Chapter 51: A Matter of the Heart

On some of the illustrations, Li Zhuiyuan noticed that these didn’t seem like traditional hand-to-hand combat forms. Judging by the depicted movements, the techniques appeared specially designed to counter Dead Sinkers.

Moreover, Lu Runsheng’s appearance yesterday had helped Li Zhuiyuan clear up the fog he’d been reading through.

Despite Lu Runsheng’s strange appetite and peculiar traits, he was actually the perfect example of a textbook Corpse Retriever physique.

And his own great-grandfather’s physical endurance was excellent as well. Otherwise, how could he have carried corpses all the way from the Shanghai Bund to here? Even at his age, he could still easily carry Li Zhuiyuan along rural trails.

Seeing that Uncle Qin hadn’t replied, Li Zhuiyuan pressed again, “Uncle?”

Uncle Qin looked down at him. “You’d have to ask the elders if they agree.”

“Okay. I’ll ask when we get back.”

The elder Uncle Qin referred to was vaguely stated, but Li Zhuiyuan knew exactly who he meant—Granny Liu.

“Xiaoyuan, there’s something I need to say in advance.”

“Please, Uncle.”

“I’m a lazy man. I only do what’s within my duties. Anything outside of that, I absolutely won’t touch.”

“That’s not true, Uncle. You’re clearly very hardworking.”

Even by rural standards, Uncle Qin was one of the most diligent people around—farming, laboring, making deliveries. Not even the village ox worked harder than he did.

“I mean it. If something’s not my responsibility, even if I’m standing right next to it and a soy sauce bottle tips over, no matter how much spills out, I won’t lift a finger.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Li Zhuiyuan fell silent.

Uncle Qin sighed inwardly. Talking with this kid gave him the distinct feeling he was speaking with someone far too perceptive. He could tell the boy understood him completely.

After a while, Li Zhuiyuan responded, “Uncle, I understand.”

“Mm.”

Siyuan Village was at the northern edge of Shinan Town, right next to Shigang Town. Taking the small paths Uncle Qin preferred shaved even more time off the trip.

Once they hit the paved roads of Shigang, Uncle Qin continued pedaling toward their destination.

“Uncle, do you know the exact location?”

“I do. I delivered tables and chairs to that village before.”

“Oh.”

“Unless, you want to stop by the town department store first?”

“No, let’s go to where Great-Grandpa is first.”

“Alright then.”

They passed through the town and entered the village. The roads narrowed.

Before long, they spotted a funeral gathering in the distance.

“Uncle, you can stop here.”

“We’re almost there.”

“I’m tired.”

“We’ll rest when we get there. You can have some water too.”

“I need to pee. I really can’t hold it.”

“Alright.”

Uncle Qin parked the bike. Li Zhuiyuan jumped off, found cover under a willow tree, relieved himself, then washed his hands by the ditch.

Uncle Qin had expected the boy to hop back on afterward. But instead, Li Zhuiyuan sat down on a smooth stone by the path, pulled out a gourd-shaped drink, several packs of snacks, and two books from his jacket.

Uncle Qin recognized the drink—it was the one he’d bought for the boy at Li Sanjiang’s request.

No wonder the kid’s clothes looked so stuffed earlier. He’d clearly packed all this on purpose. He wasn’t planning to continue the journey—he was ready to picnic and read right here.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired. Taking a break. Uncle Qin, you sit too.”

“Aren’t you going to give the sword to your great-grandpa? We’re right around the corner. Hurry and drop it off so I can get back to work. Aunt Liu can’t finish everything alone at home, the deadline’s tight. If we miss the order, your great-grandpa’s going to blow a fuse.”

“He won’t. Great-Grandpa said he’d name me in his will. If something happens to him, I’ll be the young master. I won’t blow fuses at anyone.”

“You little brat…”

“Come on, Uncle, sit. You work all the time. Let’s take a little break—balance work and rest.”

Uncle Qin approached, realizing the boy was doing this on purpose. As long as the sword wasn’t delivered, his task wasn’t complete, so he’d have to stay here.

What shocked Uncle Qin even more was how the boy had anticipated that he’d be the type who wouldn’t even help a tipped-over soy sauce bottle.

Was this really a child? This was a monster in a child’s skin!

Suddenly, Uncle Qin let it go. No wonder Qin Li was cold toward everyone else but treated this boy with rare warmth.

He bent down, planning to lift the boy by force and drag him to complete the task.

“Uncle, living together with our families is really warm. Granny Liu is kind, Aunt Liu is gentle.”

Uncle Qin narrowed his eyes.

“The book said harmonious living starts with mutual respect.”

Uncle Qin chuckled. “And what, we don’t have that?”

