The Hand of Confession – Chapter 142

Volume 5: Days of Applying Makeup to Corpses

Licking Dog Shen Maomao

I just let it fly in the autumn song.

Lou Jingmo struggled to restrain herself, finally releasing her grip after bringing her upstairs, saying, “I’ll be on night watch downstairs. If anything happens, just shout, I can hear you.”

Shen Maomao nodded, “You be careful too.”

The two parted ways. Shen Maomao entered the room, seamlessly turned on the light, closed the door, and then leisurely walked to the bedside. She reached out to feel the temperature, and only sat on the bed after confirming it wasn’t bone-chillingly cold.

After resting for less than two minutes, she got up to draw the curtains.

Just then, a clap of thunder boomed, and a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the entire funeral home.

In the black fog, the yaksha raised an axe, hacking at the protective shield one strike after another.

Shen Maomao finished drawing the curtains, took off her work clothes, then turned off the light and climbed into bed.

The room was shrouded in darkness, occasionally dispelled by flashes of lightning. In this flickering exchange of light and dark, Shen Maomao suddenly noticed someone seemingly standing by her bed.

Shen Maomao: “!!!”

Startled, she sat up to find Lou Jingmo standing by her bed!

“Lou-jie?” she called her name uncertainly, but her eyes were on the door. At this moment, the door was slightly ajar, proving Lou Jingmo had entered through the main entrance.

But she had clearly locked the door from the inside, right? And opening the door should have made a noticeable sound, shouldn’t it? How did she not hear it?

Lou Jingmo nodded, suddenly reaching out to touch her face, softly saying, “I’ve thought for a long time and suddenly realized I actually like you. Do you like me?”

Shen Maomao: “?? Lou-jie, can you restrain yourself, please?”

However, Lou Jingmo had already reached out to touch her face and abruptly lowered her head with closed eyes, as if intending to kiss her lips.

Shen Maomao wore a look of disdain, her expression probably similar to that of an old man on the subway looking at his phone.

Just as Lou Jingmo was about to kiss her, Shen Maomao raised her hand and punched her right in the eye socket, then quickly grabbed her left hand, dislocating her arm in the blink of an eye.

Lou Jingmo cried out in pain, having no chance to resist before Shen Maomao dislocated her other arm as well.

Shen Maomao thought to herself that she truly was a ruthless woman, yet she said, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, turning into Lou Jingmo to seduce me, but to be honest, I’m heterosexual.”

Lou Jingmo—or rather, Wutong—showed a shocked expression with Lou Jingmo’s face, incredulously saying, “Are you two nuts???”

Oddly, Shen Maomao even felt a bit sorry for him.

Wutong really was a pitiful ghost.

Perhaps Wutong felt pitiful himself, as he hugged his head and started crying outright, “F*ck, I’ve never met people like you, are you poisoned or something?”

Shen Maomao imitated Lou Jingmo’s method, tying him up with the bedsheet and then giving him a kick on the backside, “I warn you not to use Lou-jie’s face to say such things, you’ll get beaten.”

Wutong immediately cried even more sorrowfully, “And you say you’re heterosexual!!”

In Shen Maomao’s understanding, she was undeniably as straight as steel, otherwise why would she feel no thrill at all when Wutong turned into Lou Jingmo to seduce her?

Regardless of whether she’s straight or bent, her drowsiness had been driven away by Wutong, and she couldn’t help but squat down to poke its face—or rather, Lou Jingmo’s face, “Hey—little brother, let me ask you something.”

Wutong wiped his tears, resentfully saying, “What do you want to ask?”

Shen Maomao curiously asked, “Why didn’t you come looking for me last night? It seemed like you really liked me, even sucked my blood…”

Nowadays, Wutong, reduced to being her captive, could only honestly explain his reasoning: “Who doesn’t like pretty girls?! But the prettier the girl, the harder to deceive, so I thought I’d first choose one who’s ugly…”

“That’s bullsh*t from your mother’s dog!” Shen Maomao raised her fan radar [粉絲小雷達 | fěnsī xiǎo léidá | sensitivity to any perceived slight against Lou Jingmo] and kicked him twice more, “What the hell do you know? Can a little ghost like you understand the beauty of my goddess?!”

Wutong cried out, “And you say you’re not a lesbian!!”

Shen Maomao, living with eyes wide open, closed them to be a Lou-praising fangirl: “Do you understand what transcendent beauty beyond gender means? Do you understand beauty that transcends appearances?”

Outside the door, Lou Jingmo, who had run over to check the situation upon hearing the noise, paused her hand from knocking and peered through the crack, observing Shen Maomao animatedly and eloquently speaking, her feelings somewhat complicated.

Lou Jingmo knew Shen Maomao often praised her without limit, and she always thought Shen Maomao said so to curry favor with her. But now, with Shen Maomao unaware of her presence at the door, she was still saying these things…

Perhaps due to Wutong’s influence, an inexplicable impulse surged in her heart, wanting to rush in and embrace her.

Lou Jingmo took a step back to steady herself, further convinced that this impulse was due to Wutong’s confusion.

Meanwhile, Shen Maomao was still berating the ghost: “You, a trash ghost with a head full of dirty thoughts, actually have the nerve to disdain my goddess for being ugly? Are you worthy? And you think the less attractive ones are easier to deceive? Who do you think you are, some peerless handsome guy?”

