"It’s right here, we’re really close."
In the middle of the night, the car stopped in front of the cemetery. As soon as the gravekeeper saw the headlights, he immediately came out holding a flashlight.
Feng Yao carried his laptop and walked up quickly. He pulled out his Scorching Sun Department ID and showed it to the gravekeeper. The guy didn’t say a word, just turned around and went back, even opened the gate for them as a favor.
Anyone working as a gravekeeper here isn’t just some clueless regular.
Back when the real luxury furnace was first developed, and before the whole sea burial and scattering ashes procedure got settled, this place was the hotspot for all sorts of weird shit happening.
At that time, every cemetery had a Scorching Sun Department combat team stationed there for the long run.
Especially ten years ago, when the spiritual energy resurgence suddenly sped up and stepped into a new phase, the Scorching Sun Department spent years seriously lacking manpower.
Even now, most people in the Scorching Sun Department are still just regular folks. Professionals, Taoists, monks, or other quirky talents—they’re all rare.
Back then, Nanwu County was actually not so bad. Not having much historical baggage turned out to be a blessing at times like those. Two thousand years back, this place was a wicked exile spot for criminals.
The real headaches were for the Scorching Sun branch minister in Guanzhong County—he was so stressed his hair was falling out.
Can you imagine, just riding the subway, and there might be all sorts of old ghosts living in the dirt above, below, and all around?
When things first blew up, you’d look out the subway window and a bunch of heads would stick out from inside the wall, all curious and peeking at the outside world.
Building a subway meant spending half your time just negotiating demolition with those old ghosts. It was a total nightmare.
Start work in the morning, by the afternoon you’ve dug right into someone’s tomb. Then the archaeology team, the Scorching Sun Department, plus Guanzhong County’s special Demolition Office under the Scorching Sun Department all show up. For the next two months, you can forget about getting any work done.
In the end, several planned routes were just scrapped altogether. Why bother at all at that point?
Originally, this should’ve just been a few departments’ business, but one day, someone pointed out that a museum artifact on display was actually a fake—the original owner said so.
That’s when the whole mess really started spreading, and everything went completely sideways.
Nowadays, when it comes to antiques from certain eras in Guanzhong County, their appraisers are the absolute authorities.
You, a modern person, how could you know more than the original owner of an antique who’s handled it for decades?
The old owner used it for tea for years, and the marks are long soaked in; they know exactly where they were buried after death. But you dig up some useless knockoff and call it genuine, and don’t even let them speak up?
Feng Yao remembered those wild days ten years ago and started telling Wen Yan about it.
The reason he first joined the Scorching Sun Department was because they were so desperate for people; he spent quite a while stationed at cemeteries, trying to explain policies to those mischievous little spirits. Letting them understand the Scorching Sun Department’s stance was seriously hard work.
Now, the cemetery at night is just cold and deserted—nothing much there. One gravekeeper is enough to keep watch.
Old Zhao followed behind, looking at the mass of tombstones scattered over the hillside, and let out a sigh.
"I’d heard home prices were crazy, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. Even graves are so packed—you stretch out your leg and you’re already in someone else’s place..."
"There haven’t been spirits living here for a long time. It’s just a place for the living to mourn," Wen Yan shook his head. Everyone’s cremated these days; there aren’t so many zombies or ghosts and all that anymore.
"Good point. If all of them were still living here, neighbor disputes would be off the charts."
Old Zhao kept sighing while calculating the location with his fingers. He followed the little path up, walked over to a spot halfway up near the edge, circled the area a few times, then pointed at a tombstone.
"This is it. I brought you here. This is definitely the person you’re looking for—no doubt about it."
Wen Yan looked at the tombstone—a photo was pasted on it, a woman with a bright, radiant smile, couldn’t be more than thirty.
Wen Yan called out, but Feng Yao ignored him. He’d already sat down cross-legged, popped open his laptop, and started tapping away at the keyboard.
Information started pouring out rapidly on his laptop. Feng Yao snorted.
"Name’s fake, address is fake too, but since we’ve gotten this far, if I still can’t find her, I might as well bash my head in right here."
His hands flew over the keys, and in less than two minutes, every kind of info—handlers, which offices, all the documents—had been pulled up.
Wen Yan looked at the information on the screen.
This woman’s real name was Liu Xinyu—she died three years ago.
The records showed her life was rough. She was abducted as a child, ran away in her teens, found a kind stranger who took her in, but less than a year later, that kind person died in an accident. After that, she worked odd jobs, then got duped into working overseas.
Not much is known about her life out there. All they know is, three years ago, she came back with cancer, but didn’t get any treatment.
The file even had her visiting the maternity department—seems she was already pregnant.
Looks like she wanted to give birth before she died, but the baby was way too premature and couldn’t make it. She passed away after that.
The people who handled her funeral were all staff workers.
No parents, no kids, no relatives—her first record using her real name and ID was already when she was in her teens.
Wen Yan sighed. With such a person, even if Feng Yao works himself to death, there’s no way to find her just using a few basic search terms.