Yan Jiyun was relieved not to have to give chase—mountain climbing was exhausting.

The man they caught was in his early fifties.

Yan Jiyun asked, “Why were you running?”

The man replied, “You were chasing me—am I not supposed to run?”

Yan Jiyun didn’t bother arguing. Judging by his looks and clothing, this was surely the one who lived at the mortuary.

Once the man was brought down, the questioning began.

Yan Jiyun asked, “Are you the mortuary keeper?”

Realizing these people meant business, the man wilted. “Yes, I’m the mortuary’s caretaker. Is there something I can do for you?”

Yan Jiyun: “What’s your name?”

The man said his name was Wang Wu, and that he’d been working at the mortuary for ten years. “You both don’t seem like you’re here to use the mortuary, though?”

Yan Jiyun rested a foot on the chair, fished a knife out from Ninth Master’s shoe, and pointed it at the crouching Wang Wu. “You say you’re Wang Wu, but the mortuary’s owner isn’t called that.”

Ninth Master was genuinely perplexed—how did Yan Jiyun know about the knife in his shoe?

Frightened, Wang Wu spilled everything. “Boss, have mercy—I really did come here ten years ago—”

Yan Jiyun: “Tell the truth. Why did you occupy this place?”

Wang Wu waved his hands frantically. “Boss, when I arrived, the mortuary was totally abandoned. My house had been washed out by a flood, I had nowhere to go. I was illiterate, no one wanted to hire me. Starving, I wandered here and the villagers saved me, gave me food and water. The village head said the mortuary had been empty for years. If I wanted to live, I could stay. So I did. I didn’t know it already had an owner!”

Yan Jiyun: “So you don’t know who the owner is?”

The man: “I never met them, but the old folks around here talked about it. Used to be, this whole area was owned by someone—the mortuary was donated by a wealthy household, everyone lived off those farmlands. But over time, the owners forgot about this place, and it became communal. The estate became the mortuary.”

Yan Jiyun: “So, at first, this wasn’t a mortuary, but a charitable family estate.”

The man: “Yes, boss! I didn’t mean to take it over!”

Yan Jiyun: “Do you know the original owner’s name?”

The man: “I heard the village chief once say it was Wei. But by the time I arrived, nobody had visited in more than thirty years.”

Yan Jiyun: “Is the village chief still around?”

The man: “Died five years ago.”

Yan Jiyun: “All the neighbors are elderly, no younger families?”

The man: “This place is too desolate—young people think it’s unlucky, and stay away.”

Yan Jiyun felt there was nothing more useful to learn from the man, so he switched topics. “Why are there no paper effigies in the mortuary?”

The man: “What paper effigies?”

Yan Jiyun looked up at Ninth Master. “Are there incense shops in town that sell paper figures?”

Ninth Master: “I’ve never seen any.”

A thought took root in Yan Jiyun’s mind: could it be that the people of Jiangnan Town aren’t actually people at all? That they’re all made of paper?