Chapter 20: The Witness in the Walls
~1.4k words · 2026-06-22
CHAPTER 20: The Third Body
The black light from Jiang Chen's staff didn't just push her back.
It *tore* her.
Lin Shuiying's soul fragmented like glass hitting concrete, shattering into a dozen shimmering pieces that scattered across the abandoned warehouse floor. Each piece writhed independently, trying to reform, trying to remember what it was supposed to be.
Jiang Chen stumbled backward, gasping. The staff's feedback burned up his arms, through his chest, into his skull. He'd never used that much power before. He'd never *needed* to.
"Look what you did," the pieces whispered. Dozen voices overlapping, out of sync, speaking in fragments. "Look look look what you *did*."
The largest piece—her torso, her head, one arm—crawled across the concrete toward him. Her face was half there, half scattered. One eye blinked. The other was empty space.
"You broke me."
"I'll do worse." His voice shook. "Stay back."
"Why?" The fragments laughed, a chorus of discordant notes. "You need me. You need my *names*."
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
Jiang Chen forced himself to breathe. The warehouse smelled like rust and rat droppings. Moonlight filtered through broken windows, illuminating the swirling dust motes that danced around Lin Shuiying's scattered soul.
"I can put myself back together," she said, the largest piece dragging itself closer. "But it'll take time. And every second we waste, your truth gets buried deeper."
"Stop moving."
"Make me."
He raised the staff again. The black light flickered weakly. He'd spent too much of whatever fuel powered it. The Judge's Seal on his wrist felt cold, distant. He was running on empty.
"Ah." Lin Shuiying's half-face smiled. "You're tapped out. How unfortunate."
The scattered fragments began to move faster, sliding across the floor like mercury, converging toward the central mass. She was right—she *was* putting herself back together. And he was too exhausted to stop her.
Jiang Chen did the only thing he could think of.
He sat down.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
"While I regenerate?"
"You're a con woman." He rubbed his face. "You've been lying for seventeen years. You lied to your victims. You lied to the soul reapers who caught you. You're lying to me right now."
"I'm not—"
"You *are*. Because that's what you do. It's not even about survival anymore. It's just who you are." He looked at her. "So I need to figure out which parts of what you said were true and which were bait."
Her pieces stopped moving.
"Let's start with the obvious. You said you could prove I was framed. You said you had names. But you're a ghost who's been possessing people for seventeen years. You haven't been in the mortal world. You haven't talked to anyone connected to my case."
Her face flickered.
"So how would you know anything about my death?"
The silence stretched.
"You want me to answer that." Her voice was different now. Softer. Almost careful. "You want me to prove I'm telling the truth."
"I want you to stop playing games."
"Then listen." The fragments began to merge, slower now, deliberate. "When I possess someone, I don't just see their memories. I see their *connections*. Every person they've met. Every secret they've kept. Every crime they've witnessed."
"And?"
"And your execution was witnessed by three hundred people. Reporters. Officials. A judge. A doctor. Guards." Her face reformed, piece by piece. "But one of those witnesses wasn't who he said he was."
Jiang Chen's chest tightened.
"His name was Zhang Wei. He was listed as a medical examiner's assistant. But when I possessed the real Zhang Wei three years ago, I saw his memories. He never worked at that prison. He never even visited."
"Someone replaced him."
"Someone replaced him for exactly one day. The day of your execution." She tilted her head. "Do you want to know who paid him?"
"You're going to say you don't know."
"No." She smiled. "I *do* know. Because the real Zhang Wei was curious. He tried to investigate the imposter. And the imposter caught him. Threatened him. Told him that if he ever spoke about it, his wife would die."
Jiang Chen's hands were shaking again. "Who paid him?"
"A man named Chen Feng. A mid-level bureaucrat in the Ministry of Justice." She paused. "But Chen Feng didn't act alone. He was just a messenger. The real money came from someone higher."
"Who?"
"I don't have that name. Chen Feng never knew it. He only knew that the payments came from an offshore account registered to a shell company called..." She frowned, searching her fragmented memories. "Jade Mountain Holdings."
The name meant nothing to him.
But it was something. A thread.
"Take me back to Diyu," she said. "Let me speak to the judges. I'll give them everything I have. Not just about your case. About every crime I've witnessed, every secret I've stolen, every body I've worn."
"You're still trying to make a deal."
"I'm trying to *survive*." Her voice cracked. "You don't understand what happens to ghosts like me in Diyu. They don't just judge us. They *erase* us. Our memories. Our identities. Everything we were."
"That's the point of judgment."
"Easy for you to say. You're alive. You get to walk back to the mortal world. You get to have a future." Her eyes burned. "I've been dead for twenty-three years. I've spent seventeen of them clinging to existence. I don't want to be erased."
Jiang Chen stared at her.
He understood her.
