Short, Light, Free

Chapter 119: Seeking Individuals, Dead or Alive (Part 2) III

Chapter 119: Seeking Individuals, Dead or Alive (Part 2) III

Yun Huan’s execution day.

I gave the old man a call in the afternoon.

The line connected shortly. His frail voice sounded, “Hi.”

“Yun Huateng, right? We’ve found the prison your grandson is being locked up at. The execution site is also confirmed, but I have something to ask you,” I said.

“Please, go on,” the old man invited somewhat happily.

“It’s not really a problem. We can tell you the location but we’re afraid that you might be thinking about rescuing your grandson. If that happens, we’re going to be in trouble and we don’t want that,” I explained.

The old man laughed and said, “I understand. How about you call me after the execution? I just want his body for burial, so please don’t overthink my intentions. We’ve agreed that what he did was wrong and he should be rightfully punished.”

“You sure about that? Alright, then. Wow. I was actually kinda hoping that you would want to rescue your grandson.”

He completely ignored my comment. “I know that the execution is going to take place sometime in the afternoon, so just remember to give me a call. I’ve already prepared the money.”

“Alright,” I agreed before hanging up.

Fatty came over and asked, “What now? There’s really no way that he’s going to save his grandson, right?”

I nodded. “He wants a dead grandson for sure. We can move on with our plans, although I still feel that the old man might be a good person.”

“Got it. Do we call the cops now? Or do we wait for a little while?” Fatty hedged.

“Skinny came up with the idea so let’s ask him,” I suggested.

Skinny responded, “I’ll inform the police later. Let’s finish this up first,”

“You guys go ahead, I’m already ready,” I said before lying down.

Since Fatty and Skinny were too fat and skinny for this, I took on the responsibility. After all, Yun Huan’s physique was similar to mine.

I closed my eyes and Skinny started applying makeup on my face.

“Pretty decent, aye, Skinny?” Fatty commented laughingly.

Skinny missed the sarcasm and replied happily, “I graduated as an interior designer, after all. Doing makeup is much easier than CAD!”

“I heard that you often take part in cosplaying events?” Fatty smiled.

“Whatever, dude. It’s all done,” Skinny got up and tidied his makeup products.

Fatty nudged me and said, “Let’s talk about what to take note of.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Fatty. “I remember.”

Fatty tossed a flick knife to me. “For protection.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Just to be safe. Alright, I won’t go over it all again since you remember the details. Is your phone fully charged? It will be problematic if your phone dies halfway,” Fatty checked.

I took my phone out. “63%. That’s enough.”

Fatty picked up a portable charger and threw it to me. “I’m going to zip the bag. You might feel a little cold. Have you worn enough undergarment?”

“Wait, I did not wear any! Did you talk about this previously?” I asked anxiously.

Fatty shook his head and tossed some heat packs to me. “Okay, I’m zipping this up for real now.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced then shut my eyes.

I felt Fatty carry the bag and walk downstairs.

I stuffed the knife into my pocket with much difficulty since the bag was rather small and I couldn’t move much.

It was only when I grabbed the portable charger that I realized Fatty had missed out the cable.

Left with no other choice, I just turned my phone to silent mode and set the brightness to its dimmest level.

I felt them moving me into the back seat before driving off.

It was a bumpy ride and I regretted entering the bag so early on.

I shut my eyes and waited to be stuffed in the chest.

The car stopped shortly. Fatty grabbed me up again and said softly, “It’s 11 now, let’s match our clocks.”

“You watch too much movies. Our clocks are all synchronized with the Internet’s now,” I replied.

Fatty slapped my butt cheek. “You talk a lot.”

I was carried into a room but I couldn’t sense much since I was literally kept in the dark.

I felt that I was being placed on a metal frame. Fatty whispered, “I’m going to push you in before leaving. Remember that your chest is F3. Do what you need to do. This isn’t a game and there’s no replay button.”

“Got it,” I replied.

“The person carrying you out might not be as gentle, so you better not twitch a muscle.”

“You don’t say,” I commented dryly.

Fatty pushed the tray in and knocked on the metal lid. “Pray hard. Call me if anything goes wrong.”

I felt nothing when I was still outside but when I was sent to the mortuary, the cold became apparent.

I started to regret not wearing more layers underneath.

Frustrated, I grabbed the heat packs tightly. I was thankful that Fatty had done his research and prepared these heat packs for me.

I activated all the heat packs and stuffed them into my clothes.

I finally felt my body temperature rising, although it was still very cold. My face and head, especially, since I had no way of keeping them warm.

11:20.

Every minute was torture.

Finally, it was 12. I couldn’t take it anymore and I called the old man. My body froze again the moment I made the call.

There was no reception at all. How could we have forgotten the most important detail?

I held my phone as far out as possible and finally saw a slight signal.

I quickly made the call.

“Are you going to tell me now? Your money is all ready,” the old man cut to the chase upon answering. He must’ve been waiting for a long time.

“The crematorium in Phoenix Mountain Mausoleum Park. F3 chest,” I responded, shuddering.

“Thank you. I’ll get someone to send the money over now. Why do you sound like you’re shivering?”

“Took a cool bath and caught a cold,” I blurted out.

He laughed. “Take care of your body or you’re going to regret it when you get older.”

I hung up and switched the phone to airplane mode. I again waited some more for the old man to get me out quickly.

Half an hour passed and I finally heard some shuffling outside the door.

I could hear voices.

I shut my eyes and hid my heat packs together.

Someone pushed the tray out.

“This is the one, right?”

“Yeah, F3. Should we open it?”

“You do it.”

“But it’s unlucky.”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

There were two of them, it seemed. I heard the zip.

They only opened it a little, to my relief.

