Chapter 15: The Warden's Invitation

The black light from Jiang Chen's staff sent Madam Wei hurtling backward. She crashed through a row of parked bicycles, metal twisting around her borrowed body. The soul within her flickered like a dying candle, but she held on.

"You'll have to do better than that," she coughed, pulling herself up. Blood dripped from her lip. "I've been thrown out of better bodies than this."

Jiang Chen's hands were still shaking. The names. She'd promised him names. But she'd also tried to possess him again. Twice now. Trust wasn't an option.

"You said you could prove it," he said, keeping the staff between them. "Prove it now. No conditions."

Madam Wei spat blood onto the pavement. "And let you drag me back to Diyu? I've seen what happens to souls who break the rules. They don't get reincarnation. They get the eighteenth level of hell. Boiling oil. Mountain of knives. For eternity."

"That's not my problem."

"It will be." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "The judges don't care about justice. They care about order. They'll wipe my memory, sure. But they'll wipe yours too if you make trouble. You think they want a soul reaper questioning his own death sentence? That sets a bad precedent."

Jiang Chen's grip tightened on the staff. She was manipulating him again. He knew it. But she was also right.

"Who framed me?" he asked.

"A man named Xu Liang. He's the deputy director of the Municipal Tax Bureau. Three years ago, you audited his brother's company. Found discrepancies. Reported them to your supervisor. The case got buried, but Xu Liang never forgot your name."

The name hit Jiang Chen like a physical blow. Xu Liang. He remembered now. The audit had been routine, but the numbers didn't add up. Millions missing. He'd flagged it, written the report, handed it up the chain. Nothing happened. He'd assumed it was incompetence. Not conspiracy.

"Why didn't he just kill me then?"

"Because you were useful." Madam Wei stepped closer. "After you flagged the audit, your supervisor made sure you were promoted. Given access to more accounts. You became a patsy. Every time someone needed numbers cooked, you were the one who signed off. You thought you were just doing your job, but you were building a paper trail. For yourself."

"That's not—" He stopped. The bribes. The small favors. The way people smiled at him at office parties but never invited him to dinner. He'd thought he was climbing the ladder. He'd been climbing a scaffold.

"By the time they needed a fall guy, you were perfect," Madam Wei continued. "Your signature on a dozen suspicious reports. Your bank account showing deposits you didn't remember making. A dead woman's DNA on your clothes. They built the case over two years. Air-tight."

"How do you know all this?"

"I possessed a secretary at the prosecutor's office. For three months. I read every file, every email, every private conversation." She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I was looking for leverage on a different case. Found yours instead. Kept it in case I needed a bargaining chip."

Jiang Chen's mind raced. If what she said was true, then his execution wasn't just a mistake. It was a hit job. Someone in the government had signed his death warrant. And if he went back to Diyu with this information, what would the judges do? Investigate? Or bury it?

"You said you had names," he said. "More than Xu Liang."

"I have a list. Judges who took bribes. Police officers who planted evidence. A forensic technician who faked the DNA report. A dozen names. All connected."

"Give me one. Right now. Something I can verify."

Madam Wei studied him for a long moment. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled business card. She tossed it to him. It was wet with blood, but he could still read the name: *Detective Huang Wei, Special Investigations Unit.*

"He was the lead investigator on your case. He's still alive. Still working. Ask him about the evidence chain. Watch his face when you mention the word 'fabricated.'"

Jiang Chen stared at the card. This was real. Tangible. Something he could act on.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not helping you. I'm helping myself." Madam Wei's eyes narrowed. "You're going to let me go. Not because you trust me, but because you need me. I know things about Diyu that you don't. About the judges. About corruption in the underworld. About souls that were sentenced unfairly and sent to hell anyway."

"You're lying."

"Ask your teacher. He's been a soul reaper for sixty years. He knows more than he tells you." She tilted her head. "Or don't. Keep being a good little apprentice. Follow the rules. Let them wipe your memory and give you a new identity. In a few decades, you won't even remember your own name."

The words cut deep. Because they were true. He'd seen it happen to other soul reapers. Old ones who'd served their time and been reincarnated. They came back as blank slates, eyes empty, souls scrubbed clean. He'd thought it was mercy. Now he wondered if it was just another form of execution.

"I need to think," he said.

"Take your time. But remember: every hour you waste is an hour Xu Liang uses to cover his tracks. He doesn't know you're alive. He doesn't know a soul reaper is hunting him. Keep it that way."

Jiang Chen pulled out his phone. It was almost 4 AM. The sun would rise in two hours. He needed to get back to his apartment before his roommate woke up. But first, he needed answers.

