Corpse Retriever

Her position was meant for channeling between yin and yang—communicating between the dead and the living.

Grandpa Shan had spread out a tattered straw mat in the northwest corner, squatting there with his water-pipe, puffing away without pause.

Li Zhuiyuan recalled what he’d read in the books: using the offering table as the origin point, Grandpa Shan’s spot was precisely the Breaking Sha Mouth. If any evil wind or foul yin aura wanted to enter, it had to pass right through there.

Lu Runsheng wasn’t resting either, pacing back and forth while spinning the soul-banner. It was real physical work—you had to keep the banner spinning, but without letting it topple.

His own great-grandfather, on the other hand, sat beneath the canopy sipping tea. Li Zhuiyuan felt his own knowledge was too shallow—he couldn’t tell what directional position his great-grandfather held.

But… it had to be something important.

Lunch had been eaten long ago. By the time the afternoon session began, the performers from the Xue’s Funeral Troupe had all changed into monk’s robes. They started chanting scriptures and knocking wooden fish, playing the role of monks.

A few of the balding ones actually looked quite convincing.

Lu Runsheng brought over bowls and chopsticks from the back kitchen. He was hungry. While others had afternoon tea, he’d have afternoon rice if the conditions allowed.

He even considerately invited Li Zhuiyuan to join him. Li Zhuiyuan didn’t stand on ceremony—he accepted a bowl and started scooping food.As for Uncle Qin, they had called him too, but he didn’t eat.

Since arriving, Uncle Qin had been standing at the edge of the canopy, barely moving.

While waiting for the incense to burn down, Lu Runsheng stuck some sticks into the food and said to Li Zhuiyuan, “I told my grandpa you’ve been reading those books. He said you’re a lot smarter than me and told me to talk with you more.”

Unlike Li Sanjiang’s unwavering belief that his great-grandson must go to college in Beijing, Grandpa Shan had seen right away that Li Zhuiyuan was prime material for a Corpse Retriever.

“Sure, come hang out with me anytime.”

To Li Zhuiyuan, Lu Runsheng was the perfect bridge between theory and practice.

“Really? That’s great. You have no idea—my grandpa’s health is bad, needs meds all the time, and our family’s already scraping by. Plus I eat like a horse, sigh.

Coming to your house, I can eat my fill and ease my grandpa’s burden. When there’s work, I’ll head back to help him retrieve corpses. Won’t miss a beat.”

“You want to stay long-term?”

“Yeah, can’t I?” Lu Runsheng scratched his head.

“That’s up to my great-grandfather.”

“Then I’ll ask my grandpa to talk to your great-grandpa. He says once he’s gone, I’ll work for your great-grandpa.”

“Mhm.” Li Zhuiyuan nodded. His great-grandfather was getting on in years—having Lu Runsheng as a successor wouldn’t be bad.

After all, being a Corpse Retriever was his true calling, his core identity. All the other family businesses flowed from that.

The incense burned out. Lu Runsheng eagerly mixed the ashes into his food with his chopsticks and began wolfing it down.

Li Zhuiyuan asked curiously, “You really can’t eat without incense?”

“Nope,” Lu Runsheng replied between mouthfuls. “Tastes like nothing otherwise. Even makes me gag.”

“Have you ever…” Li Zhuiyuan hesitated, then asked, “eaten a Dead Sinker?”

Lu Runsheng froze, then lowered his voice quickly.

“Grandpa warned me—never talk about that outside.”

“Then you’d better remember that well.”

“Of course. I always keep it in mind.”

Li Zhuiyuan soon finished eating. Watching Lu Runsheng continue stuffing his face, he thought it was a shame the guy hadn’t come a couple days earlier—he could’ve had a whole table to himself at Granny Niu’s paper effigy birthday banquet.

The afternoon wore on. As dusk neared, everyone began packing up. Some took flags, some took soul-banners, others gathered scriptures, blankets, and pillows.

They formed a long procession, walking along the narrow field paths toward Granny Niu’s grave.

Two people at the end of the line kept lighting two-stage firecrackers—relaxed and playful, they’d light one and toss it into the fields, letting it blast off.

Li Zhuiyuan helped Lu Runsheng carry a flag. As for Uncle Qin, he didn’t walk with them, but trailed the group from about a hundred meters away.

Granny Niu’s grave was small. Though cremation had long been enforced in the cities and burials strictly regulated, rural burials were still common. That said, the days of extravagant graves with cemented tombs were mostly gone.

Instead, they were replaced with little house-like tombs. Older ones were two stories tall with red bricks and green tiles, some even had three stories or formed a courtyard layout.

Anyone unfamiliar stumbling into this graveyard might think they’d wandered into a rural architecture exhibit.

Granny Niu’s grave, though, was just a mound—a “dirt hat” dug out of the nearby soil with a shovel.

During the grave visit, Niu Fu, as the eldest, removed the dirt hat. Niu Rui then dug a new one with a shovel. After the rites, Niu Lian placed the new hat atop the grave.

