Chapter 1141: Opening the Coffin

She tapped her phone in the palm of her hand.

“Forget it, I’ll wait for him to finish his tasks.

I’m not in a hurry; I can look for him later.”

Yaen Chi: “If you don’t want him to find you, I’ll take you to find a spot later.

This road toward the suburbs should be heading to the cemetery.”

Only then did Nan Jiaojiao remember that Bo Yanching seemed to be holding a black-and-white photo earlier.

She softly responded with an “mm.”

The car indeed headed to the cemetery.

Meian Cemetery.

Bo Mu was buried at the top of the mountain.

Bo Yanching brought some good wine.

He poured two glasses, one he scattered in front of the tombstone, the other he drank himself, laughing self-deprecatingly, “It’s a pity we didn’t have many opportunities to drink together in the past.

You couldn’t handle much alcohol, just a taste would do.

Consider this glass as me, your son, sending you off.”

“Sorry for being late and neglecting you.”

Deng Chan placed some fruits and pastries in front of the tombstone, said a few words quietly, and then took some canvas sheets to cover everything.

She stood up, gently brushed the edge of the tombstone, and softly said, “Old Mu, don’t blame me.

I know you’re holding a grudge in your heart.

I’m helping you vent it out a bit.

It’s going to hurt some, bear with it.”

After speaking, she waited for a while, seemingly expecting some kind of response.

Unfortunately, aside from the lowered voices and breathing sounds around her, the voice she wanted to hear did not appear.

Deng Chan slightly clenched her fist, her curled knuckles still pressed against the tombstone, half turning back, saying, “Open it, pry the coffin.”

As soon as she spoke, there was a moment of silence at the scene.

Followed by the sound of people inhaling sharply in shock.

Everyone stared at Deng Chan with eyes full of disbelief.

Though it’s understandable to mourn a husband, isn’t she too radical?

Why insist on holding onto the corpse?

The person is dead; why keep tormenting?

Deng Chan ignored those strange looks and turned to Bo Yanching.

“Yanqing.”

Bo Yanching nodded, “Pry it open, perform the autopsy.”

While leaving the hotel, Elder Bo specifically instructed them, but none of them agreed not to proceed with the autopsy.

Elder Bo’s people did not come along, so even if the news reached him, it would already be too late.

The summit of Meian Cemetery is a place where whole bodies can be buried.

Some wealthy people are superstitious; after death, they want their bodies intact, tombstones facing a particular direction to protect the family and descendants; all these are significant.

But Bo Mu was indeed buried hastily, and he lay on the west side of the summit, not far from a cliff.

Anyone with a basic understanding of feng shui could sense the randomness.

In front of everyone, they really pried open Bo Mu’s coffin.

Deng Chan knelt beside him, her hands resting on her knees, fists clenched, body tense, eyes fixed on Bo Mu without blinking.

He wore his favorite sportswear, the set Deng Chan bought for him at the start of spring.

The size was just right then; yet now, he had thinned down to where his cheeks showed the shape of his bones, his clothes loose, indicating how slender his body inside must be.

With the wind, the hem of the clothes lifted, revealing the ribs’ outline, face pale to the point of blackness, eyes closed, a wooden, sickly death expression.

Deng Chan looked up at the sky, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.

She didn’t let her tears fall.

During the autopsy, she was already trembling, her mind blank, eyes staring at Bo Mu.

It was as if her entire body’s mechanisms forgot to react, and her eyes were unable to move away.

Clearly, she was very frightened.