Corpse Retriever

They did seem to care for the old woman—afraid she might get lonely.

Her food bowl was set right next to the pig trough. Beside it sat a scoop used for feeding slop to pigs. It looked as if they fed her whenever they fed the pigs.

As long as the pigs had a bite to eat, they wouldn’t forget to leave her half.

She was fully lucid now, not numb. When she saw outsiders approach, she covered her face with both hands—ashamed of her condition.

Li Zhuiyuan had met her grandchildren too—both had bandages, one around the head, the other on an arm. Likely injuries from one of Niu Lian’s episodes.

The kids spat at her while pelting her with pebbles—not in play, but aiming directly at her body.

Their parents saw it and didn’t stop them. On the contrary, their eyes brimmed with loathing.

A black cat stepped out from the edge of the roof above the pigsty.

Li Zhuiyuan said nothing, just walked farther away. Then, behind him, Niu Lian’s voice came pleading again from the pigsty. She begged her children to let her out, claiming her illness had passed.

What met her pleas were curses and a hard round of kicks from her son.Niu Lian curled up in the corner, wailing like a dog.

Clearly, they had believed her once—and been ”tricked.”

The black cat leapt down step by step from the uneven surfaces above, finally landing by Li Zhuiyuan’s feet. It rubbed its face against his pant leg.

Li Zhuiyuan bent down and petted its head.

The black cat relished it, almost collapsing against him, belly up in pleasure.

Great-Grandpa began the ritual. As usual, he accepted an extra red envelope to help divert bad luck to two other households.

On the way back from Niu Lian’s, Runsheng steadied the cart with one arm and counted on the other hand:

“Oldest, second, and third families all paid Grandpa to redirect the misfortune. Doesn’t that cancel each other out?”

Li Zhuiyuan corrected him. “No, Runsheng-ge. It’s not the same.”

“How so?”

“Because Great-Grandpa took three times the money.”

“Oh, right. You’re spot on, Little Yuan!”

Back home, it was dusk and time for dinner. Li Sanjiang finished eating, yawning as he waved his hand. “I’m skipping the movie. Gonna bathe and hit the bed—I’m dead tired.”

The day’s rituals had been intense. Even young folks would collapse after six back-to-back dances, but Great-Grandpa endured it all. His stamina was no joke.

Uncle Qin had set up several stools, and Aunt Liu didn’t even bother clearing the dishes like she usually would. She paused all chores to wait.

Liu Yumei changed into a cheongsam and wore jewelry, even dabbed on rouge.

At her age, makeup wasn’t for vanity—but to show respect.

The movie was screened on an open lot near the town square. Though it hadn’t started, many had already arrived to claim spots.

Uncle Qin and Runsheng muscled their way through, plopped down stools, and carved out some room.

Given their build, no one dared complain aloud. They just quietly scooted their own stools away.

But then Uncle Qin pulled candies from his pocket for the kids and cigarettes for the adults. Grins spread all around, and complaints died down.

Liu Yumei and Aunt Liu sat between them. Despite her age, Liu Yumei still carried herself gracefully. Her silhouette looked out of place among the crowd.

As for Li Zhuiyuan, he sat with Qin Li off in a distant corner. The view wasn’t great, but it was quiet—more suitable for Qin Li.

A few small-time vendors had set up shop behind them, selling cheap snacks and toys. These folks popped up at weddings and funerals alike—anywhere the crowd was.

Some kids were buying treats, others simply watched longingly, offering tips to those lucky enough to afford them.

Li Zhuiyuan felt around in his pocket. Back when he stayed at Li Weihan’s, Cui Guiying would often slip him a bit of pocket money. Though every time, the moment he got it, his siblings would drag him off to Aunt Zhang’s store to buy snacks for everyone.

The day after he was “sent off” to Great-Grandpa’s, Li Weihan and Cui Guiying visited with clothes and slipped him a bigger stash.

Li Sanjiang also gave him money occasionally. And since Li Zhuiyuan didn’t have many expenses, it all added up.

Among the kids, he was quite the rich one.

“Ah Li, wait here for me.”

He walked to a stall and bought two bubble-blowing toys.

When he returned, he gave one to Qin Li and kept one for himself.

As the movie played, they kept blowing bubbles in the back.

Ah Li was delighted. Her first bottle emptied quickly. Knowing her habit of collecting things, Li Zhuiyuan bought her three more.

Then, scanning the three nearby stalls, he picked out a pair of wrist cords.

There were lots of little accessories—ribbon clips, colorful headbands—but he thought of how Grandma Liu dressed Ah Li every morning with such care. Piling on more might spoil the look.

More importantly, if he gave her something, she’d wear it. And he didn’t want to rob Grandma Liu of her joy.

Ah Li stared at the red wrist cord on her wrist—she clearly liked it, enough to stop blowing bubbles.

Then her eyes moved to Li Zhuiyuan’s wrist.

He lifted his arm, revealing a matching blue cord. Only then did she nod and resume blowing bubbles.

When the movie ended, Liu Yumei and the others came out.

Runsheng was all fired up, quoting movie lines and lamenting the lack of wars—he could’ve been a river-crossing scout, he said.

Li Zhuiyuan laughed along. Honestly, Runsheng probably would’ve fit the role, skills and all.

Uncle Qin and Aunt Liu were silent, as if returning from a funeral.

Liu Yumei clutched her handkerchief, wiping away tears as she walked.

Li Zhuiyuan offered a polite word, but seeing she wasn’t up to talking, let it go.

As the group hurried down from the town square, Aunt Zhang from the shop came running up the village path:

“A call for you, Little Yuanhou! A call!”

…

The seminar aboard the ship lasted much longer than expected. The local cadres were doing everything they could to push the project forward. Luo Tingrui, too, was in his element, explaining the technical challenges and highlights to the surrounding officials.

Most of them didn’t understand hydrology or engineering. But that didn’t stop them from being thoroughly engaged.

Because building this bridge wasn’t just about engineering—it had to account for shipping traffic, urban planning, highway integration, even military factors.

Most of all, it had to match the speed of social development. Past lessons had shown: even “bold” early planning often ended up too conservative once the build was done.

At last, as the sky darkened, the seminar wrapped up.

The boat headed back to shore. Everyone pulled out cigarettes and shared them around.

Xue Liangliang didn’t smoke. He stood alone by the railing. Ever since learning the waters below might have been where Bai Family Town once stood, he’d felt uneasy.

Suddenly, he heard something stir beneath the river’s surface.

He looked down. A human figure seemed to flicker beneath the waves.

Just then, a hand clapped his shoulder. He jumped.

It was Luo Tingrui.

“What’s wrong, Liangliang? You’ve seemed spooked this whole time.”

“I’m fine, Director.”

“Not a fan of these kinds of meetings?”

“No, sir. I just haven’t rested well. I know how important they are.”

“Good. If you’re set on this field, you need to adapt. We tech people often look down on administrative work, but without a solid system, nothing gets done. Sometimes the more specialized you are, the more amateur you are elsewhere.”

“I understand, Director.” Xue Liangliang knew he was being given a lesson.

“Come on. We’re docking. Get some rest on the way back—don’t mess up tomorrow’s class.”

“Will do, Director.”

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