The torrential rain showed no signs of stopping. Sang Tong and Zeng Tianhan braved the heavy rain and went out. Sang Tong didn't come back alone until dark.
That night, Guan'er Prefecture issued an orange rainstorm warning, and schools across the city were closed.
During dinner, Mu Rongxian was a little depressed, but Sang Yu persuaded and coaxed her to eat a bowl of rice reluctantly.
Sang Yu helped Murong dry her hair, and went to wash herself. When she came out, Mu Rong fell asleep leaning against the head of the bed.
Sang Yu called twice, but Murong didn't wake up.
She carefully embraced Mu Rong, laid him flat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her body, and switched the air conditioner to sleep mode.
Sang Yu sat by the bed and smoothed out the broken hair on Murong's forehead. She didn't sleep well and frowned from time to time.
Sang Yu's eyes stopped on Murong's arm that was in plaster. The piercing sound of the whistle lingered in her ears from time to time, and even broke into her dreams. Whenever she woke up in cold sweat, the first sight It was the person in front of her who made her feel at ease.
For several nights, with Mu Rong by his side, Sang Yu was no longer afraid.
The rain kept falling, scouring the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, and the rain streaked across the glass, distorting the flashing neon lights outside.
The room was very quiet, Sang Yu smoothed Murong's frowning brows, and stroked the brows with his fingers.
"Good night, Mu Rong."
…
Mu Rong had a dream.
In the dream, she seemed to be the protagonist, and she seemed to be overlooking everything that happened in front of her from a third perspective.
The dream was so real that she could even feel the humidity in the air and smell the rancid smell.
Her eyes followed the movement of a person, but no matter how hard she tried, she could only see the back of that person.
A monk with a bald head was holding a tin rod with eyebrows in his hand, and was wearing a crescent-white monk robe, which was very old and patched everywhere.
Wear it on him, don't have a character.
The monk's feet were knee-deep in mud, but he lightly touched the mud, and his pure white monk's shoes didn't get a little bit of mud.
Around him, there are house wreckage, uprooted old trees, and occasionally human corpses; as far as the eye can see, it stretches endlessly, and the end of this disaster cannot be seen.
The shabby monk's robes were blown up by the strong wind from time to time, and the monk seemed to have taken root, each person and one stick stood still, standing proudly, revealing a sense of unyielding and firmness.
In front of the monk, there was a black phantom dozens of stories high, with a pair of blood-red eyes, the size of a car!
"belch!"
The black shadow burped and blew out a foul-smelling wind, which made people sick.
Murong heard the sound of cloth being torn—the tattered monk's robe was so torn that it was torn apart.
"Mortal, my uncle can tear you apart with just one breath, so you still want to save me?"
"River monster, this poor monk wanted to take you to the Three Jewels, but you took advantage of my unpreparedness and manipulated the river to change its course. Thousands of people lost their homes because of your whim. This monstrous murder, you..."
"Hahahaha, monk! These people died because of you. If you didn't think you were self-righteous and angered me, how could they die? Don't you mortals say, 'I don't kill Boren, but Boren is killed because of me? And die'? Look down, these are all the murders you committed, hahahahaha, now you are as sinful as my uncle, I want to see how you can transform me and the world! ?”
Murong let out a muffled snort, and a real pain swept through his whole body, the pain pierced his skin, and his heart felt like a knife.
Murong stared blankly at the white-robed monk: he is in pain.
The monk looked around for a week, seeing the devastation, and burst into tears.
Murong couldn't see the monk's face, she could only see the monk's back from her perspective, but she could feel all his emotions.
His grief, his heartache and self-blame.
Suddenly, Murong's heart skipped a beat and he shouted, "No!"
Sang Yu turned on the bedside lamp, saw that Mu Rong's face was covered with sweat, with an anxious and painful expression, and pushed Mu Rong: "Mu Rong? Wake up, Mu Rong!"
He yelled several times in a row, but he couldn't wake up Mu Rong, so he raised his hand to caress Mu Rong's forehead, it was hot.
Sang Yu rushed to the bathroom and twisted a cold towel on Mu Rong's forehead, then picked up the phone in the room and asked the front desk to call the doctor.
"Don't do this, don't do this, there are other ways, don't be like this, don't!"
"Murong! Wake up, don't scare me, Murong?"
"River demon, the poor monk has taught you for eight days, using eight stories to help you abandon evil and pursue goodness. Let the poor monk tell you the last story."
After the monk finished speaking, he threw the tin stick in his hand high, clasped his hands together, and sat cross-legged on the mud.
"The ninth story is called: 'I don't go to hell, who will go to hell', the poor monk made a great vow with his life and life: sit here and turn into a pagoda, keep you for a hundred years, and there is no Amitabha in the south."
As the words fell, the tin staff spinning in the air burst out with golden light, the strong light hurt the eyes of the river demon, and it let out an angry roar, shaking the ground and mountains.
