Chapter Ninety-Eight: Who Am I?

His instep slowly withdrew from the muck, pulling out something wrapped in a clump of sludge along the strap. Just by its shape, it was recognizable—it was a backpack.

“Wait, look at the ground.”

“Huh.” The fat man crouched down and fiddled with it. Indeed, it was a bag, almost identical to the one found on the corpse they had encountered earlier outside, and the contents inside were nearly the same.

The fat man ran his hand over the area, then stood up shaking his head. “No body here, just a tag.”

It was a leather-encased badge, the kind they used for work identification. It had a protective film sealed over it, inside which was a card with some information written.

The fat man wiped the mud off the card. Inside was a white paper card, so waterlogged it was difficult to make out. Only a single character “Zhao” was barely visible, and at the bottom was a gilt phoenix emblem.

“Do you recognize it?” The fat man handed the card to Ye Qiu, as it was quite possible the owner had once been one of their own.

“What character is this?” “Zhao! Do you know anyone named Zhao?”

Ye Qiu shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He handed the card back to the fat man, then hesitated and took it again, rubbing it several times before saying, “This emblem looks familiar.”

“What is it?” Cha Wenbin leaned forward to take a look.

The fat man said, “It’s a phoenix.”

“No.” Cha Wenbin was certain. “That’s a Golden Crow. See its three talons? It’s said to be the bird of the sun’s essence. This kind of pattern is very rare and often confused with a phoenix.”

Suddenly, Ye Qiu grabbed the leather casing and lunged wildly into the mud like a madman. Like fishing in a field, he stirred up the sludge in large swaths, turning it over and over until he was completely covered in mud. The sudden change caught the fat man and Cha Wenbin off guard; they wanted to do something but found themselves helpless.

Ye Qiu struggled and crawled through the mud for a while, then abruptly sat down in it, dazed as if in a stupor. He said nothing, clutching the card tightly until it was crumpled beyond recognition.

Seeing him calm somewhat, Cha Wenbin quietly approached. “Brother Ye, do you know this person?”

Ye Qiu didn’t answer, burying his head deeper into the muck. Cha Wenbin noticed his shoulders trembling slightly but couldn’t tell if it was from excitement, fear, or sorrow. Offering comfort between men was never his strong suit.

Suddenly, Ye Qiu looked up, his face covered in mud yet the terror was clear. Grabbing Cha Wenbin’s shoulder, he demanded, “Who am I? Tell me, who am I?”

“Ye Qiu?” Cha Wenbin called his name, gripping his shoulders firmly. “What’s wrong? Tell me. Don’t panic, okay?”

Ye Qiu wiped the mud from his face vigorously, rubbing most of it away. He pushed back his hair, and for the first time, Cha Wenbin saw his true appearance.

He was delicate and handsome, with a proud bearing between finely carved brows and features. Judging by his age, he was barely in his twenties, about the same age as them.

“A very handsome man,” Cha Wenbin thought silently.

“Look carefully. Tell me, who am I?” Ye Qiu’s voice trembled as he repeated the question, desperation seeping through. “Who am I? Tell me, who am I?”

The carefree fat man couldn’t help but jab, “Hey, buddy, are you on something?”

Ye Qiu shifted focus, grabbing the fat man and shaking him hard. “Where did you find this? Tell me, where?”

Startled, the fat man pointed randomly, “Right here… and this bag. You want it, it’s yours.”

Ye Qiu snatched the filthy bag, pressed it to his face, and began to sob.

Chaos ensued; everything spiraled out of control.

“What’s wrong?” the fat man asked Cha Wenbin, who was equally clueless. God only knew what was wrong with this guy.

But Ye Qiu soon gave them the answer.

“This is mine.” His voice steadied but still quivered. “Look…”

He pulled from his pocket a sealed card, almost identical to the one the fat man found. It bore the same Golden Crow emblem, but this one had the character “Ye” written on it.

“This is yours?” “Yes, mine.” “Then why are you crying?”

