Corpse Retriever

Lunch was lavish.

It had originally been prepared for guests, but the guests had left.

Still, for most of the small tables, it just meant more variety, not more quantity—except for Runsheng’s table, where one large basin had become two.

Li Sanjiang noticed and couldn’t help scolding, “Damn it, why don’t you just eat out of a washbasin!”

Runsheng asked cheerfully, “Can I?”

Li Sanjiang rolled his eyes so hard they nearly flipped over.

Only then did Runsheng realize he’d misunderstood, grinning sheepishly. He clasped incense in his left hand and a spoon in his right, alternating between them as he dug in.

Li Zhuiyuan stared at the drunken shrimp in front of him—shrimp soaked in baijiu and paired with scallion, ginger, and garlic to mask the fishiness.

He picked one up, popped it in his mouth, and gave it a gentle suck; the flesh slipped out, fresh and flavorful.

He followed it with a drunken mud snail, biting the tip and slowly pushing it out with his teeth until the meat separated from the shell. The meat was small and crisp.This had to be eaten carefully. Rush it, and you’d end up with a mouthful of sand.

In coastal regions, eating raw-pickled dishes like these was a beloved tradition. For those used to it, it was an irresistible delicacy.

But for most inland folk, it was downright horrifying.

And they weren’t wrong—raw pickling did carry a high risk of parasites.

After a few cautious bites, Li Zhuiyuan noticed that Ah Li hadn’t touched either dish and seemed disinterested. He stood up and brought the plates over to Li Sanjiang, thinking they’d go well with his wine.

“Give them to me,” said Liu Yumei.

So Li Zhuiyuan brought the drunken shrimp and mud snails to the table Liu Yumei shared with Aunt Liu.

“Not your taste?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good stuff, wasted on you.”

Liu Yumei popped two mud snails into her mouth and sipped her huangjiu.

Aunt Liu smiled. “Ah Li’s not into this stuff either.”

“She just thinks it’s too much hassle,” Liu Yumei replied.

Then she asked Li Zhuiyuan, “Those people who came this morning—what were they here for?”

“To buy a house. They liked the one owned by Big Beard.”

“Oh? How’s that house?”

“It’s roomy. The fish pond’s nice too. They’re eager to sell, so the price is low. Grandma, do you want to go take a look?”

“What for? I don’t have the money to buy.”

“You don’t have to buy it—just looking is fine.”

“If I look and can’t afford it, I’ll only feel worse when I go to bed. Better not. Besides, I’m not from this village. By the rules, I can’t buy property here.”

“Rules are rules,” she added. “Everything should be handled according to official regulations.”

Li Zhuiyuan knew she was gently reminding him—leave it to the police, don’t act on your own.

“But the cops are busy. Besides, isn’t the slogan painted on the police station wall about cooperation between police and the people?”

Liu Yumei gave the boy a long look, lifted her wine cup, and took another sip. “Even in a monkey troop, there’s always a king.”

Meaning: there really was a tough one among those water monkeys.

“Or maybe it’s just the best of a bad bunch,” Li Zhuiyuan offered.

“Heh.” Liu Yumei chuckled and waved her chopsticks. “Go eat, child.”

Li Zhuiyuan returned to his table.

Aunt Liu leaned in and whispered, “Should I check what kind of books he’s been reading?”

Earlier, the boy’s comment had vaguely referenced Sihai’s fish pond, subtly implying that if someone could mistake bait for the main hole and trip up, then they weren’t that impressive after all.

This realization chilled Aunt Liu more than when he asked if she had poison that morning.

The poison question showed he was still a kid; this insight suggested he’d already crossed a threshold—and deeply.

Liu Yumei shook her head. “Before, if the boy hadn’t come, we might’ve blamed it on reading Uncle Sanjiang’s books. But now that he’s seeing the real paths, snooping will only drag us in too. What, are you eager to join Ah Li in the afterlife?”

“Of course not. You still need someone by your side.”

“I may be old, but I still can’t cook.”

“Seems Uncle Sanjiang’s basement library really is something else.”

“Didn’t he say? During the Cultural Revolution, several groups of people deliberately left their books with him.”

“Turns out those groups weren’t ordinary folks after all.”

“There’s no such thing as just us having sharp eyes while everyone else is blind.”

“You’re right.”

Liu Yumei kept some thoughts to herself.

Even the most extraordinary books are still just books.

And the more extraordinary they are, the harder they are to understand.

Daoist texts? Many spend a lifetime and still can’t crack one.

She liked drinking tea in the courtyard while the boy sat above her, flipping through books like they were comics—one after another.

If those were rare and powerful Daoist volumes, and he still managed to absorb them that way… well, that would be almost against the natural order.

Yet facts spoke otherwise.

When he first moved in, he’d been a frightened child who’d just seen his first Dead Sinker. Now, not only could he identify bait holes from main lairs, he could even guide a Dead Sinker himself.

In pre-liberation times, such a child would’ve been fought over by every sect to inherit their mantle.

Heh…

If her memorial tablet honored something with even a bit of spirit, it would’ve been making a racket by now, demanding she take him as a disciple.

Might’ve even sparked a feud between Qin’s and Liu’s spirit tablets over whose legacy he should inherit.

Just watch.

Liu Yumei refilled her cup.

If Ah Li ever recovered, she might teach him the Liu Clan’s Art of Observing Qi as thanks.

Li Zhuiyuan returned to his meal. Some things needed to be clarified with Granny Liu—he had to show where he stood.

He still needed Aunt Liu as his insurance.

Even though the incident would happen at Big Beard’s house, if he couldn’t contain it, his own family could get dragged in. At that point, Aunt Liu would need to return home to help Uncle Qin care for the elder.

After lunch, Runsheng, belly bulging, was ready to head back to the workshop.

Li Zhuiyuan stopped him and handed over some schematics. “Brother Runsheng, make these first. I need them urgently.”

Runsheng took the papers without even glancing. “Sure.”

He trusted that Little Yuan wouldn’t give him anything incomprehensible.

Then Li Zhuiyuan and Qin Li went to their room.

He resumed picking through the ten taboos, while Ah Li continued carving with her knife.

The desk was large enough for both to work side-by-side without disturbing each other.

Eventually, Li Zhuiyuan settled on two taboos.

The books he’d read described many taboos, but most weren’t feasible. Even among the ten he shortlisted, at least half were rejected due to overly complex conditions.

Some required materials he could recognize by name but not identify in real life—and most came with hundred- or thousand-year qualifiers.

Others needed strange tools that bordered on black magic—like human-skin drums, with specifications for the exact age of the male or female child used.

One even demanded building an underground tomb in a special location, harvesting yin-yang feng shui, and placing a Little Oriole inside.

Honestly, if he had the means to pull that off, why would he still be scheming against those water monkeys?

The two he chose:

One involved altering feng shui to temporarily convert a corpse-nurturing site into a conflict zone—like splashing water into hot oil.

The other used scripture banners wrapped around a Little Oriole to stir her resentment into a frenzy. The banners worked like wind—strong enough to blow out a flame, but just right and they could make it blaze higher.

With his current level, his only worry was whether the wind would blow—not whether it’d blow too strong.

These two were the most feasible.

And like stimulants, they’d exhaust the Little Oriole afterward, reducing the risk of her going out of control.

Li Zhuiyuan had already sent Runsheng to handcraft the ritual flags. Now he needed to redesign their deployment—to pinpoint which feng shui nodes needed altering. That required lots of calculations.

He opened a drawer, pulled out a roll of white paper, and cut off a section to size.

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