Decayed Vulgarian chapter 7
Do As You Say
After saying that, Shen Xun nervously clenched his fingers. Thankfully, the headteacher’s response was, “Sure.”
Before leaving the office, the teacher repeated, still with some concern, “I’m not saying you can’t read books like that. It’s not wrong to read such books, but it’s just not the right time. After you finish the high school entrance exam during the summer vacation, you’ll have plenty of time to explore the profession you’re interested in.”
“Your academic performance has always been excellent and stable, and you can’t afford to relax in the ninth grade, especially regarding other matters.”
These words did touch Shen Xun’s self-esteem to some extent and provided a little comfort. At least the teacher didn’t accuse him of wrongdoing. However, these effects were soon shattered and eroded by the rumors and gossip in the class. After all, in the eyes of his classmates, the teacher confiscating the book was equivalent to confirming that Shen Xun had been reading something he shouldn’t have.
Back at home, Shen Xun gazed up at the weathered white wall with a calendar hanging on it.
The teacher said he could get the book back after the high school entrance exam. But, after flipping through the more than 200 pages of the calendar paper, Shen Xun wondered if the teacher would even find the book by that time.
After much contemplation, he felt that the hope was bleak. Clutching the little money he had saved, Shen Xun ventured into the same secluded old alley.
It was the same bookstore, but the books had been updated. It was quite different from his last visit.
Shen Xun started by checking the location where he had found the “Color Atlas of Forensic Medicine” last time, but there was no sign of the book, which was disappointing.
He began an exhaustive search, going through each bookshelf from the first to the last, scanning the titles on the spines one by one. After three thorough passes, he confirmed that the book was not there. Shen Xun pursed his lips and decided to ask the bookstore owner for help. “Excuse me, do you still have the ‘Color Atlas of Forensic Medicine’?”
The bookstore owner was a white-haired grandfather in his seventies. Despite the early autumn heat, he wore a white t-shirt and black shorts. He held a black feather fan and wore square-framed reading glasses, always welcoming customers with a friendly smile.
Upon hearing the question, the white-haired grandfather, with his bushy beard, moved his lips, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. He squinted, peering through his reading glasses, and replied, “You’re the young boy who bought the color atlas last time, right? I remember you. You bought a copy, didn’t you?”
“My teacher took it away.”
“In that case, it’s gone,” the grandfather said helplessly. “This book is out of print, and there won’t be any reprints. It’s too graphic.”
Shen Xun felt a bit disappointed. “Alright, thank you.”
“Do you really want this book?”
“I want to become a forensic doctor.”
The firmness of Shen Xun’s response made the grandfather’s smile suddenly become more profound. “You remind me of a friend of mine who also wanted to become a forensic doctor when he was young.”
Shen Xuan asked, “What happened to him?”
The grandfather waved his fan with a smile. “He did become a forensic doctor in the police department. His autopsies were famous within the bureau, and they even nicknamed him ‘Chu Blade.’ But he’s retired now, running a bookstore in his old age.”
Shen Xun said, “He must be amazing.”
“It’s unfortunate you can’t buy the book anymore, but I can tell you a few stories related to forensic medicine. Would you like to hear them?”
“I’d love to.”
“Is your homework done?”
“I finished it a while ago.”
The soft summer breeze, carried by the feather fan, wrapped gently around Shen Xun’s hair. The grandfather told one thrilling story after another. These stories, once heart-pounding, were artfully processed, exaggerated through memory distortion and language, first becoming heavy old tales, then insignificant memories, and finally, they transformed into casual conversation topics. Ultimately, they became ethereal and drifted away in the hoarse and rugged voice of the elderly.
At that moment, Shen Xun suddenly felt that being a forensic doctor might also save the world.
It was a world beyond life and death, where forensic doctors were the only ones who could hear the silent voices of the deceased.
When he walked out of the bookstore, he looked up at the boundless blue sky. Through the pure white clouds, he seemed to see another world.
After returning home, Shen Xun used an online app to share recent events with Liang Yan, who was in another city. This included the confrontation with the boy in class, the teacher confiscating the book, and the storytelling grandfather.
Liang Yan’s reply was, “People who talk behind your back are idiots. Why do you care about what others say? If you want to be a forensic doctor, go for it. No one can interfere in someone else’s life.” This reassured Shen Xun.
As promised, the teacher returned his book after the high school entrance exam.
Before getting the book back, Shen Xun had written a diary about this incident. After reclaiming the book, he opened his diary once again.
He used a loose-leaf notebook for his diary, and two hole-punched sheets were accidentally left in it. Shen Xun had written many childish and sentimental thoughts, as well as his so-called insights into forensic medicine. After writing it, he simply placed it in the book.
Later, when he moved, the loose-leaf notebook got lost, and he couldn’t find it. Only the two hole-punched sheets tucked inside the “Color Atlas of Forensic Medicine” survived.
The handwriting on those pages was as childish as his thoughts, but perhaps because Shen Xun was sentimental, he had never thrown them away even after becoming a real forensic doctor.
Or maybe, the handwriting served as a reminder of his naive but idealistic dream. When his gaze landed on it, it could rekindle his occasional waning and dusty initial aspirations.
In addition, the book was filled with various sticky notes containing notes from his college years.
Shen Xun was not worried about the notes; he was more concerned that Meng Yuan Cen might be frightened by the book’s contents or come across his middle school diaries.
He lowered his gaze with a tinge of regret. There’s a saying that goes, “Who writes a diary nowadays?” And to make matters stranger, he removed the diary sheets and placed them in the book.
“Meng Yuan Cen,” Shen Xun didn’t know how to express his concerns gently and ultimately chose to be straightforward. “I suggest you don’t read this book.”
After speaking, he felt like his tone was a bit too forceful, as if he were highlighting his dissatisfaction. It had only been half a minute since he mentioned that he didn’t mind people reading the books on his shelf. He quickly added, “Because this book is too graphic and gory. If you’re not studying forensic medicine, most people wouldn’t want to see these things.”
Meng Yuan Cen closed the book and said, “Alright, I’ll do as you say.”
“I just picked it up and only looked at the table of contents. I haven’t seen the images in the back. Luckily, you stopped me,” Meng Yuan Cen continued. “Now that I think about it, it’s forensic medicine and a color atlas. I can probably guess what the content in the back is about.”
“It contains images of various typical crime scene bodies.” Shen Xun handed him a glass of hot water.
“This book looks quite old. It was probably published in the ’90s,” Meng Yuan Cen said, holding the glass with one hand.
“I bought it when I was a child. You can’t find it now; it’s out of print.” The water was still a bit hot, and Shen Xun sipped it slowly. He continued, “You can’t even find physical copies of this book on popular online shopping platforms. They only have scanned PDF versions with disclaimers on the cover, usually saying, ‘Graphic content, not for the faint-hearted, for scientific purposes only.'”
“Because it’s too gory?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, you’re the only one who has this book. Do your fellow students in your field often ask to borrow it?”
“They do,” as he talked about this, Shen Xun’s tone inexplicably took on a hint of pride. “I remember that during my college days, many of my forensic science classmates were not used to staring at computer screens reading PDFs. They said that paper books had a certain charm to them. So, they’d line up to borrow the book from me. My status in the class soared because of this. Hmm.”
Hearing this, Meng Yuan Cen couldn’t help but laugh again.