"Where can I find Detective Huang?"

"Central Police Station. Ninth floor. Special Investigations Unit. He works nights." Madam Wei smiled. "He's been having trouble sleeping. Guilt, probably."

"You're coming with me."

"Absolutely not."

"It's not a choice." Jiang Chen raised the staff. "I can't watch you every second. But I can keep you close. If you try to run, I'll bind your soul to the staff. You'll spend eternity as a lamp."

Madam Wei's face darkened. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then Madam Wei laughed. It was a cold, brittle sound. "Fine. But when we get there, you're going to see things you don't want to see. And when that happens, remember: I didn't make this world. I just live in it."

---

The Central Police Station was a grey concrete block that looked like it had been designed by someone who hated windows. Jiang Chen stood across the street, watching the entrance. His body was still solid, still warm, still breathing. He'd learned to control his form, to keep the death energy hidden. To any normal person, he looked like a tired office worker who'd pulled an all-nighter.

Madam Wei stood beside him, her soul tethered to his wrist by a thin thread of black energy. He'd learned that trick from Teacher Zhang. It allowed him to keep her close without letting her wander.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, if we're going to do this, we should do it right. You can't just walk in and ask questions. You need a reason to be there."

"I have a reason."

"What? 'Hello, I'm a dead man investigating my own murder'? That'll go great."

Jiang Chen ignored her. He crossed the street, walked through the front doors, and approached the front desk. A tired-looking officer looked up from his computer.

"Can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Detective Huang Wei. Special Investigations Unit."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "Do you have an appointment?"

"It's urgent."

"It's 4 AM. Nothing's urgent at 4 AM except dead bodies and drunk drivers. Which one are you?"

Jiang Chen reached into his pocket and pulled out his old ID card. The one from before his death. It had his photo, his name, his employee number. He'd kept it as a memento. Now he used it.

"I'm a former colleague. From the Tax Bureau. I have information about a case he worked on. Three years ago. The Jiang Chen murder case."

The officer's face changed. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Detective Huang? Someone here to see you. Says it's about the Jiang Chen case." A pause. "Yeah. I'll send him up."

The officer hung up and pointed to the elevator. "Ninth floor. He's waiting."

Jiang Chen nodded and walked toward the elevator. Madam Wei followed, her footsteps silent on the tile floor.

"You're good," she whispered. "Using your old ID. That was smart."

"I'm not smart. I'm desperate."

"Same thing."

The elevator doors opened. Jiang Chen stepped inside. As the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished metal. He looked tired. Hollow. Like a man who'd already died once and was beginning to wonder if death was the easy part.

The ninth floor was quieter than the rest of the station. Fewer desks. Better carpet. Special Investigations Unit. The elite. The ones who handled high-profile cases.

Detective Huang Wei was waiting outside his office. He was a thick man, broad-shouldered, with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. His eyes were hard, suspicious.

"You say you're from the Tax Bureau?"

"Former. I worked under Director Zhao. I reviewed the financial records for the Jiang Chen case."

Huang's expression didn't change. "That case is closed. The suspect was executed three weeks ago."

"I know. But I found something. An irregularity in the evidence chain. I thought you should know."

Huang studied him for a long moment. Then he gestured toward his office. "Come in."

Jiang Chen followed him inside. The office was small, cluttered with files and case notes. A single desk lamp cast harsh shadows across the walls. Huang sat down and gestured for Jiang Chen to take a seat.

"Show me what you found."

Jiang Chen reached into his pocket. He didn't have any documents. He didn't have anything. He was bluffing, and he knew it. But he'd learned something from Madam Wei: when you have nothing, you make them believe you have everything.

"I need to ask you a question first," he said. "Off the record."

Huang's eyes narrowed. "What kind of question?"

"The kind that gets people killed." Jiang Chen leaned forward. "The DNA evidence in the Jiang Chen case. Who collected it?"

"Standard procedure. Crime scene investigators."

"Which ones? I want names."

Huang's hand moved toward his desk drawer. Slowly. Casually. "Why do you need names?"

"Because I think the evidence was planted. And I think you know it."

The room went still. Huang's hand stopped moving. His eyes locked onto Jiang Chen's, and for a moment, something flickered in them. Recognition. Fear.

"You're dead," Huang whispered.

"I got better."

Jiang Chen stood up. The staff materialized in his hand, black energy swirling around it. Huang reached for his gun, but Jiang Chen was faster. He slammed the staff against the desk, and a wave of death energy exploded outward, knocking Huang out of his chair.

"Who paid you?" Jiang Chen demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"The