The body of an actress whose death was blocked by the entire Internet was lying in the morgue. When I was suturing the wound at the corner of her mouth, she suddenly grabbed my wrist and said, "Don't let the forensic doctor touch me - the soul of the murderer is still locked in my body!"
I lowered the silk thread soaked in corpse oil and said, "Just right, my secret method of burial is designed to capture the souls of serious ghosts."
The moment the needle tip pierced the skin of her Dantian, an empty corpse suddenly opened its eyes and shed tears.
The first late-night rule of the funeral home: after the usher has sutured the body, he can remove the deceased's last obsession. When I used twenty-four solar terms stitching to sew the resentment of the male corpse back into the hands of the man who killed his wife——
Tonight, he could finally crush his own neck with his own hands.
And the big shots I had ferried over were crawling out of the urns one by one, waiting to return my favor.
