Corpse Retriever

Li Sanjiang sighed. “Divorced is one thing, but you even changed the kid’s surname back. If he kept your surname, then even divorced, Little Yuanhou would still count as their child.”

“Little Yuanhou, listen to your great-grandpa. When you get back to Beijing, try to spend more time with your paternal grandparents, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Be good now. Great-grandpa won’t lead you astray.”

“I really can’t. If I go, Mom will be upset.”

“You—”

“If Mom gets upset, she won’t want me anymore.”

“Ah… you silly child. No matter what, she’s your mother. She’ll always love you.”

“She won’t,” Li Zhuiyuan said softly, but with certainty. “If she’s unhappy, she won’t want me. I know her.”

Li Sanjiang had no choice but to change the subject. “Little Yuanhou, did you bring your homework with you? I’ll have your grandma bring it back tomorrow if you forgot.”“I didn’t bring it.”

“Hah, you little rascal. You left your books on purpose so you could spend the whole summer playing in the countryside, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m going to have fun.”

“But you still have to study hard. That’s the only way you’ll live a better life. After a few days, I’ll have your cousin Yinghou help tutor you. Learn well from her.”

“Okay.”

“That’s my good boy.”

Grandfather and grandson chatted as they walked along a riverbank. Farmland flanked the water, and as they followed a narrow riverside path, it suddenly opened up.

The yard at Li Sanjiang’s house was several times bigger than Li Weihan’s.

There were three buildings. The middle one, newly built and facing south, had two stories. Unlike Cuicui’s house with its square, modern style, Li Weihan’s new home stretched wide from east to west like a long strip.

Despite being two stories, the upper level only had a few rooms, like scattered building blocks atop a giant platform.

On either side of the main house were two one-story homes facing each other.

“Great-grandpa, your house is huge.”

“Of course,” Li Sanjiang said with pride.

Besides retrieving corpses, he also made a living crafting paper offerings, which required plenty of space to store materials and finished goods. On top of that, he rented out tables, chairs, and dishes.

Anyone nearby who had a wedding or funeral needed to rent from him. The fees weren’t high, but since he’d already made back the cost long ago, it was now just steady profit—like a hen laying golden eggs.

So the first floor of his new house was essentially a giant warehouse. The second floor only had three rooms and was so empty it felt like a rooftop terrace. He didn’t mind—he lived alone, and it was enough.

Li Sanjiang let Li Zhuiyuan down from his back and led him inside the middle building. From the inside, the place looked even bigger, like a small factory floor.

The western side was stacked with tables and chairs. Large baskets were brimming with dishes and bowls.

The eastern side was crowded with paper effigies: people, houses, horses… Li Zhuiyuan even spotted a paper Santana sedan.

A plainly dressed woman, about the same age as his mother, was painting. Palette in her left hand, brush in her right, her strokes were swift and smooth.

She noticed them and turned around, eyes landing on Li Zhuiyuan.

“Uncle, who’s this? Such a fair little thing.”

“Tinghou, let me introduce you. This is my great-grandson, Li Zhuiyuan. Zhuiyuan, this is your Auntie Tinghou.”

“Auntie Ting.”

Li Zhuiyuan thought the generational title felt a bit off, but when it came to unrelated people, formalities were flexible.

“Aw, how sweet.” Liu Manting put down her tools, crouched, and gently touched his face. “What a cutie.”

Li Zhuiyuan took a small step back, smiling shyly.

“Uncle, you never brought kids around before.”

“Ha! That’s because no kid ever dared come here before.” Li Sanjiang pulled out a cigarette. “Tinghou, this little one’s staying with me for a while. Help him tidy up a room upstairs. Oh, right—Little Yuanhou, are you scared to sleep in a room by yourself?”

“Not at all, Great-grandpa.”

“Good, no worries then. I’m just next door. Heh. Alright, Tinghou, I’ll leave him to you. I’m off to the loo.”

Li Sanjiang lit a cigarette and strolled out.

“Come on, Little Yuan, let’s head upstairs.”

The ground floor was crammed with stuff—even the staircase was half-blocked. First-time visitors would have a hard time finding it.