Li Zhuiyuan turned and looked at how close Uncle Qin was. “Don’t we? I think we do.”

Uncle Qin closed his eyes and straightened up. He felt… outplayed. By a kid.

After a moment, he said, “Xiaoyuan, if I hadn’t agreed to bring you, would you have come alone?”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “I’m just a kid. I can’t help with anything. If I came alone, I’d only get in the way.”

“Alright then. Go find your great-grandpa. I’m not going back, but remember: if the soy sauce bottle falls, I still won’t pick it up.”

“Got it. Thanks, Uncle!”

Li Zhuiyuan quickly packed up and headed to the big black bicycle, urging:

“Uncle, hurry up! We’re almost there!”

…

“What’s wrong with you?” Li Sanjiang looked first at Li Zhuiyuan, then at Qin Li. “Why’d you bring the kid?”

“Great-Grandpa, I missed you. I begged Uncle Qin to bring me. He couldn’t say no.”

“Xiaoyuanhou, this isn’t a place for you. Go on now, let Lihou take you back.”

“No, I’m not leaving. I want to stay.”

Li Zhuiyuan clung tightly to Li Sanjiang’s clothes, his face showing a trace of grievance.

Li Sanjiang wanted to push him away with harsh words, but seeing the child like this, a soft spot deep in his never-married, childless heart was tugged hard.

And so, when an old man dotes on a child, especially a grandchild’s grandchild, all sense of principle tends to go out the window.

“Alright, Lihou, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him wander.”

Qin Li nodded. “Mm, I will.”

Li Zhuiyuan had successfully stayed. He began to observe the Deathday Rite.

It was being held on an empty threshing ground in the village, once a communal space, now occupied by a modest-sized funeral troupe busy with preparations.

Eight performers in Daoist robes circled the offering table, holding ritual tools and chanting under their breath.

On the table sat offerings. At the center, a black-and-white photo of Granny Niu.

The name plaque read “Niu.”

She had been a child bride adopted into her husband’s family, with no maiden family or given name. During the census, she simply registered under her husband’s surname.

The mourning children knelt on straw mats—heads bound with white cord, dressed in mourning hemp, black gauze on their arms—crying while tossing Spirit Money into a fire basin.

Niu Fu and Niu Rui only gave dry sobs, occasionally wiping their eyes. They had the motions but no emotion.

Their younger sister, Niu Lian, was both emotional and expressive. Her tears flowed like a broken faucet, her words non-stop.

“Mother, Father died young—it was you who raised the three of us with such hardship. Aiyoo-wey!”

“Mother, in those lean years, you wouldn’t eat a bite extra, giving it all to us instead. Aiyoo-wey!”

“Mother, we only just grew up, and you didn’t even get to enjoy life before leaving us. Aiyoo-wey!”

Each “aiyoo-wey” capped the sentiment of the previous line, transitioned into the next, and doubled as a breath. Though she was lamenting, it came out sung—arguably the earliest form of Chinese rap.

Her performance inspired her brothers, who echoed the endings and joined the wails in harmony.

Li Zhuiyuan found it quite amusing. Forget that he’d actually met the old woman—just the content of the crying made one laugh through tears. “We just grew up and you didn’t get to enjoy life”? Really?

You’re all grandparents already. If you wanted to be filial, there was plenty of time.

He also thought back to the last funeral—the one where a son cried his heart out by day, only to take his son out for unspeakable depravity that same night.

That’s why the afternoon rites of a funeral troupe, no matter how well performed, couldn’t match the morning’s true drama—the real acting came then.

Still, this Deathday Rite was sparsely attended. Traditionally, such a rite should involve feeding guests.

Li Zhuiyuan approached Li Sanjiang, who was smoking, and asked, “Great-Grandpa, why are there so few people? Aren’t they serving food?”

But not far off, they could see the cook busy at work.

Li Sanjiang sneered. “Half a year ago, when the old lady passed, those three didn’t even hire a proper funeral troupe. The food was pathetic—plain and stingy. Villagers who came with money didn’t even get their stomachs filled.

“So now, for the Deathday Rite, no one’s coming. They’ve lost all credibility.”

Li Zhuiyuan understood. So that’s what this was: last time, the siblings treated their mother’s funeral like a money-grab.

In rural tradition, hosting a ceremony and collecting monetary gifts was a mutual aid practice—people chipping in so the family could afford the affair. Even if a few freeloaders came, you usually broke even.

But these three—shameless.

Liu Jinxia was seated behind the offering table, wiping smoke-stung tears with a handkerchief. Still, she kept chanting scriptures, occasionally handing down specific yellow talismans for the mourners to burn.

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