Corpse Retriever

Luo Tingrui turned to Li Zhuiyuan, signaling for him to take a guess.

Li Zhuiyuan gave a shy smile and asked, “Did you fall asleep?”

Luo Tingrui’s mouth opened slightly, clearly surprised.

“Xiaoyuan, how did you figure that out?”

“Because I get like that too when I’m sleepy.”

Luo Tingrui nodded, not confirming or denying, and continued his story. “Looking back, I must’ve fallen asleep. The teammate who pulled me out said I was found unconscious in a crevice.

But I don’t think it was a dream—everything felt too real.

I stumbled my way to the very end of the passage and saw a grand, lavish hall. There were singers and dancers performing, people drinking and feasting.

They invited me to join. They asked me many things, and I asked them a few as well.

I can’t recall the exact questions and answers—only that we talked for a long time, drank a lot, and eventually I passed out completely.When I woke up, I was lying inside a camp tent.

Sound familiar? Like the story of the Peach Blossom Spring?”

Tan Wenbin nodded. “It does. Narrow entry that suddenly opens up, friendly hosts with food and drink—it matches the structure.”

Xue Liangliang asked, “Did you report this, sir?”

“Of course I did. But a lot of people were reporting strange sightings those days. Some saw soldiers in ancient armor in the tunnels. Others saw women in old-style clothes.”

“What about follow-up investigations? What happened to the crevice?”

“It flooded later. The entire site was submerged. And something went wrong in a few of those restricted zones—some people never made it back. I don’t know the full details.

Our mission was suspended, and no feedback ever came from my report.”

“They didn’t believe you?” asked Xue Liangliang.

Luo Tingrui shook his head. “Maybe they did. Maybe they just didn’t care.”

Tan Wenbin said, “Well, then it’s not like the Peach Blossom Spring at all. That was a beautiful story. Yours sounds kind of creepy in hindsight.”

Li Zhuiyuan chimed in, “Maybe the village in that story wasn’t for the living in the first place.”

“Why do you say that?” Luo Tingrui looked at him curiously.

“Just a feeling. Sir, can you share more details?”

“Details? Sure. Got pen and paper? I’ll draw.”

“I do!” Tan Wenbin immediately pulled out his notebook and pen.

Luo Tingrui began sketching. His technical drafting was excellent—each detail was carefully rendered. He drew a piece of clothing, then a blade, then a full set of armor.

Clearly, this memory had haunted him all these years. He’d revisited it countless times in his mind.

The others leaned in to look, but aside from recognizing that the items were ancient, they couldn’t make much of them.

Li Zhuiyuan glanced over and said, “Goguryeo?”

Luo Tingrui folded his arms and asked seriously, “Xiaoyuan, are you sure you don’t want to switch majors?”

The boy shook his head firmly.

“I just don’t want that head of yours to go to waste.” Luo Tingrui reached out and gently tapped his forehead. “What else are you hiding in there?”

Tan Wenbin looked puzzled. “What’s a ‘Gao-gou-li’?”

Xue Liangliang corrected him. “It’s pronounced Gao-jù-lí.”

Tan Wenbin clapped his hands. “Oh, that I’ve heard of. Lucky history exams don’t test pronunciation.”

Luo Tingrui went on, “Later, I sketched everything I remembered and asked around. It took a long time to piece things together.

Goguryeo ruled the northeast for a long time. Historically, people mainly remember them as background characters to Sui Yangdi, Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of Tang. Most Chinese aren’t too interested in their culture. But the Koreans love claiming them as ancestors.

That’s why I was so stunned when Li Zhuiyuan recognized the artifacts.”

He lit a cigarette and continued. “Later, due to work and personal interest, I visited Ji’an multiple times. On the last two trips, I spoke with local experts on Goguryeo culture and visited the museum. That’s when I confirmed what I saw that night wasn’t imaginary.

I’d never encountered anything related to Goguryeo culture before then. Never seen it, never read it—so how could I have dreamed it up?”

Xue Liangliang asked, “What happened to that project?”

“I checked back on it two years ago. All I found was that the situation had been much worse than I originally knew. All documentation and project records were sealed and are no longer accessible.”

Tan Wenbin joked, “Sounds like your white moonlight.”

Luo Tingrui chuckled. “Yeah, I was young. Started working early—wasn’t much older than you guys are now.

Honestly, I’ve seen even crazier things since.”

“Tell us more!” Tan Wenbin begged.

“Can’t. That Goguryeo case—I was denied access to files. But the rest are part of sealed cases. I’m not allowed to talk about them.”

“Pity.” Tan Wenbin sighed in disappointment.

“You’ll come across things like this someday, too. And you’ll be expected to keep them secret.