That was still his mistake.
"Fine," he said. "I'll take you to Diyu. But not to the judges. Not yet."
"Then where?"
"To the records hall. I need to check something first."
She studied him. "You don't trust me."
"I trust that you're using me. The question is whether I can use you back." He stood, gripping his staff. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but he could manage a few more hours. "If the information you gave me is real, I'll advocate for you. I'll tell the judges you cooperated."
"And if it's not?"
"Then I'll personally make sure they erase you twice."
She laughed. It was almost genuine.
"You're learning, Soul Reaper. Give you a few more decades, and you might actually be good at this."
"Shut up and move."
They left the warehouse together.
---
The path to Diyu was different every time he crossed it.
Sometimes it was a dark tunnel. Sometimes a staircase descending into fog. Sometimes a river he had to wade through. Tonight, it was a mirror.
He found it in an alley behind a noodle shop. A full-length mirror propped against a wall, its surface shimmering like water. The reflection showed a street that didn't match the one behind him.
"Through there," he said.
Lin Shuiying hesitated. "I've never returned voluntarily."
"There's a first time for everything."
She stepped through first. Her soul rippled as it crossed the threshold, stretching like taffy before snapping back into shape. Jiang Chen followed, and the world turned upside down.
Diyu was cold.
Not the cold of winter or high altitude. The cold of *absence*. The cold of places where warmth had never existed and never would. The sky was a bruised purple, perpetually twilight. The ground was cracked obsidian that reflected nothing.
In the distance, the Ten Courts rose like black teeth against the horizon.
"Records hall is in the Fourth Court," Jiang Chen said. "Stay close. Don't talk to anyone."
"Anyone? There's no one here."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a pillar just as a procession of Soul Scribes walked past. They were humanoid but wrong—their bodies made of paper, their faces blank except for mouths that moved constantly, whispering the deeds of the dead.
Lin Shuiying pressed herself against him, her soul shivering.
"I forgot how terrible this place is."
"You get used to it."
"No. You really don't."
They moved through the shadows of Diyu, avoiding patrols, slipping through gates that shouldn't have opened for them. Jiang Chen's Judge's Seal got them through most checkpoints. The rest, he bribed with memories—small ones, worthless ones, the taste of his mother's cooking, the smell of rain on concrete.
After an hour, they reached the Fourth Court's records hall.
It was a building the size of a city block, filled with shelves that stretched into infinity. Each shelf held scrolls. Each scroll held a life. Every human who had ever lived was recorded here, their deeds and misdeeds catalogued in a script that only the judges could read.
"Stay by the door," Jiang Chen said. "If anyone comes, warn me."
"What are you looking for?"
"My file."
He walked into the maze of shelves, running his fingers along the scrolls. They were organized by date of death. Recent decades were near the front. He found the shelf for his execution date and pulled a scroll at random.
*Name: Li Wei. Born: 1987. Died: 2024. Cause: Cardiac arrest. Judgment: Reincarnation (Animal Realm, third tier).*
He put it back. Pulled another.
*Name: Zhang Xiaoling. Born: 1992. Died: 2024. Cause: Suicide by jumping. Judgment: Penance Hall, 47 years.*
Another.
*Name: Wang Jun. Born: 1985. Died: 2024. Cause: Execution by lethal injection. Judgment: Pending.*
His hands stopped.
The scroll was labeled with his name. His execution date. His cause of death.
He unrolled it.
And the world stopped.
*Name: Jiang Chen. Born: 1991. Died: 2024. Cause: Execution by lethal injection.*
*Judgment: Pending.*
Below that, in a different hand, a note had been added.
*Case flagged for review. Original sentencing judge found to have accepted bribes. Evidence of tampering confirmed. Recommend full exoneration and compensation.*
*Signed: Judge Zhao, Third Court.*
Jiang Chen stared at the words.
Exoneration.
Compensation.
He'd been dead for three weeks. And Diyu already knew he was innocent.
"Found something interesting?"
He spun around.
Lin Shuiying was standing behind him, reading over his shoulder.
"You said the judges didn't know."
"I said they might not care." She shrugged. "Looks like they do."
"Then why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because you're a Soul Reaper now. Your old life doesn't matter. Your death doesn't matter. What matters is that you collect souls and stay out of trouble." She tapped the scroll. "They probably planned to tell you after your probation period. Or never."
Jiang Chen's hands curled into fists.
"Who signed the review?"
"Judge Zhao. Third Court." She pointed. "But look at the date."
He looked.
*Date of review: Day 4 of your death.*
Four days after his execution. They'd found out almost immediately.
And they hadn't told him.
"Why?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Because keeping you angry keeps you useful." Lin Shuiying's eyes glittered. "A Soul Reaper with nothing to lose is dangerous. A Soul Reaper with something to *gain* is predictable."