The monk was shrouded in golden light, and the strong wind couldn't shake him at all. The Zen stick turned into a beam of light and was inserted straight towards the monk's spirit.
"No!" Murong yelled, opened his eyes, and sat up straight.
The doctor holding the needle and preparing to infuse Mu Rong fell to the ground in shock, the sweat dripped off Mu Rong's face, and he gasped heavily.
She saw Su Sifang and Sang Tong standing at the end of the bed, and was embraced by a warm body.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, it's okay."
Mu Rong turned his head and saw a worried face, stroking her back and comforting her Sang Yu.
Seeing that Murong's eyes were empty, Sang Yu held her face and asked distressedly, "What did you dream about?"
Murong looked at Sang Yu without blinking, and murmured absentmindedly: "I won't go to hell, I won't go to hell... whoever, go to hell."
A drop of muddy tears overflowed his eyes and fell silently. Murong didn't want to cry, but the tears flowed out by themselves.
In the bright light, she clearly saw that the monk was crying in the same way when the tin rod pierced the sky spirit.
Sang Yu hugged Mu Rong and wiped away the moisture from the corners of her eyes: "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! It's just a dream, it's okay, it's fine when you wake up, I'm here, don't be afraid."
Murong put his forehead on Sang Yu's thin shoulders, closed his eyes, smelled the familiar breath, felt the warmth of being surrounded, and let out a long sigh.
Beside his ears, Su Sifang's low voice of the Buddha's horn came: "Amitabha."
After taking quick-acting fever-reducing injections and a bottle of hydration drip, Mu Rong fell asleep.
The rain outside the window was still falling, as if it was going to wash the whole world thoroughly.
It was already six o'clock in the morning, and the sky was still gray.
Sang Tong received a call and pulled Su Sifang out of the room.
The two came downstairs in raincoats. Zeng Tianhan and the two demons were sitting on the sofa in the lobby waiting for them.
Sang Tong took the work card from Zeng Tianhan and handed it to Su Sifang, and the five of them got into the police car together.
"what happened?"
Zeng Tianhan handed over a folder: "Ma Hongsheng is dead."
"Is it one of the boys rescued by Li Hanchu?"
"Um."
"The family members called the police?"
A demon spirit replied: "No, the flood control department called us to inform us. Isn't this an orange rainstorm warning? The embankment of that section of the Yelou River is relatively low. The flood control fighters went there for routine inspections and discovered it by accident. A corpse."
Sang Tong opened the folder, and inside was a boy in school uniform lying on the mud on the shore.
"Why only one?"
"Ah, I called the public security department beforehand, and they took this picture without destroying the scene."
"Didn't he die in the river?"
"Dead on the shore, in a small puddle."
…
The Yaoyaoling has sealed off the scene, but even if it is not blocked, no one will come to the river in this weather.
Sang Tong and Su Sifang put on their work IDs, put on their raincoat hats, and walked in across the cordon.
The Yelou river surged overnight, and the turbid river rushed past.
The deceased Ma Hongsheng was lying on the ground with his face in a small puddle. Sang Tong squatted down and observed carefully: the grass around the deceased was intact.
"Turn him over, please."
The young police officer glanced at the sheriff and was a little dissatisfied with Sang Tong's order.
"What are you looking at? Do whatever you are asked to do. This is the task force sent from above!"
Two police officers carried Ma Hongsheng's body out of the puddle, turned halfway, and one of the young police officers yelled and shook his hand.
With a bang, the body fell to the grass.
Sang Tong personally grabbed Ma Hongsheng's shoulders and turned him over. Seeing the face of the deceased, all the people present felt their scalps go numb and gasped.
Those who are less courageous can no longer stand still.
The deceased Ma Hongsheng had a strange smile on his face. Judging from the overall expression, Ma Hongsheng was not afraid at all before his death. It was more like seeing something that made him happy. There was joy on the brows, and there was no fear or fear in the slack pupils. Painful, the mouth is grinning, and the smile is bright.
A little bit of mud remained in the nostrils and corners of the mouth of the deceased, and the quality of the soil was the same as that in the mud pit.
The expression of smiling requires the traction of facial muscles. After death, people lose their strength. Even if they die with a smile, the smile will gradually disappear.
But Ma Hongsheng's smile seemed to be frozen, blooming clearly, as if he was lying on the ground joking with his friends.
Ma Hongsheng's body was already completely cold, and the rain mercilessly hit his body everywhere, so he must not move, bearing it with a smile.
Sang Tong picked up the dead man's hand, just as she thought: there was no dirt in the dead man's nails, which proved that he didn't struggle before death. She sighed and kneaded the dead man's cheeks.
This face seems to have been changed by some external force, no matter how much Sang Tong kneads it, the smile just refuses to disappear.
Su Sifang sighed softly, took a piece of white cloth, and covered the face of the deceased.