Corpse Retriever

Although the induction ceremony wasn’t until noon, Li Zhuiyuan had gone over early in the morning, trailed by Tan Wenbin, Runsheng, and Yin Meng.

He’d hoped to help out with the move, but upon arrival, found the place already empty.

Granny Liu’s move was just that—she moved herself. All the furniture and belongings were left behind. After all, the building was hers too. Wherever she placed things, it was still her own.

So Li Zhuiyuan and the others returned to campus and made their way to the residential compound for the old professors. The units here were row-style, but both the houses and courtyards were smaller.

Tan Wenbin asked around and found Luo Gong’s old place. When they arrived, they saw a man in the small courtyard, hammering nails into a flower stand.

Li Zhuiyuan called out, “Uncle Qin, the soy sauce bottle in the kitchen tipped over.”

“Did it? Then I better go upright it quick.”

Uncle Qin hammered in the final nail, turned around, and met Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze. The two shared a smile.

Li Zhuiyuan still vividly remembered riding on the back of Uncle Qin’s heavy-framed bicycle a year ago—back when he was terrifyingly strong.

Inside the courtyard, it was clear how much thought Luo Gong had once put into its layout. Though it wasn’t as large as the previous house, it had its own charm.If Liu Yumei had managed to get used to the cramped east wing at the great-grandfather’s place, she’d surely adapt here too.

Most importantly, this place was on campus—very close to his dorm—making future visits much easier.

Inside the house, they found that Ah Li’s room had been placed on the sunlit ground floor, with a floor-to-ceiling window looking out to the yard.

You didn’t even need to use the front door to enter. Just hop the small courtyard fence, cross the lawn, slide open the window, and you were in.

This might seem a bit unsafe to others, but for this household, safety was the least of their worries.

However, the room itself was small—barely enough space for a bed—so Ah Li’s drawing desk and study table were moved to the second room on the ground floor.

Liu Yumei and Aunt Liu had their bedrooms upstairs.

Seeing both Runsheng and Binbin there, Aunt Liu slapped her forehead. “Ay, we just moved in and already getting put to work.”

The big pot meal was soon cooking.

Li Zhuiyuan once again savored the familiar taste from the great-grandfather’s home.

During the meal, Tan Wenbin asked, “Granny Liu, which restaurant are we eating at this noon?”

Liu Yumei pointed at the table with her chopsticks. “Right here, at home.”

Tan Wenbin looked up, puzzled. “Can we all fit?”

“Aren’t we all sitting now?”

“So… no guests?”

“What guests? Isn’t the whole family here?”

“Heh, I thought you might invite some old friends to join. You’ve really gotten used to the quiet life now—your state of mind’s high.”

“Even back in the day, we never invited outsiders for the induction rite. We never made it a grand affair.” Liu Yumei glanced at Li Zhuiyuan as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief. “After the induction, if the child walks the shade and returns, he’ll learn what he needs to know. But if he doesn’t return… inviting outsiders would only give them fuel to mock.”

Uncle Qin, sitting at the table, lowered his head and set down his chopsticks.

Li Zhuiyuan understood—Uncle Qin had failed in walking the shade. Granny Liu blamed herself for pushing too hard, but Li Zhuiyuan had always wondered: with Uncle Qin’s strength, what could’ve stopped him?

He had also smelled the herbal medicine lingering on Uncle Qin earlier—proof he’d returned injured, and badly.

Granny Liu glanced at Uncle Qin out of the corner of her eye and said mildly, “A Li, eat up.”

“Mm.” Uncle Qin picked up his chopsticks again. “Xiaoyuan won’t let you down.”

“Different times now. I let it go long ago.” With that, Granny Liu, having just wiped her mouth, picked up her spoon again and sipped from the snow pear soup.

Some things were just words. You could lie to others, but not to yourself.

The legacy of the Qin and Liu families now rested on her shoulders.

To say she no longer hoped to see past glories again? That was clearly a lie.

But time had taught her patience. She’d never pressure a youth again like she did with Qin Li.

Quite the opposite—now she worried that the boy might move too fast. She might even have to delay his ceremony just to keep him from burning out too soon.

After lunch came a moment of peace. It felt like a holiday—everyone letting go of their work to gather at home.

In the courtyard, Uncle Qin was striking Runsheng’s muscles with his palm.

“Runsheng, you’ve got too much dead muscle. And too much death aura.”

Dead muscle meant he only knew how to use brute force. Death aura came from his body’s nature.

Li Sanjiang had said that when Grandpa Shan found Runsheng, the boy had survived by eating rotten meat.

So the details of Grandpa Shan picking him up by the riverside? Suspicious. Grandpa Shan was a corpse retriever—what was he really doing by the river?

Still, Grandpa Shan truly raised Runsheng like a grandson. Whatever the past, he never brought it up again. Deep down, he just wanted the boy to live like a normal person, not see himself as some freak.

Uncle Qin’s words made Runsheng feel ashamed.

Nervously, he looked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, where the boy sat shoulder to shoulder with Ah Li, playing chess.

Runsheng knew just how much the boy expected from him.

Perhaps because he’d seen Uncle Qin’s strength firsthand, the boy hoped Runsheng would become like him—or even surpass him.

But from the looks of it, he didn’t seem to have the talent.

Chess didn’t require full focus—not even while playing three games blindfolded at once.

So of course, Li Zhuiyuan had heard Uncle Qin’s critique. But he wasn’t worried.

If Runsheng truly had no talent, Uncle Qin wouldn’t even bother scolding him. The harsher his words, the higher his true opinion. He believed this promising seedling deserved better development.

Uncle Qin began adjusting Runsheng’s muscle mechanics, coaching him through a personalized breathing technique.

This showed just how vital people were to the inheritance system.

People were the true vessels of legacy. Written records were only support.

In the kitchen, Aunt Liu was teaching Yin Meng how to make desserts.

She taught carefully, speaking softly, and Yin Meng followed diligently.