Corpse Retriever

Li Zhuiyuan knew this was probably the last lesson.

Following Uncle Qin’s past instructions, he lowered into a horse stance and began regulating his breath, quickly entering a focused state.

Uncle Qin’s hands moved steadily over Li Zhuiyuan’s muscles and joints, adjusting the force in every part of his body with precision.

After a while, Uncle Qin said, “Alright.”

Li Zhuiyuan stood up. He didn’t feel tired—on the contrary, he felt light and relaxed. Lately, after long reading sessions, he had even started replacing morning calisthenics with horse stance practice.

“Keep training. Don’t let it go.”

“I’ll remember, Uncle Qin.”

“Mm.” Uncle Qin went downstairs.

Li Zhuiyuan felt a twinge of regret. Uncle Qin knew so much, and all he had really learned was how to hold a horse stance.

Still, there was some consolation. In Wei Zhengdao’s Demon Subjugation Manual: Volume II, there was a section on how to fight with a Dead Sinker. He could practice that.Back in his room, he turned on the desk lamp but didn’t jump straight to the second volume. After all, he was still just a kid. Before close combat, it made sense to study equipment usage first.

He opened Volume I and began reading from Chapter One.

From that point on, Li Zhuiyuan cleared his mind of distractions and immersed himself in studying—how to properly raise a Pure Yang Black Dog.

…

At dawn, Li Zhuiyuan woke and turned his head to look at Ah Li sitting in a chair. She wasn’t wearing a dress today but a snug white-and-green outfit.

Give her a sword, and she’d look like a child heroine straight out of a wuxia drama.

Li Zhuiyuan smiled. Looks like Granny Liu had changed her fashion preferences again, and Ah Li followed suit.

“Good morning.”

He walked up and greeted her, his eyes instinctively drawn to her belt. It glinted with silver and was intricately carved.

Wait a second...

Li Zhuiyuan reached out and touched it. Ah Li didn’t dodge or blush, simply stood there calmly.

Feeling the texture under his fingertips, he was stunned to realize it was a soft sword!

He couldn’t help but marvel at how far Liu Yumei would go for perfection.

Maybe Ah Li’s own obsessive tendencies were inherited from her.

Seeing his interest, Ah Li reached for her belt, about to unfasten it to show him.

“No, no, no, don’t take it off.” Li Zhuiyuan quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “It looks great.”

Ah Li’s eyelashes fluttered—not in anger, but with joy.

Li Zhuiyuan was surprised. This was the first time she’d ever expressed an emotion other than her usual outbursts.

She really was changing.

At breakfast, Uncle Qin slung a travel pack over his shoulder and said his goodbyes before heading down the dam.

Everyone kept their composure—except Li Sanjiang.

He seemed the most reluctant to see Qin Li go, and not just because he was losing a hardworking, low-paid helper. People grow attached over time.

After the meal, Li Zhuiyuan approached Aunt Liu with a list and some cash.

“Aunt Liu, you’re going to the town market today, right? Can you help me buy these?”

“Sure, not a problem.” Aunt Liu glanced at the list, her eyes first widening in surprise, then narrowing in doubt. “Little Yuan, what are you buying all this for?”

“School assigned a summer extracurricular project. These are the materials I need.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but it didn’t matter. He just needed an excuse.

“Alright, I’ll get them all for you.”

“Thanks, Auntie.”

He trusted Aunt Liu to handle it—no need to micromanage. She was probably more knowledgeable than he was anyway.

That morning, Li Zhuiyuan continued reading. The book was pretty simple—its real challenge was the hands-on practice. Without that, the upper volume felt more like a DIY craft manual.

He also realized that many of the items it described were things his great-grandfather had, too.

Every time the old man went corpse retrieving or sat vigil, he brought a bunch of tools. But on closer comparison, those tools only looked similar or shared names. They weren’t the real deal.

Li Zhuiyuan wondered: had his great-grandfather really made it this far with a set of fakes?

Still, these tools were tricky to handle. Some needed to be sketched out in detail based on the book’s descriptions before being crafted by carpenters or blacksmiths.

The village had carpenters—but where could he find a blacksmith now?

The “ding-ding-dang” forges the book mentioned didn’t exist anymore. Maybe he could find a factory and get a machinist to turn the parts instead?

In the afternoon, Runsheng had to deliver tables, chairs, and dishes to the Zhao family. He didn’t know the way, so Li Zhuiyuan tagged along.

The Zhao family lived just east of Shijia Bridge, not far from where Li Zhuiyuan had waited for the bus the night before.

Runsheng pushed the large cart up to their courtyard and helped unload.

The Spirit Hall was already set up. In the central room lay the deceased—very young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, not much older than Panzi.

Two old women nearby whispered:

“Such a good boy… and now he’s gone.”

“They say he tripped into a field on his way back from the opera last night and never got up.”

“Zheng Datong said it was sudden heart failure, didn’t he?”

“Such a shame. The Zhao family may be well-off from their little business, but they only had the one son.”

As someone began preparing the body for viewing, the white cloth was pulled back.

Li Zhuiyuan saw the sunken eye sockets, slack brows, smooth philtrum, and thin lips.

In physiognomy, this was known as “shallow fortune pool, leaking bottom basin.”

A bad sign. It meant a person was born with little fortune, and what little they had would slip away.

With restraint and a pure heart, someone with this face could still lead a peaceful life. But if they indulged—too much food, drink, and pleasure—it could drain them completely.

Judging by what the old ladies said, the Zhao family lived far better than most. That kind of lifestyle didn’t suit someone with a face like his.

After unloading, Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng headed home.

They ran into Panzi and Leizi, walking side by side. Their hair was slicked back with either water or gel, parted clean down the middle and shining in the sunlight.

“Hey, Yuanzi, we were just going to your great-grandpa’s to find you! Didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“Panzi-ge, Leizi-ge.”

Panzi grabbed his hand. “Come on, Yuanzi. We’re taking you to the video hall in town. They’re showing A Better Tomorrow this afternoon!”

Leizi mimed firing guns with both hands: “Bang bang bang!”

“I wanna go too!” Runsheng chimed in.

Li Zhuiyuan hesitated—he wanted to read more. “I’ll go back and get money to treat you guys, but I’m not going. I’ve still got homework.”

He’d given all his cash to Aunt Liu that morning; the rest was in his room.

“No way, you’re not paying again,” Panzi said. “We’ve got some pride, y’know? It’s not like we’re always mooching off our little bro. We were just broke before.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got money now. Worked all day yesterday at the kiln in West Village.”

They each pulled out coins from their pockets, counted them, and even included Runsheng in the tally.

Panzi grinned. “Perfect—four tickets and four sodas!”

Runsheng was overjoyed. “I’ll push the cart back first!”

Seeing how excited they were—and that they’d earned the money just to treat him—Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t refuse.

But before heading out, he stopped by his room to grab some cash and told Ah Li where he was going.

The four of them eventually arrived at a small video hall with a plain sign overhead:

Sister Mei’s Video Hall.

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