Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 782 - 15. 168 Hours (Part 2)

Chapter 782: 15. 168 Hours (Part 2)

Meng Quan suppressed his inner fear, at least he couldn’t let Chen Rong discover it.

Chen Rong had become the source, constantly emitting a rotten corpse stench.

The lemon-scented freshener quickly dissipated, overtaken by the overwhelming scent of decay, even ventilation couldn’t blow away the pervasive smell.

No matter how much Meng Quan could mentally endure his wife’s decay, his physical self couldn’t handle it.

So when his wife approached him with a nauseating corpse stench to hold him, he exerted immense willpower to suppress his spasming stomach.

Three minutes later.

"Ugh—"

Meng Quan leaned over the sink, removed the toothbrush and spat out the foam from his mouth.

Took a sip of water, gargled, and spit it out. Meng Quan wiped his face, looked up, and noticed the bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

In just three days, he had already become quite haggard.

Turning off the faucet, Meng Quan walked out of the bathroom.

His wife, sitting in front of the sofa watching TV, turned her head, ugly corpse spots crawling over her face, she smiled subtly: "What do you want for breakfast?"

The skin on her neck twisted together, forming circle after circle of black-purple bruises.

"No need, I’ll... go out to buy some, you wait at home."

Meng Quan’s eyes were filled with panic and dread, he dashed out through the door.

Chen Rong stared blankly at the closed door, a faint dimness flashed and disappeared.

Dozens of minutes later, Meng Quan returned slowly. Chen Rong seemed oblivious to her husband’s hesitance, casually saying: "I’ve been feeling like I’ve gotten dull lately, Richard Li just called, and it took me ages to remember who he was?"

"Who is he?" Meng Quan noticed it was an unfamiliar name.

"An old classmate," Chen Rong answered indifferently.

Meng Quan noted it down secretly, and had an unsettling lunch.

On the TV, voices were broadcasted.

[A Flower Season girl was driven to suicide by rumors. Dr. Zhao Lijuan, as an expert in psychological issues, how do you view such matters...]

Recently, it seemed something major had happened to Lingling, but Meng Quan didn’t have the energy to care about anything else.

"Your blanket’s not folded yet?"

"Hmm... Seems like no."

"I’ll go fold the blanket."

Meng Quan hurriedly walked towards the bedroom.

The bed was a mess, some dirty blood stained the sheets and covers.

Meng Quan casually tidied up a bit, then quietly reached for his wife’s phone.

The phone password was 0513, his birthday.

He flipped through the chat records and indeed found a call record from a few minutes ago.

Glancing towards the door, Meng Quan quietly clicked the record and chose to call.

[Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep—Sorry, the phone you are dialing is not in service, please try again later. Sorry...]

Meng Quan pondered whether he should delete the call record.

Maybe he was overthinking.

Meng Quan walked in, carrying a bucket and a mop. The liquid in the bucket emitted a pungent smell—it was filled with disinfectant.

The mop soaked in water left wet streaks on the floor.

The disinfectant smell began to spread, countering and ultimately overshadowing the room’s corpse stench.

Smelling the lingering disinfectant smell, Meng Quan suddenly understood why hospitals used it.

The disinfectant scent soon covered the corpse stench, at least Meng Quan couldn’t smell it anymore; but when approaching his wife, that lingering corpse stench rewrapped around his nose.

After breakfast, Meng Quan couldn’t wait to run off to work—he had never looked forward to work as much as he did now.

Until he returned in the evening, seeing the murky, white-speckled eyes by the door close at hand staring at him, the pupils nearly invisible.

"Chen Rong?" Meng Quan called reflexively.

Chen Rong by the door stiffly turned her head, her voice dead and lifeless: "Do you love me..."

On Chen Rong’s body, what was called consciousness was fading.

"I...I..." Meng Quan stammered, unable to speak.

"Then let us... merge... into one."

His wife suddenly twitched, and her tone gradually turned eerie.

On the forehead, the skull broke open, and a blood-red tentacle squirmed out.

An indescribable fear enveloped Meng Quan’s entire body,

he screamed, pushed Chen Rong away, and in a panic fled out the door.

Bang!

"Husband, don’t go—"

From behind the door came Chen Rong’s cries, like a piercing scream, dragging on with a long sob and tail.

Over the next three days, Meng Quan stayed at the company. He worked during the day and rested in the office under the guise of working overtime at night.

But his thoughts raced uncontrollably back home.

Finally, on the seventh day after Chen Rong went missing and returned, he couldn’t let go of his wife, Meng Quan ran home in the morning amid the pouring rain.

Pushing the door open, the corpse stench spread out, though not as intense.

He forgot he left the door open, searched around the bedroom and study, the source of the corpse stench was gone, implying his wife was no longer there.

Bang—

The corridor echoed with a door closing, an elderly woman emerged from next door, paused her steps as she passed the door, and asked puzzled: "What smells so bad?"

Meng Quan startled, casually made up: "Apologies Sister Wang, my wife went back to her family not long ago, I didn’t cook myself, the leftovers went bad, I’m airing it out now, sorry about that."

"Oh, no problem, I was just asking." The elderly woman walked away slowly.

Meng Quan sat back on the sofa, holding his head.

In the empty, desolate, gray living room, he sat alone in the middle of the sofa.

His wife’s former image seemed to echo in his ears.

Meng Quan felt a sense of loss and sadness in his heart.

He understood he might have already lost her forever.