The mont the door was pushed open, it was like piercing a layer of cling film, and the sll of blood wrapped inside rushed to their noses, so strong it almost made them retch.
The prison guard’s face changed dramatically as he pushed open the door, hurriedly turning on the switch on the wall.
The mont the light ca on.
The terrifying, sinister scene, like a hellish painting from an ukiyo-e, erged from the darkness and invaded the eyes of the three n.
The gray-white walls, the bright white tiles, the snow-white ceiling, all were splattered with black-red color, the color had solidified into a dense, endlessly repeating six words:
I confess, I am guilty!
Each character was crooked and uneven in depth, as if soone lay on the ground, the wall, the ceiling, leaning close, intently scratching it out with bloody nails, one by one.
The prison guard who opened the door stood petrified, his feet planted at the entrance, finally understanding why Qin Liang the forensic expert had hesitated earlier.
Qin Liang took a deep breath, pushed past the blocking prison guard, mustering up the courage to step inside.
On the floor tiles, everywhere were horizontal, vertical, or diagonal— I confess, I am guilty!
There was almost no space to walk, only between sentences was there a little overlapping space to set one’s foot.
Qin Liang tiptoed carefully inside, but couldn’t avoid stepping in so blood, his eyelid twitching slightly.
Not because he stepped in blood, but because he saw the scraped marks under the characters after the blood was wiped away.
"How much force must have been used to scratch these marks out with nails!"
Even just thinking about it made Qin Liang’s ten fingers faintly ache.
He glanced again at the wall, as a forensic expert, his eyes were sharp; he noticed at the edge near the bed against the wall, there was half a darkened nail embedded into the wall, with remnants of flesh, blood, and plaster congealed on it.
His gaze shifted upward, sweeping over the ceiling, a shiver ran through his heart:
"The writing on the ceiling was done with equal force, yet the ceiling is nearly three ters high, and Tian Tao is quite short. Even standing on a chair, he wouldn’t reach it—how could he have carved those words? Unless he literally crawled onto the ceiling."
An eerie, horrifying image flashed through Qin Liang’s mind.
In the image, Tian Tao, like a spider, lay inverted on the ceiling, crazily carving words with his fingers while mumbling as if possessed, his face twisted and twitching in agony from the pain in his ten fingers.
Qin Liang shook his head, banishing the terrifying image from his mind.
He navigated around the words on the floor, finally managing to stand before Tian Tao.
Tian Tao knelt with knees to the ground, hands overlapping on the floor, forehead touching the ground, striking a posture reminiscent of worship or pilgrimage. Combined with the surrounding scene, it surprisingly exuded a strange sense of sanctity amid the horror.
Qin Liang slowly crouched down, not needing much force to pry Tian Tao’s body apart, indicating that the ti of death was recent and rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet.
He slowly tilted Tian Tao’s head back, revealing an unexpectedly calm face.
It wasn’t the fearful, despairing, twisted, mad expression Qin Liang anticipated, but a... serene smile?
It was as if, after expending effort and silently enduring tornt, he had finally completed so ritual or masterpiece, feeling joy and relief in liberation!
Qin Liang swallowed, he had examined bodies in the Second Prison his whole life, but a corpse with a smile was a first for him.
Looking at the smiling face before him, a shiver ran through Qin Liang: "A gift?!!"
As a forensic expert, receiving a smiling corpse could indeed be considered a rare gift....of sorts!
Qin Liang exhaled long, suppressing his inner excitent.
He looked down again at Tian Tao’s bloody, mangled fingers; never mind leftover nails, even the flesh had worn away, exposing the terrifying finger bones, shortened jaggedly by half.
Qin Liang seed to understand why Tian Tao felt relief, realizing:
"People fear death, but unbeknownst to them, the presence of death signifies an end to all suffering; otherwise, the abyss of despair is endless!"
Zhou Hu barged through the onlooking prison guards in the corridor, striding into the duty room, his shoes stepping carelessly on the blood-written words.
He quickened his pace to Tian Tao’s side, glanced at the bizarre death state, his pupils contracting, then turned a grim look on Qin Liang.
In a hoarse voice, he asked, "What’s going on?"
Qin Liang stood up, stepping back half a step, with many thoughts swirling, yet only four words escaped his lips: "Tian Tao is dead."
Zhou Hu sneered, "I’m asking you how he died?"
Qin Liang frowned, almost thinking Zhou Hu was asking who killed Tian Tao; he had a faint inkling of an answer but dared not speak it.
Not out of fear of retaliation, simply a desire to befriend that person.
The next second, Qin Liang realized Zhou Hu ant "how did Tian Tao die," evidently holding his own clear judgnt on the "culprit."
Qin Liang sighed lightly, pondered a mont, then replied:
"Aside from severe finger abrasion, the body has no obvious external injuries. Well, an autopsy is probably needed to determine the cause of death."
Zhou Hu bluntly retorted, "Then what are you waiting for?"
Qin Liang gestured at the door; two prison guards entered to help carry the body to the morgue.
The morgue was open 365 days a year, yet hardly "welcod guests"; prisoners who died were usually sent straight to the crematorium—no need for a "layover" in the morgue.
Watching Qin Liang trudging slowly out, Zhou Hu snorted, then reprimanded the on-duty prison guards, "Tian Tao made this whole spectacle last night, and none of you heard a thing?"
The night shift prison guard kept his head down, baffled as he answered, "It was quiet in the room; we thought Captain Tian Tao was just asleep."
Just then, a prison guard from the surveillance room ca running over, reporting to Zhou Hu, "I just checked the footage, after Tian Tao entered the duty room last night, no one else went in."
The words settled, silence fell inside and outside the corridor, a pin drop audible.
Zhou Hu also felt a chill down his spine, but more than that was anger; he sneered:
"No one ca in, so that ans Tian Tao self-hard and committed suicide, or else, has an invisible ghost crept into our Second Prison?"
The prison guards inside and outside the door dared not reply.
Zhou Hu didn’t expect them to co up with an answer either, his face sullen, laughing angrily, seemingly speaking to himself, or intentionally to the prison guards: he said sinisterly:
"Alright, first Chang Wei, then Tian Tao, both in one night—truly restless. It seems our new Prison Director Qian has so great tactics. I wonder if it’s my turn next?"
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