Saying this, she felt it wasn’t enough to vent her anger, so she gave him two more kicks: “What do you take girls for? Ghosts like you, who show no respect for women, I’ll beat one if one comes, I’ll beat a pair if a pair comes!”

Wutong, clutching his head, wailed, “That’s exactly the kind of ghost I am!! Seducing girls is just like you guys having a meal!! What’s wrong with you?? You like your goddess so much, how can you kick me with her face?”

Shen Maomao chuckled: “You don’t get it, if the real person were here, I definitely wouldn’t dare. But since you’re not her, I have to take the opportunity to give you a few extra kicks, to turn the tables, you know?”

At the doorway, Lou Jingmo’s smile gradually faded.

Shen Maomao kicked him a few more times, making him cry even harder, then she felt completely refreshed and started to inquire about the question interrupted by Lou Jingmo earlier in the day: “Hey—stop crying, I have a question for you. If you honestly tell me, I won’t hit you anymore.”

Wutong sniffled, “What question?”

Shen Maomao: “Who is the ‘her’ in Lou-jie’s mind?”

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Three knocks sounded at the door, followed by Lou Jingmo’s voice, “What’s going on?”

Shen Maomao squinted her eyes.

How coincidental was this? Interrupted by Lou Jingmo twice in a row? Who could be the woman living in Lou-jie’s heart? Why so mysterious?

“Nothing!” Shen Maomao ran over to turn on the light. Only after opening the door did she remember she hadn’t closed it.

When did Lou-jie come over?! How much did she hear?!

A chill ran through Shen Maomao’s heart, and she started to panic a bit: “Lou-jie? Why did you come? When did you arrive? Isn’t it risky for you to leave your post like this?!”

Lou Jingmo: “It’s fine. I heard some noise from here, so I came to check. I just arrived.”

Shen Maomao breathed a sigh of relief, pulled Lou Jingmo into the room, and carefully closed the door: “Lou-jie, look what I caught! Wutong!”

Lou Jingmo: “Where?”

Shen Maomao turned her head and found the window slightly ajar, and Wutong on the floor was nowhere to be found, leaving only a pitch-black severed hand.

“Damn! It ran away!” Shen Maomao walked over to the severed hand, mumbling, “Wait, it severed its hand to escape, but I didn’t see it turn into a one-armed hero before…”

She stopped mid-sentence, uncertainly saying, “This hand… how…”

“Same as San Huang’s hand,” Lou Jingmo finished her sentence.

As soon as she finished speaking, the severed arm on the ground twitched twice and then, with a “swish,” stood upright on its five fingers.

“I can’t believe this!!!!” Shen Maomao screamed, grabbing a corner of the bedsheet tied to the severed arm, and in an instant, tossed both the arm and bedsheet out the window. The arm hit the ground with a dull thud, and she quickly shut the window, leaning against the windowsill, gasping for breath.

Lou Jingmo was stunned by her quick and decisive actions. After a moment, she managed to find her voice again: “Was that really necessary?”

Shen Maomao awkwardly replied, “Not at all, I just let it fly away in the autumn song.”

Lou Jingmo: “…”

Shen Maomao spoke seriously: “Lou-jie, does this mean the hand Wutong used to escape from the cafeteria earlier was also San Huang’s? But the timing doesn’t seem to match up?”

Before San Huang died, he had both hands. At that time, Wutong had already created one hand; after San Huang’s death, one hand was burned to charcoal, which Wutong now used as a prop, while the other disappeared in the cremation furnace, occurring later than Wutong’s first escape.

Shen Maomao was now very confused, but she was sure of one thing—the hand of San Huang was “alive,” or rather, had its own consciousness.

Lou Jingmo had only come to check on her and, once confirming her safety, did not plan to stay long. After all, she was contracted for this task and needed to maintain professional integrity, not leaving her employer alone.

However, before she could leave Shen Maomao’s room, the melody of “Fur Elise” started playing in the hallway.

Shen Maomao held her breath, glancing at Lou Jingmo, who leaned against the door, her gaze as if penetrating through it to see the hallway: “It’s here.”

The rumbling thunder became a drumbeat accompaniment, and the phone’s ringtone played repeatedly, without anyone answering the call.

San Huang’s death was too sudden; no one expected him to die at such a time and place, so everyone assumed his phone and keys were in the cremation furnace.

The keys were mostly used and didn’t matter much to anyone, but the phone—that thing was eerie, and no one aside from San Huang wanted to interact with it. So now, no one knew who took the phone or who placed it in the hallway.

“Lou-jie…” Shen Maomao looked at Lou Jingmo, “When you came out…”

Lou Jingmo shook her head: “No, when I came out, there was nothing in the hallway, but we can’t rule out the phone being hung on the ceiling or the lampshade.”

“Fur Elise” played over and over, and everyone behind the door watched, wondering who would be the first to step forward. In this stalemate, the originally crisp and pleasant melody began to turn somber, occasionally emitting strong static noise or a tape-jamming sound.

Shen Maomao covered her ears and quietly asked Lou Jingmo, “Lou-jie, should I sing a song to counter it?!”

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