Corpse Retriever

The most immediate threat was the testimony.

Even Yin Meng, who stood silently to the side, was now contemplating which part of the school would be best for burying a body.

It wasn’t in Yin Meng’s nature to act so decisively. But if the boy simply patted his leg and said, “Bury her,” she would unhesitatingly pick up a shovel and start digging.

Because she knew—the boy could tolerate Runsheng’s stupidity, but he would never give her a second chance.

The same logic applied: if even one’s companions believed it, then the “threatened party” could no longer hold onto any shred of hope.

Sun Hongxia even started to suspect that the boy in front of her would rather bury her alive than know the truth.

“I mean…”

Li Zhuiyuan turned his head toward the still-open shop door.

Yin Meng walked over, shut the door, and locked it.

Li Zhuiyuan asked, “Have you been to her room?”“No.”

“Take her there.”

“Got it.”

Yin Meng hoisted Sun Hongxia up, locking her arm in a technique designed to immobilize someone completely.

Before heading downstairs, Li Zhuiyuan grabbed a can of soda from the shelf, took two sips, and then picked up another.

Down in the basement, the door to Sun Hongxia’s room was open. The space inside was fairly large. Just as Xue Liangliang had said earlier, the only drawback to these basement rooms was the lack of natural light—everything else was decent.

But her room had two altars in it, one large, one small, making the atmosphere feel suffocating.

The larger altar was about the size of a regular dining table, while the smaller one resembled a bench.

A memorial portrait of a girl was placed on the large altar. On the smaller one was a boy’s portrait.

The two altars faced each other, one high, one low. Next to the boy’s photo on the small altar sat a prayer cushion fashioned from strips of old clothing.

The candles and incense burners on the altars hadn’t been used in the past couple of days.

Sun Hongxia leaned against the bed, half-sitting, half-kneeling.

When Li Zhuiyuan entered, he took a sip of soda, still holding the second can in his other hand.

Yin Meng instinctively raised her hand to receive it.

But the boy just sat by the bed and placed the second can by his feet.

Oh. So it wasn’t for her.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t like sugary drinks, but his head felt dizzy—he needed the sugar.

Sun Hongxia opened her mouth a few times, hesitating each time.

Interrupting an interrogation is the worst thing you can do—it allows the subject to rebuild their psychological defenses and renew their willingness to resist.

But Li Zhuiyuan didn’t care. The Comprehensive Treatise on Yin-Yang Physiognomy could tell him whether most people were lying, and more importantly, he preferred to stay in control.

He pointed at the boy’s photo on the small altar. “What’s your son’s name?”

Yin Meng was slightly surprised. She had assumed the girl on the taller altar was Sun Hongxia’s daughter, maybe even connected to that long-haired, faceless ghost. But apparently, Sun Hongxia had a son.

“His name is Zhao Junfeng.”

“And the girl?”

“Her surname is Qiu. Qiu Minmin.”

Li Zhuiyuan finished the first can, opened the second. “What did Zhao Junfeng do to Qiu Minmin?”

“In the bathroom… Fengfeng assaulted her. Then he killed her.”

“A student at this school?”

“Yes.”

“When did this happen?”

“Seven years ago.”

“Qiu Minmin’s family is still here on campus, right?”

Sun Hongxia’s lips trembled. She clearly didn’t want to answer, but the boy gave her a glance. She shuddered and finally gave in, answering as if resigned to fate:

“Yes. Her mother is still here.”

“My patience is limited.”

“She… her mother’s surname is Ran. She’s the dorm supervisor in our building.”

Yin Meng, still in the room, felt her brain falter.

At this point, it didn’t feel like the boy was interrogating her. It felt more like he was using Sun Hongxia to verify things he already knew. But how could he possibly know all this?

Did he come in already informed?

That seemed impossible. If he had known in advance, things wouldn’t have escalated to this point.

Actually, these things were fairly easy to deduce. The arrangement of the altars made it easy to imagine Sun Hongxia kneeling on the cushion with her son, repeatedly apologizing to the girl’s spirit.

The boy’s and girl’s photos looked like they were of college-aged students. Though Sun Hongxia spoke like a local, her accent hinted she came from out of province.

Formal staff positions in school logistics were hard to get, but temp jobs weren’t. Even then, they paid better than working endlessly at Xue Liangliang’s shop. It implied she was deliberately hiding her identity and wasn’t just working for money.

Guilt had driven her to stay. Qiu Minmin was already dead. So the only one she could atone to was her family.

All Li Zhuiyuan had done was use basic logic to reverse-engineer the facts, then confirm them with Sun Hongxia—and they all happened to be correct. Luck played a part.

“You knew Qiu Minmin was still at the school. That she was here.”

Sun Hongxia nodded. “Yes. She often dances upstairs at night when no one’s around. She used to perform in school shows. She was very good.”

“Why hasn’t she taken revenge on you?”

“I was scared when I first ‘saw’ her too. But I thought—this was the sin my son committed. If she wanted to kill me for revenge, I deserved it. I even used to kneel in the upstairs dance room, begging her to kill me.

“But… she didn’t.

“Over time, I got used to it.

“Maybe she thinks it would be too easy to let me die. So she wants to haunt me, to torment me. That’s her way of revenge. And I accept it.”

“Maybe?”

“That’s just my guess.”

“No, it’s not your guess. You don’t have that kind of mind.”

Sun Hongxia said nothing.

“It was Qiu Minmin’s mother, that Dorm Auntie Ran, who told you this, wasn’t it?”

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