Corpse Retriever

There was no sun in the afternoon; the sky hung overcast, a wind had picked up, and the rain hovered in that liminal state—neither falling nor staying away.

After a long and brutal summer, this was a rare moment of comfort.

Li Sanjiang lounged in a wicker chair, a cigarette in his left hand and a tea mug in his right. An old-fashioned radio encased in a wooden box buzzed news from the wall.

Li Zhuiyuan sat beside him, head lowered, eating watermelon.

The radio was reporting on the situation in the Middle East.

Li Sanjiang sat up, stubbed his cigarette into a Genlibao can half-filled with water, then gave the can a shake.

“Little Yuanhou, have some melon.”

“You go ahead, Taigong. I’m not that hungry.”

“This melon’s not sweet.”

“Oh, alright then.”Grinning, Li Sanjiang picked up a slice, thinking his great-grandson had tricked him into eating it.

But one bite in, he cursed on the spot:

“Bastard! I told him to pick a good one. He knocked and tapped every single one, and still brought me this trash.

Take the rest to Runsheng later.”

“Runsheng-ge already has some.”

“No matter how much you give them, it’s never enough. Used to be just Runsheng who ate a lot, now Zhuangzhuang’s appetite’s been sparked too.”

“Binbin-ge’s been using his brain more lately.”

That morning, when Li Zhuiyuan handed Tan Wenbin a whole book of math problems, he couldn’t see his expression, but he felt the air freeze for a full thirty seconds.

Tan Wenbin wanted to speak but held back. In the end, he said nothing.

At first, he just left the math book there, unopened.

But after he started learning tools with Runsheng and Li Zhuiyuan took the time to teach him some basics in physiognomy and fortune-telling, Tan Wenbin finally realized:

What you try to avoid will always wait for you on the road of life.

He’d thought he was opening a brand new door, only to find it was one he shared with the gaokao.

In the past, he’d never have believed that becoming a Corpse Retriever would require math, physics, and chemistry.

But no amount of reasoning could compare to one meal at a Corpse Retriever’s home.

Eventually, he picked up that math book and started working through it.

His grades had always been mediocre, and the problems were tough, so he worked slowly—but at least he didn’t give up.

This effort led to his recent increase in appetite, which he happily took as proof he was growing smarter.

“Speaking of which, why are they still at war over there?” Li Sanjiang wiped his hands with a rag. “I remember back when the country was just founded, they were already fighting. Our village had banners up, big slogans supporting them and condemning imperialism.”

“Yeah, it’s been going on a long time.”

The news ended and the next program began. The male and female hosts started chatting about reading.

The male host said there was a nation that respected knowledge so much that adults would smear honey on books, so children would learn to associate knowledge with sweetness.

He added that their respect for knowledge and science was why the nation had thrived after wandering for two thousand years.

The female host chimed in emotionally, praising them as the smartest people in the world.

Li Sanjiang scratched his neck with the handle of a palm fan and said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Huh?”

“Little Yuanhou, tell me—how does the smartest nation end up wandering for two thousand years?”

“You’re right, Taigong.”

At that moment, Ah Li came upstairs carrying a large bowl.

The bitter scent of Chinese medicine wafted over, and Li Zhuiyuan knew it was time for his dose.

He took the bowl from her, set it down, picked up a spoon, and began drinking, one mouthful at a time.

When it had just been nosebleeds, Aunt Liu’s decoctions were mild. But ever since he’d gone blind, the medicines had grown more potent and unbearably bitter.

He had no choice but to drink and remind himself: good medicine tastes bitter.

Li Sanjiang watched the girl with a pleased smile, nodding repeatedly.

Once he finished, Li Zhuiyuan greeted his great-grandfather, then led Ah Li to his room. He went in first and pulled out three bottles of milk.

Li Sanjiang had recently made a hefty sum. The Niu siblings’ three funerals had all hired him to conduct the sitting vigil.

When news first broke that the three Niu siblings had died around the same time, he felt uneasy—worried it was because he hadn’t properly handled the last Deathday Rite.

But the siblings had a bad reputation, and their family knew better than anyone how they had died.

Before their deaths, they’d wanted him gone to get it over with. Afterward, the younger generation panicked, terrified of following in their footsteps.

So they all came begging Li Sanjiang to perform the rites and handed him generous red envelopes.

He went. All three families scheduled their ceremonies on the same day. He worked all three jobs in one go and made a killing.

Naturally, he spent the money on treats and drinks for his great-grandson.

Li Zhuiyuan’s room now had snacks in full cabinets and drinks stacked by the case.

If he hadn’t put a stop to it, he might’ve been able to open a convenience store like Aunt Zhang.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t care for the milk—it tasted more like saccharin than dairy.

But Ah Li had already filled her first collector’s box with Genlibao cans and had just started a second. She needed new items to display.

The boy and girl each took a bottle and sat in the wicker chairs.

They’d already played chess that morning, so the afternoon was for reading.

Li Zhuiyuan lowered his head toward the empty table and read.

Though his eyes still couldn’t see, he could “read” by recalling everything he had ever memorized aloud. Now was the perfect time to mentally flip back through it all.

Ah Li seemed to know exactly what he was doing and sat close beside him like always.

Every time Li Zhuiyuan turned a “page” in his mind, he would instinctively “look” at her. She, in turn, would look back. Their eyes never actually met, but the moment always felt real.

And so they passed the afternoon until dusk fell.

“Dinner time!” Aunt Liu called.

Li Zhuiyuan stood and stretched lightly. This way of reading was great—no eye strain, no bad lighting.

They went downstairs for dinner.

Liu Yumei said, “Tomorrow morning, Ating and I are taking Ah Li out for a bit.”