"I'm not—"
"You are." She stepped closer.
The black light from Jiang Chen's staff didn't just push her back.
It *tore* her.
Lin Shuiying's soul fragmented like glass hitting concrete, shattering into a dozen shimmering pieces that scattered across the abandoned warehouse floor. Each piece writhed independently, trying to reform, trying to remember what it was supposed to be.
Jiang Chen stumbled backward, gasping. The staff's feedback burned up his arms, through his chest, into his skull. He'd never used that much power before. He'd never *needed* to.
"Look what you did," the pieces whispered. Dozen voices overlapping, out of sync, speaking in fragments. "Look look look what you *did*."
The largest piece—her torso, her head, one arm—crawled across the concrete toward him. Her face was half there, half scattered. One eye blinked. The other was empty space.
"You broke me."
"I'll do worse." His voice shook. "Stay back."
"Why?" The fragments laughed, a chorus of discordant notes. "You need me. You need my *names*."
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
Jiang Chen forced himself to breathe. The warehouse smelled like rust and rat droppings. Moonlight filtered through broken windows, illuminating the swirling dust motes that danced around Lin Shuiying's scattered soul.
"I can put myself back together," she said, the largest piece dragging itself closer. "But it'll take time. And every second we waste, your truth gets buried deeper."
"Stop moving."
"Make me."
He raised the staff again. The black light flickered weakly. He'd spent too much of whatever fuel powered it. The Judge's Seal on his wrist felt cold, distant. He was running on empty.
"Ah." Lin Shuiying's half-face smiled. "You're tapped out. How unfortunate."
The scattered fragments began to move faster, sliding across the floor like mercury, converging toward the central mass. She was right—she *was* putting herself back together. And he was too exhausted to stop her.
Jiang Chen did the only thing he could think of.
He sat down.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
"While I regenerate?"
"You're a con woman." He rubbed his face. "You've been lying for seventeen years. You lied to your victims. You lied to the soul reapers who caught you. You're lying to me right now."
"I'm not—"
"You *are*. Because that's what you do. It's not even about survival anymore. It's just who you are." He looked at her. "So I need to figure out which parts of what you said were true and which were bait."
Her pieces stopped moving.
"Let's start with the obvious. You said you could prove I was framed. You said you had names. But you're a ghost who's been possessing people for seventeen years. You haven't been in the mortal world. You haven't talked to anyone connected to my case."
Her face flickered.
"So how would you know anything about my death?"
The silence stretched.
"You want me to answer that." Her voice was different now. Softer. Almost careful. "You want me to prove I'm telling the truth."
"I want you to stop playing games."
"Then listen." The fragments began to merge, slower now, deliberate. "When I possess someone, I don't just see their memories. I see their *connections*. Every person they've met. Every secret they've kept. Every crime they've witnessed."
"And?"
"And your execution was witnessed by three hundred people. Reporters. Officials. A judge. A doctor. Guards." Her face reformed, piece by piece. "But one of those witnesses wasn't who he said he was."
Jiang Chen's chest tightened.
"His name was Zhang Wei. He was listed as a medical examiner's assistant. But when I possessed the real Zhang Wei three years ago, I saw his memories. He never worked at that prison. He never even visited."
"Someone replaced him."
"Someone replaced him for exactly one day. The day of your execution." She tilted her head. "Do you want to know who paid him?"
"You're going to say you don't know."
"No." She smiled. "I *do* know. Because the real Zhang Wei was curious. He tried to investigate the imposter. And the imposter caught him. Threatened him. Told him that if he ever spoke about it, his wife would die."
Jiang Chen's hands were shaking again. "Who paid him?"
"A man named Chen Feng. A mid-level bureaucrat in the Ministry of Justice." She paused. "But Chen Feng didn't act alone. He was just a messenger. The real money came from someone higher."
"Who?"
"I don't have that name. Chen Feng never knew it. He only knew that the payments came from an offshore account registered to a shell company called..." She frowned, searching her fragmented memories. "Jade Mountain Holdings."
The name meant nothing to him.
But it was something. A thread.
"Take me back to Diyu," she said. "Let me speak to the judges. I'll give them everything I have. Not just about your case. About every crime I've witnessed, every secret I've stolen, every body I've worn."
"You're still trying to make a deal."
"I'm trying to *survive*." Her voice cracked. "You don't understand what happens to ghosts like me in Diyu. They don't just judge us. They *erase* us. Our memories. Our identities. Everything we were."
"That's the point of judgment."
"Easy for you to say. You're alive. You get to walk back to the mortal world. You get to have a future." Her eyes burned. "I've been dead for twenty-three years. I've spent seventeen of them clinging to existence. I don't want to be erased."
Jiang Chen stared at her.
He understood her.
That was still his mistake.
