Corpse Retriever

Even so, Tan Wenbin had started to notice something odd—whenever he slept at night or dozed off during lunch breaks in class, he’d experience sleep paralysis.

When he told Little Yuan, Little Yuan said it was a side effect. For a few days after experiencing sleep paralysis, he’d have to suspend his practice of Walking the Shade.

This side effect was something Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t do anything about—or rather, it wasn’t meant to be resolved. It was, after all, part of Walking the Shade itself.

But during the teaching process, Li Zhuiyuan noticed that people with more active and agile minds seemed to master Walking the Shade more easily.

Every so often, Tan Wenbin would come to Li Zhuiyuan to pick up his custom problem sets and then deliver another set to the school.

The “Zhuiyuan Secret Volume” was selling well in Nantong and had even reached outside the city.

Each month brought in a considerable share of profits.

Tan Wenbin had already drafted a new proposal for Li Zhuiyuan.

Starting next semester, instead of problem sets based on individual subjects, they would publish full-length exams.

That was because the second half of the senior year was the final push. Students and teachers had finished reviewing individual topics, and the demand for complete exams had surged.Full-length exams could be categorized by difficulty: foundation papers to build confidence, mock exams at real test difficulty, and enhancement papers for intensive training.

Originally, Tan Wenbin considered suggesting that they pad the full exams—a few quality questions per paper, and the rest filled with throwaway ones. That way, teachers could pick a few questions from each paper to assign.

It would lighten the workload and boost sales.

But after some thought, he gave up the idea. They were still in the stage of building a reputation. Tarnishing the brand now wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t just about this year’s earnings.

If the brand became strong, they could always sell the rights to the “Zhuiyuan Secret Volume.” That would be the real prize.

Tan Wenbin was juggling both school and practice, working nonstop every day. His appetite had grown, but he hadn’t gained weight—in fact, he’d slimmed down a little.

“Little Yuan-ge, finals are coming. Are you taking them?”

“Yes, I’m taking them.”

“Want me to go with you in the morning?”

“No need. I’ll go in the afternoon.”

“But the Chinese and math exams are in the morning.”

“I’ll take them all together when I get there.”

That night, snow began to fall. Before dawn, Tan Wenbin pedaled his bicycle to school through wind and snow.

At noon, just after lunch, Li Zhuiyuan saw Principal Wu pulling up in the school car, stopping at the far end of the fields.

Once inside, Principal Wu grinned and pointed to the passenger seat.

“Little Yuan, there are snacks and drinks in there.”

“I’ve already eaten, Grandpa Principal.”

“Then wait a moment—I’ll drop these off at your place first.”

Principal Wu got out, carrying a large bag of snacks to Li Sanjiang’s home, then returned and restarted the car.

When they reached the school and entered the principal’s office, all the department heads were already waiting.

Li Zhuiyuan sat down and began taking the final exams.

Though two subjects had already been tested that morning, no one suspected the boy of cheating through leaked questions.

When it came time to write the Chinese essay, Li Zhuiyuan pointed to the tape recorder on the principal’s desk.

“Start the English listening section.”

“Huh? Now?”

Principal Wu barked, “He told you to play it, so play it! Who’s the teacher here—you or him?”

“Oh, okay.”

Principal Wu’s phrasing was clumsy, but no one laughed.

The tape clicked on, and the listening section began:

“Excuse me... the shirt costs nine pounds fifteen pence.

So you choose option [B] and mark it on your answer sheet...”

After finishing the essay, Li Zhuiyuan moved on to the physics exam. By the time he finished physics, the listening section had long ended, and he picked up the English paper.

“I’ll play it aga—”

Li Zhuiyuan’s pen flew across the paper, answering the listening questions without hesitation.

The teacher smartly shut up.

Since mastering the Twelve Techniques of the Yin Family, Li Zhuiyuan had found his ability to multitask had grown even stronger.

By the time he finished all the papers, many subjects had already been graded on the spot—with perfect scores.

Principal Wu’s wrinkled face bloomed like a flower as he leaned in to massage the boy’s sore wrists.