“You saw it? In just that split second?”

“Don’t worry, it is the guy in the photograph.”

“Alright, you carry him and I’ll switch the bodies.”

I got carried out.

A few minutes later, I got ruthlessly flung into the boot of a car.

The car drove off and I started feeling warmth again.

The heat packs started to feel hot and I wanted to cry.

After enduring the heat for another half an hour, the car finally came to a halt.

The boot opened up and a hand reached in to lift me up.

“That’s strange. Why does this corpse feel hot?”

“You should’ve gotten your car replaced a long time ago. It’s normal for your boot to heat up. Don’t worry about it, we gotta hurry.”

“Luckily, the money we’ll be getting is enough for a new car.”

I was brought into a big building, it seemed.

We reached a room after going up the elevator.

I was worried that Fatty and Skinny wouldn’t be able to find their way to this place.

“We brought the stuff.”

“You may leave. You’ll receive the money shortly.”

“Where should we place this corpse?”

“On that bed.”

I got carried onto a bed. I did not recognize these voices.

When the person who was carrying me left, I heard a familiar voice.

“Can we start the operation now?”

“Yes, you all may leave,” the old man’s voice rang.

I pressed the record button on my phone.

“We will put you under anesthesia and check the condition of your internal organs before extracting the left lung from that donor. After some processing, we will reinforce the anesthesia and carry on with the replacement.”

“Alright,” the old man said.

“Dexmedetomidine, Ondansetron, dexamethasone. Start the saline drip...”

The medical terms gave me a headache.

I figured that the recording was enough evidence and wondered when would Fatty and Skinny show up with the cops.

The doctor spoke up, “Good. Everything is good. Let’s get the lung now. Inform me if you note any change in numbers, Nurse.”

The doctor walked over to my side and I held my breath.

I held onto my phone tightly with my left hand and the flick knife with my right.

As the zip was being pulled, I tightened my grip on the knife.

I shut my eyes tight.

“Why are there so many heat packs?” the doctor asked when he got the bag opened halfway.

I opened my eyes.

“Ah!” the doctor cried out in shock, retreating a few steps.

I sat upright and saw about seven nurses around.

I picked the portable charger and threw it at the doctor closest to me.

“Who are you and what is going on?” the doctor shouted.

I flashed my knife and said, “Don’t move, all of you. Move back. Against the wall. I’ll stab anyone who moves.”

I placed my mobile on the bed and opened the knife fully.

All the doctors and nurses were standing against the wall, their hands raised.

I turned to the old man, who was speechlessly looking at me with wide eyes.

I got out of the bag and off the bed with a cold smile. One nurse took the opportunity in between to dash out of the room.

She was too fast and I couldn’t stop her.

Frustrated, I ran over to the old man’s bed, but the moment my feet touched the ground, my knees went numb.

I almost lost my footing but I managed to reach the old man’s side.

Just when I reached him, his six bodyguards barged into the room.

The nurse who escaped had informed them.

I held the knife by the old man’s neck. “Move and I’ll kill him.”

It was an effective method. No one moved an inch.

The doctors and nurses started exiting the room.

The old man managed, “You... why... is it you.”

I figured that he couldn’t talk properly because of the anesthesia. “Impressive, eh? Murdering your own grandson for a lung.”

“I... did not...” he said effortfully.

“I’ve checked. Not only did you kill your own son, you’re now harvesting your grandson’s organ. If not for me, won’t you be living off his lung by now? You sure have your ways, huh? Sneaky man.”

“It’s my... son. It’s all his fault,” he barely managed as tears rolled down his cheeks.

I felt his tears on my arm and I tensed.

He was genuinely crying.

“My grandson... he’s very filial. It’s all my son’s fault, he’s a failure... My grandson... it was an accident. I found out that I have lung cancer two years ago and I understood that it was difficult to find a match. My son said he was willing to save me with his lung. He vowed to donate half a lung if I made him the director, but he lied and talked my grandson into giving me his instead. It’s that bastard’s fault,” he explained, sounding somewhat angry, as tears continued streaming down.

My whole body was shaking. “You took a lung from your grandson once already?”

“My son... he was a jerk. He used his own son’s lung in exchange for his position in the company. He arranged the whole surgery and I only found out about it after it was all done. Within half a year, he shifted 40% of my assets and stocks and cost the company 200,000,000. And my grandson had to stay in the hospital because of me...” he continued.

“You’re saying that your son tricked your grandson into giving you his lung so that he could become the director and plunder your money?” I clarified. It really was complicated being a rich man.

“I had no choice but to hire the driver to kill him and then forge evidence that he was on drugs. I kept it from my grandson and blamed it on the driver. I did not expect him to do something so silly upon recovering...” he trailed off, trembling.

“So since there was nothing you could do, you decided to harvest his other lung? How is that any different from your son’s behavior?” I questioned.

“You think I want this? My son, grandson... they’re all gone but I’m alive, am I not? Plus, that boy wrote in his will... he wanted me to have his other lung but the police... opposed it.”

“You don’t understand. All this happened because you plotted to kill your son.”

“You want money? I’ll give it to you. Hand my grandson over and I’ll give you the money. I can give you everything. I just want his lung,” he said, almost hysterically.

By then, the cops had barged in and subdued the bodyguards to the ground.

I shook my head and sighed. “We did not search for his execution location. He’s probably cremated by now. As for you, the law will punish you. It’s a fact that you, your son, and your grandson have all committed a crime.”

The old man stared sluggishly into space. Despair was evident in his eyes.

Fatty and Skinny dashed in, smiling and holding up a victory hand gesture.

I kept the knife and handed the phone to the cops.

This was how we cracked our first major case. It was an achievement that we would always be proud of.