Ye Qiu released the crumpled card in his hand. “This one is mine too. The ‘Zhao’ character’s last stroke hooks upward—that’s my personal handwriting style. I’m not Ye Qiu; my surname is Zhao. Why did he lie to me? Why?”

“So that means you’ve been here before?”

Ye Qiu raked his hair in frustration. “I really can’t remember anything. I woke up and forgot everything. It’s damnable!”

Cha Wenbin comforted him gently, “You’ve already started to recall some things. Like this character—you remember it, which means you’re recovering.”

“Cha, come here,” the fat man called, standing just a couple of meters from Cha Wenbin, facing a human figurine. His fingers seemed to be probing it.

The figurine had a damaged patch about the size of a matchbox. Within it, fibers were visible—actually a piece of cloth, barely noticeable without close inspection. The fat man carefully peeled back the cloth with a blade to reveal, surprisingly, skin that was still slightly elastic. Inside the figurine was a real person.

Summoning his courage, the fat man continued slicing away the thick layer of mud covering the figure. More and more of it was exposed until the upper half was completely cleared, revealing a corpse not fully decomposed, sprawled on the mud.

The stench of rot mixed with soft, oozing fluids was overwhelming, invading every pore of the body, making nausea almost impossible to resist.

The clothing was mostly intact—a long robe somewhat reminiscent of traditional Han garments. The body above the neck was missing, offering no additional clues.

Using living people as figurines—this cruelty was unheard of. The fat man checked another figurine, finding a similar situation: exposed clothing and muscle tissue inside.

“Damn, this is brutal,” the fat man said, pointing at the coffin. “Cha, I say we don’t hold back. Pry it open and take everything inside. If there are any bones left, we’ll make mud figurines out of them right here.”

“Wait, the right side, the last figurine,” Ye Qiu paused, then looked at the fat man. “Can you open it for me?”

Cha Wenbin seemed to realize something but it was just a fleeting thought. He wanted to tell the fat man to stop, but the words caught in his throat. Subconsciously, that figurine was a Pandora’s box—once opened, it might change everything.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” The fat man gripped his knife and slashed diagonally across the figurine’s chest like a butcher carving a slaughtered cow. Layer by layer, the skin peeled away.

He noticed this figurine was different from the others; its flesh looked remarkably fresh. When he saw the zipper pull on a black jacket inside, he froze.

“This…” The fat man looked back at Cha Wenbin and Ye Qiu, unsure how to react.

Ye Qiu looked at him, and Cha Wenbin gently placed a hand on Ye Qiu’s shoulder, shaking his head. Ye Qiu met Cha Wenbin’s gaze and finally spoke after a long pause.

“In the left pocket, help me feel inside. See if there’s anything.”

There was a five-cent coin with a small hole at the top, threaded with a red string. The coin gleamed, the bold inscription "People’s Bank of China" nearly blinding the fat man.

He stepped back, clutching the coin, and ran swiftly to Cha Wenbin’s side, gripping his arm tightly. “Cha, let’s get out of here. Something’s wrong. I swear, the hairs on my neck are standing on end. Honestly, my legs feel like they’re about to give out.”

“Ye Qiu, choosing to forget might not be a blessing.”

“Heh, you’re wrong. Right now, all I want to say is—I don’t even know who I am.” He pointed at the coin in the fat man’s hand. “I made that. I meant to give it to someone, but I ran out of time.”

“This?” The fat man handed the coin to Ye Qiu, then asked, “The figurine inside, do you know him?”

Ye Qiu nodded, spinning the coin in his fingers. “Maybe if I say it, you won’t believe me. It sounds absurd.”

“No, I believe you,” Cha Wenbin said sincerely. “No matter what happened in the past, the important thing is you’re still alive. Isn’t that right?”

“Alive? My body has already rotted, do you understand?” Ye Qiu suddenly exploded in rage, shouting, “Why? I’m already dead, yet I have to witness all this! Why?”