Corpse Retriever

The boy closed his eyes, sat up, and reached forward with both hands, pretending he still couldn’t see.

Before long, warm fingertips touched the corners of his eyes, then gently pried them open.

The girl’s face was right in front of him. Though the curve of her lips was faint, it was noticeably more pronounced than before.

Clearly, just that brief glimpse when he first woke had told her—he could see again.

Because he was her balcony, and even if the curtains of that balcony opened just a crack, it let in a whole rainbow for her.

Getting out of bed and walking to the basin stand—a short distance in the room—Li Zhuiyuan moved in an awkward same-arm-same-leg gait.

He had to stop, afraid he’d fall if he kept walking like that.

He’d once worried that if his sight ever returned, he wouldn’t adapt well. Now, that fear had come true.

Li Zhuiyuan knew he was a quick learner, which had made him overly reliant on ”memory images” in the recent past.

Now, his senses were clashing with each other.If he closed his eyes, everything went back to normal. But eventually, he’d have to live with his eyes open.

After calming himself, Li Zhuiyuan refused Ah Li’s help, carrying the washbasin in his left hand and steadying himself against the wall with his right.

At the water vat, he set down the basin and looked around. The early morning countryside stretched out like a vast ink painting.

It had been a long time. It was truly beautiful.

Li Zhuiyuan suddenly felt like learning to paint.

Aside from subjects related to “corpse retrieval,” which he lacked confidence in, he felt capable of learning anything else.

Especially with an excellent little tutor in traditional painting by his side.

After washing up, with time still early for breakfast, he played a game of chess with Ah Li as usual.

They still didn’t use a board, just pointed in the air with their fingers. But this time, Ah Li didn’t have to guide his hand anymore.

As they played, he realized he still had mental bandwidth to spare. He couldn’t immerse himself fully.

“Ah Li, how about another game?”

The girl nodded.

Another round began in mid-air.

The previous game had been steady and cautious; this one started out fierce and aggressive.

It felt good. The boy found it fun, and the girl didn’t seem to struggle either.

In the end, though the style had changed, the outcome hadn’t—he lost four games in even quicker succession.

“Breakfast time!”

Aunt Liu’s voice was music to the ears.

Going downstairs, a bowl of congee and a salted duck egg later, Li Zhuiyuan was done eating. He’d come down early, and the others were just starting to stir.

Aunt Liu brought over a bag of apples, saying she’d picked them up along the way.

Li Zhuiyuan picked up a small knife and began peeling apples for everyone.

Tan Wenbin and Runsheng didn’t notice anything strange. They greeted him and sat down to eat.

Li Sanjiang came down, picked up his chopsticks, and then spotted his great-grandson peeling apples—his eyelids twitched in alarm.

Though he’d always admired how his blind great-grandson embraced life with more grace than some blind men ten years older, peeling fruit seemed far too delicate and risky.

“Little Yuanhou, you…”

“Great-Grandpa, my eyes are better. I can see now.”

The simple statement left Li Sanjiang frozen in place.

It was Tan Wenbin and Runsheng who recovered first, immediately crowding over to check. But they’d always believed he’d recover, so their reactions were just warm congratulations after an illness.

Li Sanjiang didn’t move. He just watched Li Zhuiyuan interacting with everyone—now with added eye contact.

He wiped away tears with the back of his hand, bowed his head, and resumed eating congee, each slurp louder and more forceful than the last.

Some people are emotional dams, life’s daily drops accumulating silently until the flood comes.

Li Zhuiyuan passed out the apples and brought a plate to Liu Yumei.

“Your eyes are better?”

“Mm, they are. Grandma, was your trip smooth?”

“Smooth. Just ran into some old friends—couldn’t refuse them, so we had a meal together. Got back late.”

“As long as it was smooth.”

“Watch your eyes,” Liu Yumei said, stretching. “You’re young—abuse your body now and you’ll regret it later.”

“I understand, Grandma.”

Li Zhuiyuan approached Li Sanjiang. “Great-Grandpa, have an apple.”

“Little Yuanhou, I should take you back to the hospital for a check-up.”

“No need, Great-Grandpa. Didn’t the professor in Shanghai say? If it heals, it heals. If it doesn’t, there’s not much to be done. I’ll just rest more from now on.”

“Mm. I remember the professor also said you shouldn’t overthink things. When school starts, don’t stress about grades. Your health comes first. It’s okay if your grades aren’t perfect.”

Tan Wenbin, who was sipping congee beside him, suddenly felt a sting in his cheek.

“Got it, Great-Grandpa. I’ll contact Uncle Tan and have him help me register for school soon.”

“Mm. Officer Tan is a good man.” Li Sanjiang lit a cigarette, then shouted for “Zhuangzhuang” and tossed one over.

“Great-Grandpa, should we let Grandpa and Grandma know before school starts?”

“You think Hanhou and Guiyinghou don’t already know?”

“They do?”

“The day after the household registry change, I went to tell them. Guiyinghou cried her eyes out. Hanhou didn’t cry, but he was deeply upset.”

Li Zhuiyuan realized then that since the household transfer, his grandparents’ visits had dropped drastically. They’d only come once recently, and he’d still been blind then. Fearing they’d worry, he pretended to play a “ghost-hunting” game with his eyes covered.

Now he understood—they stayed away for fear of breaking down in front of him.

“Your grandparents need time too. This hit them hardest. Don’t blame them. They’ve got plenty of grandkids, but you’re their favorite.”

“I know, Great-Grandpa.”

“They tried to give me all the money your mom sent back—to pay for your school and stuff. I scolded them good.

I told them, since you’re registered under me now, I’ll raise you.

It’s not like Hanhou’s losing out. In the end, everything I have will go to his grandson.”

“May you live to a hundred and twenty, Great-Grandpa.”

“Heh, alright. Now that your eyes are fine, once school enrollment’s settled, I’ll call your grandparents over for a meal. You’ll still live with me.”

At that moment, Li Zhuiyuan’s ears twitched. He turned toward the yard entrance and saw Yu Shu—the part-time storyteller—from yesterday.

He remembered Yu Shu saying to Tan Yunlong that he’d be leaving today. He didn’t expect him to show up this early.

Though he was fairly certain the man posed no threat, his presence still made him uneasy—Yu Shu might just dig up things better left buried.

Aunt Liu rose with her congee bowl, walked to the yard steps, looked at the newcomer, and asked:

“Lost your way?”

Yu Shu smiled, pulled out his folding fan, and replied, “Nope. Came here hoping for a bite to eat.”

Aunt Liu said impatiently, “All we have here is simple home-cooked food.”

“Traveling folk like me, we live off home-cooked meals. Who has the right to dine in fancy restaurants every day?”

Hearing the noise, Li Sanjiang stood up with an apple in his mouth. Recognizing the visitor, he chuckled and hurried over. “A rare guest! Come, sit on the dam, sit on the dam.”

Li Sanjiang didn’t know exactly who the man was, but anyone chased around by cops was either a criminal—or someone important.

Yu Shu shook his hand but stayed standing.

At that moment, Liu Yumei, sipping tea on the dam, asked, “Ah Ting, who’s here?”

Yu Shu answered cheerfully, “A storyteller from the rivers and lakes.”

“Then give us a tale.”

“Gladly. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

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