Chapter 38.4: The Dead Sinker

As she spoke, Secretary Jin reached out and touched Li Zhuiyuan’s cheek.

Li Zhuiyuan felt the woman’s fingertips—her skin was raised with calluses, her palm thick and rough.

The boy gave a shy smile and took a half-step back.

Then, he reached out and pulled Runsheng close. Runsheng bent down so the boy could whisper in his ear:

“Brother Runsheng, good thing you left me at the town square yesterday. That’s how I ended up at the police station. The uncles and aunties there gave me so many snacks, and in the end, one of the uncles even gave me a ride home on his motorcycle, hehe.”

Runsheng was utterly confused but instinctively replied:

“Mm, yes.”

Secretary Jin covered her mouth and chuckled, a glint of mischief and relief in her eyes.

Yes, she thought she was smart—confirmed that the boy hadn’t recognized her. After all, she’d worn a mask last night.

Li Zhuiyuan stood by, waiting to hear why Ding Dalin had come, but the two old men had launched into nostalgic war stories.

The thing was, these two weren’t exactly war heroes—they’d been conscripted after the Japanese surrendered. No glorious tales to tell.

His own great-grandfather had fought his way from the northeast to the interior, taken Pingjin, and cracked Huaihai.

Ding Dalin, on the other hand, had marched westward and ended up holed up in Southeast Asia. Still, he had no shortage of self-praise, even calling himself a veteran of the Expeditionary Force.

Clearly, his great-grandfather was thrilled to have a chat—most of his peers in the village were either dead or too muddled to hold a conversation. It was rare to find another sharp old geezer.

But Ding Dalin looked less than thrilled. Li Zhuiyuan noticed he tried several times to change the subject, only to be yanked back by the enthusiastic old man.

Finally, with lunchtime approaching, Ding Dalin got to the point:

“I heard someone died at the Big Beard’s house recently—two people?”

Li Sanjiang immediately frowned. “Why are you asking?”

Seeing the reaction, Ding Dalin glanced briefly at Secretary Jin, then pressed on:

“Sanjianghou, tell me—how did those two die?”

The death of the Big Beard and his son was a taboo topic for Li Sanjiang. He waved dismissively, clearly annoyed.

“They said the father and son got drunk one night, bragged about who could swim better, and went to the fish pond for a race. They drowned.”

“Really? I heard it was you, Sanjianghou, who pulled their bodies out?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“I also heard the bodies were badly swollen when you retrieved them. That true?”

“Corpses swell up in water. That’s normal.”

“But it was just one night—how could they swell up that fast? It’s not like soaking dried fungus.”

“Well… I wouldn’t know.”

“Try to remember.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime. Why bring that up now? Don’t ruin everyone’s appetite.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. How long’s it been since you came home? Let’s have a proper meal today, enjoy some hometown cooking.”

“Actually, Sanjianghou, I asked for a reason. I’m getting old. Thinking of coming back for good, maybe buying a house in the village.

The Big Beard’s place is for sale, and the price looks right.”

“That’s tricky. Even if you were born here, your household registration isn’t local anymore. The homestead land belongs to the collective—only villagers can buy and sell.”

“Easy. I give you the money, you buy it in your name, I live there.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m not long for this world. Money’s just money. I’ve already let it go. When I die, the house can go to your great-grandson.”

Li Sanjiang glanced at Li Zhuiyuan standing nearby. Honestly, he was tempted.

Ever since Little Yuanhou lost his city household registration, he’d felt guilty. Maybe buying more property for the boy would ease that guilt. Village houses might be worthless, but the land itself still held value.

“If you really trust me, I can help. But I suggest you pick a different house.”

“Why?”

“There’s something off about that one.”

Li Sanjiang had seen Little Oriole walk into the pond with his own eyes. Even during the last retrieval, he hadn’t dared dive too deep, afraid a pair of hands might reach up and drag him down.

If that house passed to Little Yuanhou, wouldn’t he end up living next to a dead sinker?

“Something off? Be specific. Is it the house, or something else? Don’t blame me for asking. It’s supposed to be my retirement home—I need to be cautious.

In Southeast Asia, people are even more superstitious and wary than here.”

“That pond has seen death. Just imagine—walking out each day and facing that pond. How unsettling would that be?”

“That’s nothing—unless the pond is really cursed. Just give it to me straight. If you say it is, I won’t buy. I’ll pick another place.”

“It is.”

“Alright. I’ll find another.”

“Good.”

“I’ll go ask the village head in your name, see which houses are available.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll be off, then.”

“Hey, stay for lunch.” That invitation was sincere—he’d just given money to the younger generation. It was only right to offer a meal.

“No, I’ve got lunch plans. Meeting with the town chief.”

“Alright then. Come back soon.”

“I will, I will.”

Secretary Jin helped Ding Dalin down the embankment. After getting in the car, Ding Dalin’s expression darkened:

“So it’s true. The pond in front of the Big Beard’s place—that’s the main burial pit.”

“Boss, that boy, Little Yuan…”

“What about him?”

“Nothing. Just… he’s quite handsome.”

Since she’d figured out why the boy had been with the police the night before, Secretary Jin didn’t press further.

“Heh, why are you eyeing a kid? You’re old enough to be his mother.

Alright, back to business.

Next step is to buy the Big Beard’s place. We’ll have our people pose as an opera troupe, set up a stage, and celebrate the housewarming. Then we dig at night.

If they even used a bait pit, then whoever’s buried in the main pit must be someone significant. The tomb’s bound to hold treasures.

Once this job’s done, I can finally retire for real.”

…

Li Zhuiyuan stood on the embankment, a coin in hand, watching the car drive off in the distance.

Those Water Monkeys really did find the main burial pit. Ding Dalin and his crew were after the Big Beard’s pond.

Now, should he call the police—or help Little Oriole?

He looked down at the coin in his palm and whispered, “Leave it to fate. If it’s characters, I call the police. If it’s flowers, I help Little Oriole.”

Clink!

The coin flew and landed, quivering slightly before settling.

Characters.

Li Zhuiyuan nodded, picked up the coin, blew on it, and said,

“So be it. Help Little Oriole first, then call the police.”

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