Li Zhuiyuan noticed the stairs actually continued down. “Auntie Ting, there’s a level below?”

“Yes, a basement, about the same size as this.”

“Is it filled with the same stuff?”

“No, those are all your great-grandpa’s personal things. He couldn’t bear to throw them away, so he dug out a whole level just to store them.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Also, Little Yuan, you can call me Aunt Liu from now on. My full name’s Liu Manting.”

“You’re not from around here, Aunt Liu?”

“Nope. I’m from out of town, working as a paper-folding assistant for your great-grandpa.”

“Is it just you?”

“My husband’s here too. He rents and farms your great-grandpa’s land and helps with deliveries—paper goods, tables, chairs. He should be back from the fields soon. When you see him, you can call him Uncle Qin.

“My daughter and mother-in-law live here too—in that eastern flat you passed earlier. Your uncle and I live in the western one.

“Our whole family works for your great-grandpa, making a living this way.

“If it were before Liberation, we’d have to call you Young Master.”

Having just heard about the corpse retrieval team on the way here, Li Zhuiyuan found the joke unsettling. He shook his head instinctively.

“That’s feudal nonsense.”

“Huh?” Liu Manting was startled. Hearing such a phrase from a kid was surprising.

“Aunt Liu, just call me Little Yuan.”

“Alright, Little Yuan. Your great-grandpa told me about you. You came back from Beijing, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you getting used to living here?”

“Yes, it’s nice.”

“Not too boring?”

“No, there’s lots of fun stuff.”

“That’s good. Auntie’s hands are numb from painting paper figurines every day.”

“You paint really well. Very professional.”

“Professional? I’m just winging it. Got pushed into this—never actually studied art.”

But the way you hold your palette and brush is exactly like my art school teacher.

“If you want to paint, you can help me. Coloring’s actually pretty easy.”

“Sure!”

Since returning to his ancestral home, this was his first full conversation in Mandarin—no Southern dialects, no string of “hou” titles.

Even his school-going cousins only spoke Mandarin when translating for him. The moment they turned to talk amongst themselves, it slipped right back to dialect.

Upstairs, Liu Manting opened a room. It was sparsely furnished: an old-style bed, a wardrobe, not even a chair. But it was very clean—clearly well maintained.

“Little Yuan, this is your room. Your great-grandpa sleeps next door. Sit tight while I fetch you a basin, a cloth, and a spittoon.”

“Thank you, Aunt Liu.”

“What a polite child.”

Liu Manting stepped out. Li Zhuiyuan glanced around and stepped out too. There wasn’t much to look at.

The second floor was like a big open terrace. Three clotheslines stood in the middle. There was no balcony or railing.

He walked to the edge. From here, he could see the yard, and farther out, the little river and farmland.

Li Zhuiyuan thought this would be a nice spot for a chair—perfect for spacing out.

Down on the field path, a tall man was walking toward the house with a hoe over his shoulder. His white tank top couldn’t hide his defined muscles, which gleamed in the sunset.

That must be Uncle Qin, Aunt Liu’s husband.

He probably wasn’t a farmer originally.

Farmers are generally strong, but due to diet and lifestyle, they rarely build those broad-shouldered muscles. More often, they’re wiry.

His gaze drifted left.

“Huh?”

When he first arrived, the woodpile had blocked his view, so he hadn’t noticed the door to the eastern flat. From up here, he could see it.

A girl, about his age, was sitting inside the doorway.

She wore a red embroidered top, black pants with white patterns, her hair in a swirl, and soft green embroidered shoes.

Her outfit was old-fashioned but not at all outdated.

This wasn’t something her mother had whipped up from leftover cloth. The details were intricate and clearly took time and care. The whole ensemble exuded the grace of a young noblewoman.

Most striking of all was her face—fair skin, crescent brows, a melon-seed face softened by just a touch of baby fat. She looked like a carved figurine—flawless and sacred, as if changing anything would be a violation.

She sat on a stool just inside the threshold, feet resting on the doorstep.

The last defiant ray of sunset cast a beam of light across the entrance—right where her feet lay.

Li Zhuiyuan quickly lowered his head. Staring like that was impolite.

Even if… she really was that beautiful.

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