I was struck by lightning and I was speechless for a long time.

Lao He urged suspiciously: "Don't be stunned!"

"Didn't you see that?"

Lao He was stunned: "What are you looking at? Hurry up and push!"

Obviously, he didn't see the picture just now.

I didn't speak, just a force in my hand and pushed the corpse into the stove.

"Hum!"

The incinerator was running in an instant, and the hands of the thermometer soared.

"Woo......

With the long exhaust sound of the chimney, my heart hung up.

Lao He opened the door of the stove and urged, "Prepare to sweep the ashes."

However, the moment the door opened, the entire incinerator exploded!

The force of the explosion shattered all the windows.

Under the shards of glass in the sky, Lao He and I flew upside down like off-string kites.

At the same time, a puff of dust came to my face.

The dust that caught you off guard was like a flour mill that had exploded, and the room was covered with dust.

There were only a few steps between me and Lao He, and I couldn't see where the others were.

I struggled to get up and shouted, "Uncle He!"

"I'm a mother!"

After a long time, Lao He's scolding voice floated out from the corner of the wall.

"Why did this stove explode?"

I'm also dizzy from the bombing now, thinking, didn't Chen Changming send me a bomb?

The more I thought about it, the more it became true.

After all, this old bastard has no bottom line, and it is not unusual for him to do this.

After a while, Lao He finally reacted and jumped to his feet and shouted.

I quickly grabbed him and whispered, "Shhh Don't shout."

The cracking of the doors and windows blew in the night breeze, and the dust in front of me gradually dispersed.

I turned my head to see that the incinerator had been blown up.

For a moment, my heart sank to the bottom.

I blew up the stove, and the curator must not bury me alive?

Lao He staggered, slowly approached the incinerator, and poked his head in to take a look.

"Something is wrong."

I hurried over and asked, "See what's wrong?"

"Look."

Lao He put his hand into the stove and slammed his fingers on the furnace wall.

He looked at the black, creamy object on his hand, placed it under his nose, and sniffed it carefully.

"Gross."

I couldn't hold back any of them, and I almost threw up.

This stove has been used for so many years, and the walls of the furnace are hung with years of accumulated body fat.

"You smell it."

Lao He was a little flustered, and put the black paste directly in front of me.

The smell of oil immediately rushed into my nostrils.

The next second, I suddenly felt that something was wrong.

The black paste does have a stench, but there is a very pungent smell mixed with it.

"Is there a problem?"

Lao He held the black paste in one hand and asked again.

Once the furnace is in operation, a large amount of diesel fuel is injected to ensure complete incineration.

I instinctively asked, "Is it diesel?"

"Absolutely not!"

Lao He swore that "the diesel fuel will melt with the corpse and will not hang on the wall."

"It tastes a bit like tung oil."

"Are you sure?"

Lao He wiped the ashes on his face: "When I first learned the craft, I had seen all kinds of oil."

He sniffed it again, and added with great certainty, "My nose is more powerful than a dog, and I can't be wrong!"

Tung oil is mainly used to make utensils such as oil-paper umbrellas.

The production area of this thing is mainly in the south, and the northerners basically do not use it.

I knew that the matter must be with the corpse, but the corpse and tung oil could not be connected.

Besides, if there was really tung oil on this corpse, I must have smelled it.

Tut.

I don't understand.

At this time, Lao He squatted down tremblingly and dipped his hands on the ashes on the ground.

"Xiao Chenzi!"

He turned around and called out to me, "What did you send me?"

"What?" I replied, confused, "Corpses."

"Come and see for yourself!"

I grabbed the ashes on the ground and rubbed them with my hands.

The ashes are rough to the touch and have a distinct grainy feel to the touch.

However, the ash on my hands is extremely fine, a bit like refined flour.

I lay on the ground and saw that the blue-white dust was mixed with some black vertical strips.

As a rural kid, I'm all too familiar with this thing.

This is typical grass ash!

Grass and trees, tung oil, corpses.

I suddenly felt a slight connection, but I always felt that something was missing......