“Little Yuan, the national Olympiad is coming up. Is there anything inconvenient for you?”

“I can go.”

“Good, good!”

Just then, the math department head, Teacher Yan, chimed in with a smile, “Let’s go a bit early so Little Yuan can enjoy himself in Beijing.”

Wu Xinhang shot Teacher Yan a glare.

“Have you lost your mind? Little Yuan grew up in Beijing!”

“Oh, right.” Teacher Yan slapped his receding hairline. “I forgot.”

“Grandpa Principal, are we taking the train?”

“The train? That’s exhausting. We’re flying!”

Wu Xinhang and the teachers escorted Li Zhuiyuan all the way to the school gate.

At that moment, an exam had just ended. The senior students were stretching and walking out of the test halls.

Though their exam rooms were on different floors, class monitor Zhou Yunyun just happened to run into Tan Wenbin outside.

“How’d it go?” Zhou Yunyun handed over a White Rabbit candy.

Tan Wenbin took it, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate wrapper. Half the chocolate was already eaten during the test.

Zhou Yunyun didn’t mind and naturally reached out to take it.

But Tan Wenbin popped the rest into his mouth.

“Ah, I’m starving.”

Zhou Yunyun smoothly turned her reaching hand into a gesture to tidy her hair.

Tan Wenbin spotted the boy at the school gate, surrounded by teachers and administrators. He didn’t wave or call out—just smiled and returned to his classroom.

Back at his seat, he placed his little coffin-shaped pencil case on the desk.

He’d taken the exam with that coffin in hand.

Zhou Yunyun sat in Li Zhuiyuan’s seat, opened his pencil bag, and pulled out a slip of paper.

“Want to compare answers?”

Tan Wenbin shook his head. “No need.”

“Worried it’ll mess with your mindset for the next test?”

“No, I think I did well.”

“Can you change that pencil case already?”

“Nope.” Tan Wenbin turned to look at Zhou Yunyun. “You didn’t like how it looked, so why’d you ask for one? And you’re not even using it.”

Zhou Yunyun was speechless. She had asked for one. He gave it to her. But she’d stashed it deep in her drawer, never putting it out.

Partly because the thing was just a little too eerie, and partly because—well, they hadn’t officially become a couple. Sharing coffin pencil cases? What kind of signal would that send?

But if they did become a couple, she… she… she would totally use it.

Truth was, she found herself liking this big boy more and more. At first, she’d just admired his rebellious flair as a model student.

But as his grades improved, his whole aura changed. He still looked lazy and unbothered on the surface, but there was something about his brow, his gaze—it drew people in.

Before, they’d liked each other but kept their distance. Now, Zhou Yunyun was clearly more proactive. She’d even hinted several times they could make it official—but the boy hadn’t responded at all.

Even Zhou Yunyun couldn’t explain what was happening to her.

But really, it was no mystery. They were still high schoolers. Even college students, living in their ivory towers, had a kind of innocence in their eyes.

Tan Wenbin, on the other hand, had faced life-and-death crises more than once. He might look the same, but mentally, he was worlds apart from his classmates.

Precisely because of that, he wouldn’t respond to Zhou Yunyun’s signals. They were young. Better to focus on school and not waste her time.

More importantly, his life right now was like riding a whirlwind. He was swamped—no time for romance.

Teen love? Death was way more interesting.

Even if he hadn’t seen any Dead Sinkers lately, he wasn’t worried. Everything now was preparation—for something bigger down the road.

Principal Wu drove Li Zhuiyuan home. When they reached the courtyard, a voice called from the second floor.

“Little Yuan!”

It was Xue Liangliang.

“Liangliang-ge.”

Xue Liangliang had just showered and changed into fresh clothes.

Li Zhuiyuan figured if he weren’t heading to Jiangxia, he might’ve even sprayed on cologne and styled his hair.

“Little Yuan, the restored bamboo slip is on your desk. Sorry it took so long. But it’s too important to trust anyone else—I had to deliver it myself.”

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