Corpse Retriever

Li Zhuiyuan noticed that quite a few cats and dogs had come skittering under the dining table, and there was one right by his feet.

He picked up a rib and, while no one was looking, flicked it down. The dog below snapped it up immediately and started chewing.

After that, every dish the enthusiastic Shouyi Grandpa placed in front of him, Li Zhuiyuan quietly tossed under the table. Before long, a small gathering of cats and dogs had formed at his side.

He recognized most of them—he’d seen them earlier that day near the paper effigies—but back then they hadn’t seemed so lively. Or so hungry.

Shouyi Grandpa said, “Kid, tell your little sister to eat. She’s just sitting there, not touching anything.”

Li Zhuiyuan turned his head and played along. “Little sister, go ahead and eat.”

But the moment he spoke, Qin Li picked up her chopsticks and began picking at the dishes. She took three bites and placed them in her bowl, then lowered her head and opened her mouth.

Wait, seriously? You’re actually eating it?

Li Zhuiyuan quickly tugged at her hand.

Qin Li turned her head to look at him. This time, her eyes actually had emotion in them—faint, but real. A flicker of confusion.He leaned in and whispered by her ear—completely normal for siblings.

“Don’t eat it. Feed it to the animals under the table.”

Qin Li glanced down, saw the cluster of cats and dogs, then stood up and reached for an entire plate.

She was about to dump the whole thing under the table.

That kind of move drew immediate frowns from the other diners.

Li Zhuiyuan sprang to his feet, snatched the plate back, and returned it to the table with a smile. “Little sister, this food is for everyone. Don’t be greedy—it’s not all yours.”

The adults at the table relaxed at that and started chiming in.

“If she likes it, let her have it. It’s fine.”

“Just leave the dish in front of her.”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head vigorously. “No, that wouldn’t be proper.”

Boom… pop!

The sound of firecrackers exploded outside, and the children at nearby tables started covering their ears and yelling.

There were at least a dozen firecrackers in a row. When the last one ended, the entire banquet hall dimmed, and everyone at the tables suddenly froze. Even the neighboring tables stopped moving.

Everyone sat rigid and upright, eyes fixed forward.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t know what was going on, but he quickly mimicked their posture. Out of the corner of his eye, he peeked at Qin Li. She didn’t need to copy anyone—she looked like a pro.

From the front door, an old woman entered, surrounded by a group of young boys and girls.

Her presence changed the whole room. The air itself felt heavier.

Through the gaps between heads, Li Zhuiyuan recognized her immediately. It was the same old woman from his dream at Liu Jinxia’s house—the one carried on Niu Fu’s back.

What was she doing here?

He remembered clearly: Niu Fu had a hunched back when he left Great-grandpa’s house.

The old woman was stooped, but her energy was unnaturally high. Her eyes gleamed green, and tufts of fine down covered her face.

Also, there seemed to be a few black threads on her cheeks… or were those whiskers?

It almost looked like… a cat’s face.

She walked to the main table below the stage, smiled at everyone, and said, “Today’s my birthday. Thank you all for coming. Be sure to eat and drink your fill, hehe.”

As soon as she spoke, the darkness lifted. Color returned to the hall.

Everyone who had been sitting stiffly began eating, chatting, and laughing as if nothing had happened.

Li Zhuiyuan felt relieved. He and Qin Li were seated at just the right angle—half-turned away from the old woman, with several tables in between. They were kids and small enough that they probably wouldn’t be noticed.

Just as he was feeling lucky, he saw the old woman pick up a wine cup and start making rounds, toasting each table.

If he recognized her, she must recognize him too.

And this place… it wasn’t just a dream. Li Zhuiyuan was now sure this was something else entirely—a different kind of realm.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t let her see him.

She toasted quickly, a few words and a sip per table. At this rate, she’d reach theirs in no time.

Li Zhuiyuan turned to Qin Li and said loudly, “What? You miss Grandma?”

Qin Li looked at him, more confused than ever.

He smacked the underside of the table. The whole thing rattled, and several diners lost the food on their chopsticks.

“Hey, don’t act up. We’re eating! If you don’t want to eat, don’t ruin it for the rest of us!”

Qin Li’s confusion deepened.

Li Zhuiyuan looked at the others and apologized. “Sorry, my sister’s…”

He tapped his own forehead.

The others nodded in understanding. Her brain was fried—no wonder she was acting weird.

He pulled Qin Li to her feet. “Fine, I’ll take you to find Grandma. Honestly, I haven’t even had my fill!”

Then he dragged her toward the exit. But as they got close, he saw a line of men standing there, all dressed in old-fashioned livery.

Some were chatting, others lighting firecracker fuses. Each was busy, but they had the doorway completely blocked.

There was no getting out that way. And judging by the old woman’s pace, she didn’t plan on just one toast round. If they stayed, she’d eventually spot them, no matter how well they hid.

Li Zhuiyuan scanned the room. The stairs to the second floor were gone. The only remaining spot to hide was the northwest corner—the kitchen.

From there, he could hear the sound of cooking.

He tugged Qin Li in that direction, grumbling loudly as they went.

“See what you did, insisting on finding Grandma.”

“So many good dishes and I didn’t even get to eat properly.”

“Ugh, now they’re bringing out the chicken soup and I missed the drumstick!”

As expected, nobody paid them much attention. The other diners were busy eating and drinking, their feet shadow-free. Everything seemed normal.

Finally, they slipped into the kitchen.

Inside was a large plastic basin surrounded by dirty dishes. Seven or eight elderly women squatted nearby, scrubbing with rags.

But the basin wasn’t filled with water—it was sand. They were cleaning the dishes with sand.

At the big stove, a rotund chef in an apron was expertly stir-frying. He clearly had professional skills.

But the baskets of ingredients beside him were all filled with stacks of white paper;

His seasoning jars held not oil or soy sauce, but pigments of various colors;

And a large bucket nearby was full of paste.

He heated the paste first, tossed in the white paper, stir-fried with practiced motions, added pigments, then fired it up on high heat to thicken. When he plated the dish, it came out looking and smelling just like real food.

The flames under the stove weren’t a normal color either. They flickered ghost-green, like will-o’-the-wisps.

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