Corpse Retriever

”Xiaoyuan-ge, Runsheng, our seats are here. Hey, it’s a soft sleeper! Liang-ge really splurged!”

Xue Liangliang grinned at Tan Wenbin. ”It’s not Spring Festival travel season. Soft sleepers aren’t that hard to get.”

The compartment had four bunks—two up, two down—just enough for all of them.

Once the train pulled out of the station, Li Zhuiyuan clambered into the upper bunk. Across from him, also on the top, was Xue Liangliang, while Runsheng and Tan Wenbin took the lower bunks.

Tan Wenbin had already pulled out his workbook and was scribbling away on the little fold-out table.

”Hey, you’re doing homework already?” Xue Liangliang teased. ”So studious. You’re wasting your talents on Haihe University—should’ve aimed for one of the top schools in the capital.”

Tan Wenbin replied honestly, ”My foundations are weak. I wasted too much time. If I can get into Haihe, I’ll be thanking my lucky stars.”

”Need incense?” Runsheng offered him a stubby stick.

”Runsheng, if you’re going to smoke, do it at the connection between cars,” Xue Liangliang reminded him.

”Got it.”Runsheng tucked the incense into a tin case. It was custom-made by Aunt Liu—short and thick, with a layer of cardboard wrapping it.

He stepped out to the train car junction. Two others were already there, smoking. Runsheng sidled up, pulled out a fire piston, twisted off the cap, and gave it a blow.

That, too, was made by Aunt Liu. After all, short fat incense sticks were tough to light with matches.

Once lit, he took a deep puff. The rich aroma wafted through the air, most of it sucked away through the gap in the train door.

The two men nearby glanced over, curious.

”Bro, what’s he smoking?”

”You don’t know? Seen it in the movies—cigars.”

After finishing his incense, Runsheng headed back. Along the corridor, he spotted a white-haired old woman in black and a little girl in red sitting on a folding seat.

”Grandma, I’m hungry.”

The old woman sighed, wiping tears from the back of her hand.

Runsheng fished a few candies from his pocket and handed them to the girl.

”Thank you, big brother!” She beamed.

Back in the soft sleeper, Runsheng lay down and napped.

When he woke, he was hungry. So were the others. He brought out food from home: dry rations, cured meat, and a bottle of liquor.

The liquor was courtesy of Li Sanjiang—said watching the world blur past with a drink in hand had a poetic feel.

None of the young men drank.

After the meal, Tan Wenbin dove straight back into his studies, undeterred.

Li Zhuiyuan and Xue Liangliang chatted by the window, watching scenery blur by. Most of the time, Xue Liangliang talked and Li Zhuiyuan listened. It felt like a dorm room late-night chat.

From rural architecture to regional living standards and development policies, Xue Liangliang, who mainly studied hydraulic engineering and construction, still knew a fair bit about other fields—not expert-level, but impressive given how scarce reliable information was in those days.

As dusk fell and the view outside faded, only the conductor’s station announcements told them where they were.

Xue Liangliang climbed down and said he’d go buy boxed meals.

On his way, he passed the same black-clad granny and red-dressed girl.

”Grandma, I’m so hungry.”

He continued to the dining car, bought ten meat-included meals, and carried them back in a big bag. As he passed the girl, he handed her one.

”Thank you, big brother.”

Xue Liangliang smiled and returned to the sleeper, handing out meals.

He and Xiaoyuan took one each, Tan Wenbin devoured three, and Runsheng ate four.

Li Zhuiyuan thought the white plastic containers had a surprisingly delicious aroma—especially the gluten braised with pork. Delightful.

After three boxes, Tan Wenbin loosened his belt, belly bulging, then grabbed his workbook to ”digest with study.”

Runsheng, though still not satisfied after four meals, had brought extra snacks and pickled sauce from home to supplement.

After dinner, the late-night tea chat resumed. Daytime had been grounded realism and future outlooks; nighttime turned to history and interpretation.

This time, Li Zhuiyuan could join in, though he mostly filled in names and places when Xue Liangliang asked, ”What was his name again?” or ”Where was that battle?”

Xue Liangliang appreciated the backup.

They didn’t sleep until deep into the night.

In the morning, Runsheng fetched water for everyone’s wash-up. Tan Wenbin finished first. As the train paused at a station, he went to buy breakfast.

He passed the granny and granddaughter again. The girl cried hunger; the old woman wept.

On his way back, Tan Wenbin handed them a few buns and a bag of soy milk.

Back in the car, he tore open the soy milk pouch and poured it into cups for the others.

After breakfast, Xue Liangliang pulled out design blueprints. Curious, Li Zhuiyuan came over to his bunk, and they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, poring over the papers.

To Xue Liangliang’s surprise, Xiaoyuan could read the annotations and figures. So he started explaining some technical details.

As lunchtime neared, a train attendant hawked roasted sweet potatoes. Li Zhuiyuan went to the corridor and bought a bag.

The attendant wasn’t the seller—she just called out, and someone from the platform came to collect money and hand over goods.

As he returned, he passed a blank-faced old woman sitting by the wall. At her feet was a cloth-wrapped urn—looked like a cremation jar.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t pause and went back inside.

Runsheng, munching on a sweet potato, winced. ”How could they charge this much?”

He even licked the inner skin, not wasting a scrap.

Around one in the afternoon, the train stopped again, this time at a small county called Mishui. The loudspeaker announced that a landslide ahead had blocked the tracks. The train wouldn’t be moving soon.

Passengers could wait onboard or disembark and get a partial refund.

After confirming the landslide’s exact location with the conductor, Xue Liangliang estimated it would take a day or two to clear. He decided they’d get off.

They found a small restaurant outside the station. The sweet potatoes had long since worn off; everyone was hungry again.

A slogan on the restaurant’s wall read: ”Kill bandits and road bullies, no guilt, with reward!”

While they ate, a lone diner nearby overheard Runsheng’s accent and struck up a conversation in Nantong dialect—turned out he was a fellow townsman.

His name was Zhu Yang, a truck driver. When he learned the boys were heading to Shancheng, he warmly invited them to ride with him.

Same hometown, real cargo in the back (steel cables), and most importantly—he was straightforward:

”No fare. Just ride along. Safer with company.”

After eating, Xue Liangliang paid Zhu’s tab too, then bought drinks and cigarettes for him.

They all climbed aboard.

The truck had a modified cab; behind it was a flat board where the driver could nap.

Cramped, but they managed.

Tan Wenbin couldn’t do exercises anymore, so he pulled out his English vocabulary book and started reciting words.

Runsheng looked at the trucker with admiration. ”Must be nice—making money while seeing the world.”

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