"Fine," he said. "I'll take you to Diyu. But not to the judges. Not yet."
"Then where?"
"To the records hall. I need to check something first."
She studied him. "You don't trust me."
"I trust that you're using me. The question is whether I can use you back." He stood, gripping his staff. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but he could manage a few more hours. "If the information you gave me is real, I'll advocate for you. I'll tell the judges you cooperated."
"And if it's not?"
"Then I'll personally make sure they erase you twice."
She laughed. It was almost genuine.
"You're learning, Soul Reaper. Give you a few more decades, and you might actually be good at this."
"Shut up and move."
They left the warehouse together.
---
The path to Diyu was different every time he crossed it.
Sometimes it was a dark tunnel. Sometimes a staircase descending into fog. Sometimes a river he had to wade through. Tonight, it was a mirror.
He found it in an alley behind a noodle shop. A full-length mirror propped against a wall, its surface shimmering like water. The reflection showed a street that didn't match the one behind him.
"Through there," he said.
Lin Shuiying hesitated. "I've never returned voluntarily."
"There's a first time for everything."
She stepped through first. Her soul rippled as it crossed the threshold, stretching like taffy before snapping back into shape. Jiang Chen followed, and the world turned upside down.
Diyu was cold.
Not the cold of winter or high altitude. The cold of *absence*. The cold of places where warmth had never existed and never would. The sky was a bruised purple, perpetually twilight. The ground was cracked obsidian that reflected nothing.
In the distance, the Ten Courts rose like black teeth against the horizon.
"Records hall is in the Fourth Court," Jiang Chen said. "Stay close. Don't talk to anyone."
"Anyone? There's no one here."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a pillar just as a procession of Soul Scribes walked past. They were humanoid but wrong—their bodies made of paper, their faces blank except for mouths that moved constantly, whispering the deeds of the dead.
Lin Shuiying pressed herself against him, her soul shivering.
"I forgot how terrible this place is."
"You get used to it."
"No. You really don't."
They moved through the shadows of Diyu, avoiding patrols, slipping through gates that shouldn't have opened for them. Jiang Chen's Judge's Seal got them through most checkpoints. The rest, he bribed with memories—small ones, worthless ones, the taste of his mother's cooking, the smell of rain on concrete.
After an hour, they reached the Fourth Court's records hall.
It was a building the size of a city block, filled with shelves that stretched into infinity. Each shelf held scrolls. Each scroll held a life. Every human who had ever lived was recorded here, their deeds and misdeeds catalogued in a script that only the judges could read.
"Stay by the door," Jiang Chen said. "If anyone comes, warn me."
"What are you looking for?"
"My file."
He walked into the maze of shelves, running his fingers along the scrolls. They were organized by date of death. Recent decades were near the front. He found the shelf for his execution date and pulled a scroll at random.
*Name: Li Wei. Born: 1987. Died: 2024. Cause: Cardiac arrest. Judgment: Reincarnation (Animal Realm, third tier).*
He put it back. Pulled another.
*Name: Zhang Xiaoling. Born: 1992. Died: 2024. Cause: Suicide by jumping. Judgment: Penance Hall, 47 years.*
Another.
*Name: Wang Jun. Born: 1985. Died: 2024. Cause: Execution by lethal injection. Judgment: Pending.*
His hands stopped.
The scroll was labeled with his name. His execution date. His cause of death.
He unrolled it.
And the world stopped.
*Name: Jiang Chen. Born: 1991. Died: 2024. Cause: Execution by lethal injection.*
*Judgment: Pending.*
Below that, in a different hand, a note had been added.
*Case flagged for review. Original sentencing judge found to have accepted bribes. Evidence of tampering confirmed. Recommend full exoneration and compensation.*
*Signed: Judge Zhao, Third Court.*
Jiang Chen stared at the words.
Exoneration.
Compensation.
He'd been dead for three weeks. And Diyu already knew he was innocent.
"Found something interesting?"
He spun around.
Lin Shuiying was standing behind him, reading over his shoulder.
"You said the judges didn't know."
"I said they might not care." She shrugged. "Looks like they do."
"Then why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because you're a Soul Reaper now. Your old life doesn't matter. Your death doesn't matter. What matters is that you collect souls and stay out of trouble." She tapped the scroll. "They probably planned to tell you after your probation period. Or never."
Jiang Chen's hands curled into fists.
"Who signed the review?"
"Judge Zhao. Third Court." She pointed. "But look at the date."
He looked.
*Date of review: Day 4 of your death.*
Four days after his execution. They'd found out almost immediately.
And they hadn't told him.
"Why?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Because keeping you angry keeps you useful." Lin Shuiying's eyes glittered. "A Soul Reaper with nothing to lose is dangerous. A Soul Reaper with something to *gain* is predictable."
"I'm not—"
"You are." She stepped closer.