They lit incense, burned spirit money and the Sutra of Golden Thread and Silken Spiral—everything carried out under Liu Jinxia’s steady direction.

When it was all over, the new dirt hat in place, everyone left. Nothing went wrong.

But Li Zhuiyuan noticed Liu Jinxia didn’t look relieved. According to tradition, the Deathday Rite had to be carried into the late night. There used to be the time divisions like zi, chou, yin, and mao—now it was all simplified to midnight.

Only after midnight was the rite complete—a kind of vigil. Though the corpse was long buried, not laid out here.

Daytime was easy enough. But come nightfall—what might happen then, no one could say.

After dinner, the few villagers who had reluctantly come to help took their leave. The families of the three Niu siblings also returned home. They were supposed to stay and keep vigil, but had been forced away by the siblings.

Once the Xue’s Funeral Troupe packed up and left, the spirit hall became eerily empty.

The three Niu siblings still knelt on their mats, no longer wailing, just silently burning more paper.

Niu Lian had lost her voice. Without her verses, Niu Fu and Niu Rui had no lyrics to echo, so they stayed quiet.

Liu Jinxia still sat in her usual spot, visibly uneasy.

Grandpa Shan was still in the Breaking Sha position. His tobacco gone, he now smoked factory cigarettes from the host family.

As for his own great-grandfather… Li Zhuiyuan saw that he had nodded off against the railing, snoring softly, his body rising and falling with each breath.

Lu Runsheng had somehow found a deck of cards. “Let’s play landlord,” he said cheerfully.

“Don’t we need four?”

“Then go ask him,” Lu Runsheng pointed at Uncle Qin.

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. He knew Uncle Qin wouldn’t come. Truth be told, he was grateful. Uncle Qin might not be helpful in practical matters, but just having him there made him feel safe.

So Li Zhuiyuan and Lu Runsheng started playing a three-person version of landlord.

Just one deck, split three ways—easy to track the cards.

Lu Runsheng wasn’t good, and the imaginary third player wasn’t much better. So whether he played farmer or landlord, Li Zhuiyuan kept winning.

Time slipped by. At some point, Li Zhuiyuan asked, “What time is it?”

Lu Runsheng shook his head. “No idea. We don’t have a watch.”

The third player said, “Eleven o’clock.”

Li Zhuiyuan: “Almost done, just one more hour.”

Lu Runsheng: “Yeah. Wonder if the host family will give us another meal afterward.”

Third player: “They should. They made a lot of food, and not many people came.”

Li Zhuiyuan drew another winning hand as landlord. The game lost its appeal.

But just as he was about to play, he glanced over at where Uncle Qin had been—and suddenly realized he was gone.

His one anchor had vanished. A shiver ran through him, jolting his mind awake. Holding the cards, he froze.

Lu Runsheng said, “What’s up, Little Yuan? Play your card.”

Third player: “Yeah, play already. We know you’ve got a good hand.”

Li Zhuiyuan played a single joker.

Lu Runsheng’s eyes widened. “What kind of move is that?”

Third player: “Got too good a hand? Gonna lay it all out now?”

Li Zhuiyuan asked, “Can I lay it all out?”

Lu Runsheng said, “If you want to, go ahead. Not much we can do when your hand’s this good.”

Third player: “Better think it through. Playing open hands makes it easy to get sunk.”

“I’ll think about it.” Li Zhuiyuan clutched his cards, glancing from the corner of his eye at his dozing great-grandfather, the kneeling Niu siblings, Liu Jinxia, and Grandpa Shan.

The scene that had seemed so normal just moments ago now filled him with a sudden sense of dread. He could hear the sounds around him—but none of them were moving.

Even his great-grandfather’s snores didn’t match his body’s rhythm—it was like the snoring came out of nowhere.

“Runsheng-ge?”

“What? Decided yet? Gonna lay it out?”

Li Zhuiyuan gave a small nod. Lu Runsheng seemed normal. Which meant—he had to lay it out. This odd bunch of elderly and weak people—Lu Runsheng was the only one he could count on.

If he wasn’t real, what could the rest of them possibly do?

“Laying it out!” Li Zhuiyuan spread his cards on the table.

Lu Runsheng looked puzzled. “Huh, your hand isn’t even that great. I thought you had bombs or something.”

“Play. Joker. You want it?”

Third player: “Go ahead.”

Lu Runsheng: “Pass.”

Li Zhuiyuan: “Three sevens and a five.”

Third player: “I’ll take it.”

Li Zhuiyuan: “Three tens and a seven.”

Lu Runsheng: “Little Yuan, hold on. I want that one.”

Li Zhuiyuan slammed the table and shouted at him:

“Open your eyes, Runsheng—how can we be playing a three-person game when there are only two of us?!”

Lu Runsheng was stunned. He instinctively tried to argue, but then turned to look left and right—and suddenly snapped awake.

“Right! There’s just the two of us! How the hell are we playing three-person landlord?”

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