Corpse Retriever

Not far off, a familiar voice rang out: “Alright, thanks everyone for sticking with me all day.”

Right after, Li Zhuiyuan heard his great-grandfather talking to that person. “Sir, you really worked hard today.”

“Just doing my job, just doing my job. Cooperation, you know.”

“Please go get some rest.”

“You too, hehe.”

That voice—it was Yu Shu.

“Well now, little guy, what are you doing here too?” Yu Shu had spotted Li Zhuiyuan.

Li Zhuiyuan shot back, “Hey, Storyteller, what brings you here?”

“Not many people came for the noon session, so I packed up early and came out to do a side gig.”

As he spoke, Yu Shu squatted in front of Li Zhuiyuan and reached out to ruffle his hair.“Little one, do you live here?”

Just then, Li Sanjiang walked over, having finished his cigarette, and seeing this scene, said at once, “This is my great-grandson. He’ll own this house one day.”

“Your great-grandson?” Yu Shu looked surprised. “Blood relative?”

“Of course. My will’s all written in his name.”

“Oh, is that so? Bright kid. I like him.”

“Well of course. Our Little Yuanhou’s a smart one.”

“Alright then, Old Li, I’m off. I’ll treat you to a drink next time.”

“Sounds good, sounds good.”

Tan Yunlong stepped forward to Yu Shu and asked, “Anything else planned for tomorrow?”

“Nope. Nothing more to do here. It’s clean. I’ll be off tomorrow. Thanks, Captain Tan.”

“Just following orders.”

Over at the bearded man’s house, the police had dispersed. Li Sanjiang led the two back home, grumbling the whole way about the bizarre day—hauled into the police station in the morning, then dragged around to several places, only to end up back in the village.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. That guy gave him a pack of cigarettes before leaving.

As Li Zhuiyuan listened, he kept mulling over the storyteller’s true identity. Clearly, storytelling was just his side job—and to pull off a side gig like that? That was rare.

But, in any case, if he was working with the police, he couldn’t be a bad guy.

Which meant Li Zhuiyuan didn’t need to worry.

Back home in the courtyard, Runsheng was still folding paper effigies while watching TV.

Li Sanjiang walked over and gave him a playful knock on the head, and Runsheng just chuckled.

Tan Wenbin sat down and, like a pro, picked up a rattan stick and started folding paper too, muttering, “If I’d known, I would’ve brought my workbook with me.”

Li Zhuiyuan was about to head upstairs when his ears twitched. He whispered, “Binbin-ge, quick, go do your homework.”

“Huh?”

He was still making a questioning sound, but his body moved on instinct—dropping what he was doing, flopping sideways into the little desk chair, picking up his pen, and pretending to think.

Soon, Tan Yunlong stepped into the courtyard.

Tan Wenbin’s lips curled into a silent smile at the sound of those familiar footsteps.

But Tan Yunlong walked over and gave the back of his head a smack. “You think you’re fooling ghosts?”

Tan Wenbin looked so wronged. In his head, he was screaming: Dad, I’m studying so hard—why do you doubt me?

Click!

Next second, Tan Yunlong hit the switch, and the desk lamp lit up.

Tan Wenbin: “……”

Runsheng had moved the TV outside so he could work by its light.

Tan Wenbin usually stayed near him to do homework. But since Little Yuan had lent him the desk lamp, he hadn’t turned on the bulb overhead.

Which meant, from his dad’s angle, he’d been doing homework in near-total darkness.

Tan Yunlong dropped a bag beside them—some home remedies his wife had specially gathered.

He’d already vetted them carefully. No toxins.

“Little Yuan, I forgot to give these to you earlier. Try taking some.”

“Okay. Thanks, Uncle Tan. My eyes are almost better. Once they are, I’ll need you to help me enroll in school.”

“Of course. Once your eyes are better, we’ll go. The school said you can start whenever—up to you.”

“Alright. Thanks, Uncle Tan.”

Before leaving, Tan Yunlong paused beside his son, picked up his workbook and flipped through it—dense with calculations and notes.

“Dad, Little Yuan gave me those problems.”

“Hmm. Keep at it.” Tan Yunlong set the book down, patted his son’s head, and left.

Runsheng always watched TV until the station signed off for the night.

When the static test pattern came on, he shut off the set and turned to see Tan Wenbin still working on problems.

“You’re not going to sleep?”

“You go ahead. I’ll work a bit more.”

“Okay.”

Runsheng went off to wash up and sleep.

Next morning, he woke to find the round table next door empty. He turned his head and saw Tan Wenbin slumped over the little desk, fast asleep, pen still in hand.

Runsheng padded over to the puppy’s cage and gave its head a pat.

The little black dog opened one eye, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

“Useless,” Runsheng muttered.

Li Zhuiyuan, once awake, came down only for porridge. The rest of the time, he sat on the second-floor terrace.

He’d been “reading” The Liu Clan’s Art of Observing Qi and The Qin Family’s Guide to Viewing Flood Dragons for several days now.

He figured, with his eyes out of commission, maybe he’d gain new insights into feng shui techniques.

Turns out… he’d been too optimistic.

These days of review had taught him two things: one, those blind fortune-tellers were usually full of it; and two, you really need to protect your eyes.

That night, Li Zhuiyuan waited outside for a long time, but Liu Yumei and the others didn’t return.

When he heard the static hiss of Runsheng-ge’s TV downstairs, he went inside, did an eye exercise routine, and lay down to sleep.

Next morning, he woke up and, by habit, opened his eyes and turned his head.

He saw a girl in a white dress and a flowered hairpin sitting upright, looking very composed.

First thought: she’s still so beautiful.

Then came the next:

Oh, my eyes are better.

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