Corpse Retriever

Li Sanjiang instinctively wanted to glance past Li Zhuiyuan’s head, to see what stood behind him—but he stopped himself.

He didn’t need to look. His nose had already caught that familiar stench of rot.

She was really here.

Li Sanjiang swallowed hard. He wanted to end it, to stop—but the consequences of backing out now... Damn it. Why should the Hanhou family pay for someone else’s sins?

“Little Yuanhou, remember what your great-grandfather just told you.”

“Mm.”

Li Sanjiang closed his eyes, raised both hands, and slowly stood. The stench of corpse decay grew stronger.

He turned, opened his eyes, and walked forward several paces. It was the same distance he’d keep when gauging a dead sinker from the boat.

He took a deep breath, then turned back to look behind him.

Little Yuanhou stood cradling the censer. Behind him loomed a patch of darkness the moonlight couldn’t pierce.“Little Yuanhou, stay close.”

“Mm.”

“Mm.”

Li Sanjiang started forward. Behind him, came the soft chime of bells.

He didn’t take the village paths. Instead, he hugged the riverbank and ducked through the grove by the river. Even though it was the dead of night and no one was around, he took every precaution to avoid being seen.

Midway through the journey, Li Sanjiang halted. The bell sounds behind him also stopped.

He looked back. Li Zhuiyuan was still standing there, twenty meters away. But behind the boy, he vaguely saw another figure—pressed in close.

“Little Yuanhou, keep moving. We’re almost there.”

“Mm.”

“Mm.”

Li Sanjiang resumed walking, leading the way. His steps were staggered, stopping and starting, and the bells behind him echoed his rhythm.

Finally, after circling past one more fishpond, they would reach Big Beard’s house. The fishpond was, in fact, his own.

This time, Li Sanjiang didn’t stop. He followed the pond’s edge, but as he walked, he slowly turned his head to glance back:

In the pale moonlight, Li Zhuiyuan still held the censer, looking ahead toward his great-grandfather, then glancing down to mind his footing.

The path was tricky. Easy for a child to slip and fall. He walked carefully, but still couldn’t help stumbling now and then.

Behind him followed a woman in a soaked cheongsam, her long hair dripping wet.

She moved like a blind person, unable to see the road.

And like the blind often do when led, she clutched the boy’s shoulders, her figure swaying in sync with his every step.

Li Sanjiang gulped. Walking backward, he missed a foothold and nearly fell, but after a few shaky steps, he regained his balance.

Li Zhuiyuan saw this and started to stop.

Li Sanjiang quickly called out, flustered, “Little Yuanhou, don’t stop, keep walking, steady now—we’re almost there.”

“Mm.”

“Mm.”

At last, they came to the yard in front of Big Beard’s house.

It was already deep into the night. Big Beard’s house was dark, as were the nearby homes. Not a soul in sight.

Li Sanjiang turned, crouched down, and extended his left hand toward Big Beard’s door and his right toward where Little Yuanhou stood.

He spoke:

“Tonight we feed you. Next year we’ll honor you. That’s the extent of our obligation.

Whether yin or yang, we all must play fair.

If you’ve grievances, go seek vengeance.

If you’ve enmities, go take revenge.

All living souls suffer. Don’t drag others into your fate.”

He finished and snuck a glance toward Li Zhuiyuan. Still the same two figures—one big, one small—standing silently.

“Little Yuanhou, kneel.”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t kneel. Still holding the censer.

“Little Yuanhou?” Li Sanjiang prodded in a hushed tone.

“Great-grandpa... I can’t kneel.”

He tried, but something was pulling him upright—pressure on his shoulders, keeping him from bending.

Li Sanjiang drew a deep breath and began to chant:

“He’s just a child. He doesn’t understand. He owes you nothing.

He brought you here. He showed you the door.

Will you really ignore all reason?”

But still, the two figures stood exactly as before.

Rage sparked in Li Sanjiang’s eyes. He withdrew his outstretched hands—once offering a “bridge”—and dug all ten fingers into the earth. His nails sank deep into the black mud.

“You walk the water’s depths, I float on its surface.

I gave you respect, you showed none.

I tried reason, you scorned it.

Fine. You want a scene?

Let’s flip the damn table and take this to the Dragon King himself!”

The air around him turned solemn. He had always avoided confronting her directly. But now, there was no choice. He couldn’t drag a dead sinker out only to take her home again.

Just then, the creak of a door broke the night. Big Beard’s front gate swung open.

Li Sanjiang looked up. Behind the door stood two people—Big Beard and his youngest son—both shirtless, barefoot, wearing only boxer shorts.

A shiver ran through Li Sanjiang. He had done all this covertly. If caught red-handed, there’d be hell to pay.

But something was off.

The two men didn’t look at him. Their eyes were vacant. They moved in a daze, shuffling toward the fishpond.

As they passed Li Sanjiang, he saw both were walking tiptoe—heels lifted, balancing only on their toes.

Father and son walked side by side, swaying but never falling. When they reached the pond’s edge, they didn’t stop.

They walked right in.

Water rose past their knees. Their waists. Their chests. Their necks. Finally—over their heads.

“Splash!”

Li Zhuiyuan suddenly felt his shoulders lighten. He collapsed onto the ground. Li Sanjiang rushed over to shield him.

“Kiddo, you alright?”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t answer. Just lifted a trembling hand and pointed.

There, ahead of them, stood Little Oriole.

Her arms reached out, hands spread, as if groping in the dark. She walked slowly but surely to the pond, then stepped in.

Sensing the water, she lowered her arms. Her steps grew steadier.

She began to twist her waist—dancing again. The same awkward routine she’d danced yesterday, right here by the pond.

She had never been a good dancer. Now, with her joints stiff, it looked even worse. But she danced with utter devotion.

Her figure flickered in and out of view beneath the moonless sky.

Each time she appeared, the water had risen higher.

Her legs vanished beneath the cheongsam’s slit. Then her hips. Then her chest—strained tight by her soaked dress.

The water reached her neck, spreading her hair like ink.

She raised her arms, face tilted to the sky, still dancing.

Soon, her head dipped below. Only her arms remained. Then just her wrists. Then just her hands...

And then—nothing. Only a patch of dark waterweed where she’d been.

With the last ripple, all was still.

Li Sanjiang slung Li Zhuiyuan onto his back and jogged off, hunched and panting. Only after putting some distance behind them did he set the boy down, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and thumping his aching waist.

Seeing the child still dazed, he tried to comfort him:

“Listen to your great-grandfather. Just pretend it was a dream.

By morning, you’ll have forgotten everything.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded obediently. But deep down, he knew that scene was burned into his memory. Unforgettable.

Flicking the ash from his smoke, Li Sanjiang noticed the boy was still gloomy.

He teased him:

“Little Yuanhou, think about something fun.”

“Something fun?”

Li Sanjiang pointed toward Big Beard’s house with his cigarette.

“A feast!”

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