Corpse Retriever

Cuicui smiled again. She was happy to hear that Ah Li didn’t hate her in particular—she just hated everyone. That meant she was being treated the same as the rest of the village.

After all, the others only hated her—but Ah Li? Ah Li saw everyone equally.

Li Zhuiyuan put down his book and pulled out some snacks. They started chatting.

Well, mostly Li Zhuiyuan and Cuicui chatted. Qin Li stayed quiet.

Because Cuicui was there, Li Zhuiyuan had to keep holding Qin Li’s hand the whole time—otherwise she might suddenly lash out.

Cuicui munched away, her eyes flitting between Little Yuanhou and Sister Qin Li, mostly on Sister Qin Li, because she was just so beautiful.

Cuicui had no other thoughts—no possessiveness like kids sometimes have, that “you have to play with me and not with her” kind of thinking. That simply wasn’t part of her world.

She was genuinely happy to have made a new friend today. Especially after hearing from Little Yuanhou that Qin Li had always been alone, with no friends—Cuicui felt so sad. This beautiful sister was even worse off than she was.

Soon, Li Juxiang’s voice came from downstairs, calling her home.

“Bye, Little Yuanhou! Bye, Sister Ah Li! I’ll come play with you again in a few days!”Li Zhuiyuan waved at her and lifted Ah Li’s hand to wave too.

He could feel her slight resistance.

Once Cuicui had gone, Li Zhuiyuan looked down at Qin Li and said:

“I know you’ve gotten used to shutting yourself away in that darkness. But I still think you should try stepping out into the world a little, feel it for yourself. Then you can decide whether or not you want to go back.”

Qin Li didn’t say anything. She just stared intently at Li Zhuiyuan.

After those strange, inexplicable sensations he’d had lately, Li Zhuiyuan more and more felt like Ah Li’s present was his own future.

No—judging by how his mother was doing, his future might be even worse.

What followed was a quiet period of reading.

Thanks to the time he’d already spent with the book—and the two actual “Dead Sinkers” he’d encountered—Li Zhuiyuan now tore through Records of Strange Happenings in the Martial World at comic-book speed.

Every page, every case, he scanned quickly, eyes picking out key phrases and details to memorize before flipping on.

With the right frame of reference now, every other Dead Sinker case was just a mix-and-match of familiar elements.

It reminded him of flipping through new textbooks as a kid.

One volume after another.

He just finished Volume 42, right before Aunt Liu called him to dinner.

In the bottom right corner of the last page, a few tiny lines were scrawled:

This book is the result of wandering through heaven and earth, across rivers and lakes. The common man will read it as idle tales to pass the time over tea; but if you find yourself savoring it—then misfortune has already chosen you.

May fortune find you, brother.

—Wei Zhengdao

Leaning back into his rattan chair, one hand behind his head, Li Zhuiyuan sighed.

This author really was something else.

As for what he said at the end—Li Zhuiyuan understood. If you’ve never seen a Dead Sinker, these stories are just ghost yarns. But if you have…

Well, bad luck’s already knocking.

Then he felt a small, soft hand slide under his, their fingertips linking behind his head. It was Qin Li.

He smiled at her, then closed his eyes for a nap. After dinner, he’d head to the basement to find a new book.

Strangely enough, it felt more comfortable resting on someone else’s hand.

Qin Li studied the boy’s face as he lay with his eyes closed. His hair. His forehead. His eyes, nose, lips. Then she traced back, counting his eyelashes one by one.

During dinner, Grandpa Shan announced he’d have Runsheng wheel him to the town clinic tomorrow for dentures, then back home. In a few days, Runsheng would come stay with Li Sanjiang.

Once there was work, he’d have someone fetch Runsheng to do corpse retrieval.

Li Sanjiang slammed his chopsticks in anger.

“So you’re keeping your mule in my yard? You drag him off when you need him, then dump him here to eat my feed?”

If he just ate regular feed that’d be one thing—but the man ate more than everyone else combined!

Back when Tinghou cooked, one pot of rice was enough. With this guy around, they needed a whole extra pot just for him.

Grandpa Shan puffed on his water pipe and glanced at the little table, where Li Zhuiyuan sat eating with the beautiful girl.

He laughed.

“I’m just saying, Sanjianghou, you’re getting up there in years. You need someone to take over. If it’s not Runshenghou, are you banking on Little Yuanhou?”

“Bullshit!”

“Is it though? Let me finish. You got Little Yuanhou’s grandpa to take care of you in old age—that was a smart call. I trust your judgment. But you’ve lived soft your whole life. You really think you’ll manage when you’re stuck in bed someday? What, sell the house for scrap? And if you run out of things to sell and you’re still alive? Gonna live on gruel?”

“Sure, that Hanhou kid won’t let you starve, but look at the life he’s living now.”

“To grow old comfortably, you need more than someone wiping your ass. You need…”

Grandpa Shan rubbed two fingers together toward Li Sanjiang.

“Income. Runshenghou might eat a lot, but when it comes to corpse retrieval, he’s one of the best. Kid’s got real talent.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can’t afford the rice. Just cut down his meat and veggie portions. Keep the rice coming. Simple!”

“What about incense?”

Aunt Liu, bringing in soup, joined the conversation with a smile.

“I know how to make it the old-fashioned way. More than enough for him—and maybe a little side business for us.”

“Uh…” Li Sanjiang rubbed his nose. It actually sounded pretty good. But then he glared at Grandpa Shan.

“What about your retirement? You giving me Runshenghou—what, you planning to freeload off me?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll die quick.”

“What kind of thing is that to say?”

“The truth. I’ve seen how it ends. I won’t get your kind of good death. No comfy bed for me.”

“Why not just have Runshenghou break your legs now, then you’ll be in bed already!”

Grandpa Shan: “…”

After all that cursing and back-and-forth, the arrangement was silently agreed upon.

Li Zhuiyuan was pleased. Watching Runsheng drooling while waiting for incense to finish burning—what a guy. With Runsheng around, his studies had a hands-on component.

After dinner, Li Zhuiyuan walked Qin Li back to the east room, then went to grab his flashlight and fresh batteries from the drawer.

Old rural habit: remove the batteries when not in use, to save power.

He wasn’t planning to ask Great-Grandpa to change the basement lightbulb. Flashlight in hand, he liked the feeling—like a treasure hunt.

He followed the beam back to the first box he’d opened. Still plenty of books inside. He’d go through them one box at a time.

Flashlight in his left, he reached in with his right—like drawing a lottery—and eventually pulled out two thick stacks of books.

They were hardcover volumes bound into neat sets, each with eight books. No titles on the slipcases.

He pulled one book from each set. Still no titles on the covers.

He opened one, and under the flashlight beam, froze.

Handwritten. Beautiful, neat calligraphy. But the font was tiny—like ants’ legs—and both sides of the pages were crammed full.

So even though the books weren’t thick, they were dense.

He might actually need a magnifying glass.

He opened the other set. Same handwriting. Same ant-sized font.

Were they by the same author?

He searched the inside flaps of both slipcases and finally found two small white labels.

The titles were:

Comprehensive Treatise on Yin-Yang Physiognomy

Theory of Fate Structure and Projection

One was about face reading, the other about fortune telling.

Li Zhuiyuan tapped his flashlight, the beam flickering across his small, thoughtful face.

“Hmm… Doesn’t seem all that useful?”

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