Anyway, let’s get back to the present. Forget the underground palace—even the underground river you found is enough to kill Ma Yiming’s proposed plan.”

Xue Liangliang said, “It wasn’t really Team Leader Ma’s fault…”

“Those above know that. But when something goes wrong, someone has to take the blame. That said, he likely won’t be seriously punished. It just depends on whether he can pull himself together.

I’m not going to watch him cry. Don’t feel like comforting him either. Since the founding of the country, how many bridges and roads have been built next to martyrs’ memorials? I’ve seen plenty myself. The best way to honor them is to keep building.”

He raised his cup of soy milk. The others did the same and clinked their glasses.

Tan Wenbin drained his drink and thought: Now that’s leadership—he can elevate a moment more smoothly than my dad ever could.

“Liangliang, you’ll come with me to another team in a few days. We’re pushing forward on that proposal. Let’s finish it soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about you, Xiaoyuan?”

“Huh?” Li Zhuiyuan pointed at himself. “I can still go?”

“I meant, do you want to rest after what you’ve been through?”

“Right. Yeah… I should rest.” He nodded. He was exhausted—and he still had to go to Fengdu.

“Good. You’re young—balance your workload. I’ve heard child prodigies often have weak constitutions.”

“It’s not that serious, but I’ll keep it in mind, sir.”

Xue Liangliang brought up a concern. “Sir, we didn’t lure that creature on purpose to save anyone.”

“I know. You just told me that.”

“I don’t want to take credit I didn’t earn.”

“Liangliang… and all of you, listen—everyone dreams of being spotless and pure. But the world has dust, and sometimes even sandstorms.”

“I get that, but sir…”

“This incident—if it gives us a hero to point to, it’ll help folks like Ma Yiming recover too.”

“I understand.”

After the meal, Luo Tingrui left first. The four returned to the guesthouse.

Tan Wenbin sighed with satisfaction. “That grilled fish was amazing. I bet if someone learned the recipe and opened up a chain in another city, they’d make a fortune.”

Xue Liangliang said, “If you’re serious, I’ll invest.”

“No no, just talking. Making money can’t compare to studying.”

Then he asked quietly, “So… does this honor come with bonus points?”

“Not for college. And the incident will remain classified.”

“Oh.” Tan Wenbin’s shoulders slumped.

Runsheng asked, “Can’t you think of another way to earn extra points?”

Tan Wenbin shrugged. “The only other way is if my dad dies a glorious death on duty.”

Runsheng fell silent, stunned.

That bundle of rotten straw Tan Wenbin had brought out was now in a bag. Li Zhuiyuan handed it, along with a sheet of paper, to Xue Liangliang.

“Liangliang-ge, the paper has instructions on how to restore it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not meeting up with the professor for a few days. I’ll drive back to Shan City first and get someone from the unit to handle it.”

He glanced at the list. “The materials are easy to find. Most are common. But since you want this kept secret, no way we can go through an official relics office. I have a friend who can do it, but it’ll take time.”

“No rush. Just start the restoration slowly. I can’t keep it stored properly myself.”

“Got it. So you’re off to Fengdu next?”

“Runsheng-ge needs to change his dressing tomorrow. We’ll head out the day after.”

“Travel safely. Let me know when you’re coming back—I’ll book your tickets.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

On the third morning, Li Zhuiyuan, Runsheng, and Tan Wenbin set off for Fengdu. First by car, then transferring to a boat. They disembarked right at the Fengdu dock.

They could’ve just called the Ding family and asked them to trace the Yin family of Fengdu. But that was Grandma Liu’s connection, and Li Zhuiyuan didn’t want to rely on it unless he had to. He preferred to try on his own first.

From the dock upward, the streets bustled with noise. Crowds thronged the main road, lined with stalls and shops. They had arrived just in time for the Ghost Festival temple fair.

Tan Wenbin was thrilled, darting around. “Hey, not gonna lie—this temple fair is way more fun than the ones back in Nantong. Actually, ours can’t even compare.”

Li Zhuiyuan said, “Binbin-ge, tourism is just going from the place you’re sick of to someone else’s.”

“Oh yeah. Forgot you returning to Nantong is kind of tourism too.”

“Sort of.”

“But Xiaoyuan, I swear—people here in Sichuan and Chongqing know how to live. Back home, I can’t even find a proper night snack after evening classes.

Haha, I want to try that! You guys want some?”

The local street food was overwhelming in variety and dirt cheap. Even frugal Runsheng, who normally avoided eating out, didn’t mind splurging this time.

The three wandered, sampling everything—it counted as lunch. In the lively atmosphere, even Runsheng’s hearty appetite didn’t attract attention.

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