The Arrival of My Cousin (Part Two)

"Lingling, do you think Shi Jing could possibly be..." Shuimei instinctively covered her mouth, shaking her head. No, no, she was not He Lingyu—just imagining such things sent a chill down her spine.

Across from her sat He Lingyu, who at this moment was practically glowing with excitement, as if she’d just been injected with pure adrenaline; every pore on her body exuded a jubilant energy.

Not long ago, she’d accepted Li Tianxian’s invitation to visit Zhangjiajie at Luoxianpo. She had returned unscathed, but wilted like a frostbitten eggplant, listless for days. Only after some prodding did she admit that she’d been conscripted by Li Tianxian for hard labor—an unavoidable debt of gratitude, the most formidable burden in this world. Still, at least she’d paid it off. After returning from Zhangjiajie, He Lingyu resumed her role as a humble inn assistant—wiping tables, sweeping floors, greeting and seeing off guests. Even Si Kai and Xu Yuanfang hadn’t come to disturb her. So now, upon hearing news about Shi Jing, how could He Lingyu not be thrilled?

"Shuimei, tell me—what kind of person was Shi Jing? And why did she die so young?"

Shuimei sighed, her voice low and steady as she spoke.

In her youth, Shi Jing had been a dancer—talented and beautiful, but always in the shadow of others. By twenty-five, she was still performing in the chorus, never once given the chance to lead. As the years passed, her prospects dwindled further, until at last she resigned from the troupe.

Afterward, Shi Jing tried her hand at various jobs, never settling long in any of them. Eventually, she was introduced to Mr. Mo, a successful man ten years her senior, divorced, with a child who lived with his ex-wife. Shi Jing became his full-time girlfriend; for a while, they even discussed marriage. But after several years, Mr. Mo reconciled with his ex-wife, leaving Shi Jing to move out and start over.

By then, Shi Jing was thirty-three. Her former dance companions had either found success in their careers or settled down to raise families. Only she remained adrift and unfulfilled. Her parents, who had invested so much in her dance training, now saw her stagnation and could not help but complain and criticize. After yet another quarrel, Shi Jing left home. Three months later, she sent a postcard saying she was well and asking her family not to worry—the postmark was from Shanghai. Every few months thereafter, she would send another postcard. This went on for two years. Her parents even asked friends in Shanghai to help search for her and posted missing person notices online, but Shi Jing never showed herself.

Two years later—five years ago—the local TV station suddenly broadcast a notice to identify a corpse. There was a dark red birthmark on the left arm, identical to Shi Jing’s. Her parents and relatives went to identify the body. The deceased had been killed in a car accident at a surveillance-free intersection; the driver was intoxicated and high, barely conscious at the time. The victim’s head had been crushed, making her unrecognizable, but her height, blood type, and the birthmark all matched Shi Jing’s.

He Lingyu frowned. "What about DNA? Was there a DNA test?"

Shuimei shook her head. "I don’t think so. Shi Jing’s blood type was extremely rare—Rh negative. When her family learned the body had the same rare blood type, they were certain it was her."

It did make sense—same build, same birthmark, even the same rare blood. Even Shi Jing’s parents accepted that the body was their daughter’s.

"Did you contact Shi Jing’s parents today?" He Lingyu asked.

Shuimei sighed again—she’d sighed more times tonight than she typically did in a year.

"My aunt and uncle were already elderly and in poor health. After Shi Jing’s death, the shock caused their conditions to deteriorate rapidly. They both passed away not long after."

In other words, Shi Jing no longer had any immediate family.

After Shuimei finished her story, He Lingyu felt a tinge of regret. She was now almost certain: this was not a supernatural case. Shi Jing probably hadn’t died, but had instead remained in Shanghai for reasons unknown, never revealing herself. The victim of the car accident was, in all likelihood, nothing more than a coincidence.

The night passed uneventfully. The next morning, Shuimei and He Lingyu prepared to return to the inn. As they descended the stairs, ready to retrieve their car from the parking lot, they received a call from the local police station.

The night before, the county forensic team had worked overtime and determined Wu Ying’s cause of death—she had died of a heart attack.

This meant that all suspicion was lifted from everyone involved.

As soon as the call ended, they received a message from Instructor Shi in the WeChat group. Although Wu Ying had died of a heart attack, she had passed away at the yoga studio. Whether for official investigation or at the insistence of Wu Ying’s family, the yoga studio was to be temporarily shut down for inspection. Classes would be suspended indefinitely, and the reopening date was uncertain. Instructor Shi instructed everyone to privately message her about refunds.

Shuimei and He Lingyu exchanged glances. It seemed their dreams of becoming elegant women would have to be postponed.

While refunds could be handled via WeChat, both women had personal items left in the yoga studio’s lockers, and Shuimei’s used Jinbei van was still parked out front. They needed to retrieve the car and their belongings.

At that moment, someone called their names. Turning, they saw Zhou Xiaojun running towards them, slightly out of breath. She too was headed to the yoga studio to collect her things. The three women walked together, discussing Wu Ying’s death, and soon found themselves on the road outside the parking lot.

The so-called parking lot was really just a fenced-in open lot—no electronic meters, no automated gates. Two elderly caretakers kept handwritten receipts and would ask for payment when drivers came to collect their cars. The rates were cheap: two yuan per hour, ten yuan at most, even for overnight parking. The only catch was that the caretakers didn’t use smartphones and accepted only cash.

Seeing the parking lot, Shuimei remembered she’d need cash. She stopped to rummage through her bag. "Lingling, do you have any cash? I don’t think I have enough."

He Lingyu shrugged. "If you don’t, I certainly don’t."

Zhou Xiaojun quickly offered, "It’s fine, I have some. I’ll swap with you."

She opened her large canvas tote and began to dig through it. Both she and Shuimei were so absorbed in searching their bags that they failed to notice anything around them.

He Lingyu could only wait, wondering how their bags managed to hold so much—finding cash seemed more like a treasure hunt.

Bored, she glanced around. Suddenly, a car shot out of the parking lot like a maniac. He Lingyu reacted instantly, grabbing both Shuimei and Zhou Xiaojun by the arms and yanking them toward the curb.

Her speed and strength caught them off guard, and both stumbled and fell.

The car roared past, missing them by inches, and crashed straight into the massive sculpture at the edge of the square!

With a thunderous bang, the vehicle smashed into the marble statue. Simultaneously, shouts erupted from the parking lot: "Someone’s been hit! Someone’s been killed!"

He Lingyu pulled out her phone and called the police. Moments later, traffic officers and an ambulance arrived. The driver was dragged from the vehicle, but had already stopped breathing.

Inside the lot lay another body.

The car had run someone over in the parking lot before careening out onto the street—and that person was dead as well.

As the attendants carried the body from the lot, He Lingyu, Shuimei, and Zhou Xiaojun all cried out in near unison, "Instructor Shi!"

The victim’s head had been crushed beyond recognition, but her figure and yoga attire left no doubt—this was Instructor Shi Yini.