Chapter 68.4: Return from the Deep

Yin Meng looked confused.

Li Zhuiyuan stood on tiptoe, peeled the talisman off, and explained, “Binbin, the paper got wet. When it touches oil, it turns purple.”

“Oh... oh!” Tan Wenbin scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

Runsheng leaned in. “If it smelled like a water corpse, I’d have told you.”

Yin Meng bent over laughing. “For a second, I really thought I was a Dead Sinker! Hahahahaha!”

…

The three of them stepped out of the coffin shop. At the door, Li Zhuiyuan pointed at the little water jar.

“Why does every shop have one of these?”

Yin Meng replied, “This is Fengdu Ghost City. The street is called Ghost Street. And those who love window-shopping aren’t all the living. Come nightfall, the others come out too.

“Back before light bulbs, candles weren’t much help once it got dark. Shopkeepers would close up and count their copper coins—only to find some of them were made of paper.

“So it became a custom: put a water jar outside the shop, drop your earnings in. If it floats, it’s fake. Don’t do business with that customer.”

Tan Wenbin asked, “But now we all use paper bills. Everything floats. Shouldn’t every store have a bill scanner?”

Yin Meng shrugged. “Those cost money. Can’t afford one.”

Tan Wenbin blinked. “Wait, you still get fake money?”

She pulled open a drawer and took out a stack of paper bills from the Bank of Heaven and Earth.

“Look, this is what I’ve gotten since the beginning of the month. Would’ve been enough to cover next month’s rent—if it came from the living.”

Tan Wenbin touched one of the bills with his fingertips, cautiously.

“You’re joking, right? For our immersive experience?”

“Of course. Ghosts? In this day and age? Even floaters barely show up anymore. Haven’t taken a corpse job in ages.”

“No floaters? But this place has so many waterways. People are bound to fall in and drown, right?”

“They call for someone from the village. Hardly ever come to me. They think storefront prices are too steep.”

“So you’re actually cheaper?”

“Nope. I am expensive,” Yin Meng said matter-of-factly. “Lowering the price would make me lose face. I’m a certified Corpse Retriever, after all.”

“Serves you right for struggling with rent.”

“Let’s go, Binbin.”

“Wait for me, Little Yuan!”

…

The rest of the afternoon, Li Zhuiyuan led Runsheng and Tan Wenbin on a detailed tour of Fengdu Ghost City. There were many sculptures and temples. In daylight, the place wasn’t scary at all.

Along the way, they saw two traditional performance troupes. The folk elements were strong, and both Runsheng and Tan Wenbin were engrossed—reading every plaque beneath every statue. Tourists walked by in passing, but the two treated it like a field trip.

Li Zhuiyuan strolled at his own pace, taking in the architecture and style. As for the info boards—he didn’t need them. His head was already full of that stuff.

Back when Li Lan didn’t hate him yet, she used to let him sit in her study while she worked. She’d either hand him a blueprint to play with or throw a pile of books his way.

By the time the sun began to set, they descended the mountain and returned to Ghost Street.

The crowd had only grown. Many locals had daytime obligations and could only attend the fair at night.

And truthfully, the Ghost City was best experienced in the dark. When all those red and white lanterns lit up, the atmosphere truly came alive.

The coffin shop was still deserted. Yin Meng wasn’t even bothering to sit behind the counter.

“We’re back!” Tan Wenbin shouted.

Yin Meng poked her head out from behind the curtain. “I cooked pig trotters! Let’s have a feast tonight—straight fire!”

Li Zhuiyuan replied, “Sounds good.”

…

By seven, night had fully fallen.

Yin Meng came out carrying a large basin of stewed pig’s feet. The four gathered around a small table.

The meat melted off the bone—tender and well-cooked.

Except... she’d forgotten to shave the pig hairs, which prickled unpleasantly in every bite.

She was an exuberant, open-hearted person. With business being slow, she didn’t often have company. Tonight, she was thrilled to chat endlessly.

Runsheng focused on eating. Li Zhuiyuan chimed in here and there. But the real sparring partner was Tan Wenbin, who held his own with Yin Meng in banter.

He even tried out the Sichuan dialect he’d been half-learning. The pronunciation was off, but he’d gotten the cadence. Before long, they were chatting so fast and high-pitched, it sounded like a folk-song duel.

They didn’t talk much about corpse retrieval, since Yin Meng hadn’t done many jobs. She’d pulled some floaters, but never encountered a true Dead Sinker.

All her skills and knowledge came from her grandfather. Her parents divorced when she was very young. Her father went south and vanished. Her mother remarried in a nearby town and had two more sons. Yin Meng had gone to find her mother once, but later realized her mother wanted nothing to do with her.

When she reached this part of her story, Li Zhuiyuan clinked soda glasses with her in quiet sympathy.

She’d lived with her grandfather most of her life. He ran the shop and was a proper Corpse Retriever. Before he passed, he left the store to her.

She had the brains for another business, probably something more profitable. But she refused to change the nature of the store—because she knew her grandfather wouldn’t approve.

Li Zhuiyuan had noticed the calluses on her palms, the way her toes shifted subtly when she moved. She had martial training.

That’s also why a young woman like her could run a shop here alone—any local punks had already tasted her fists.

She joked that if she wanted, she could be the queen of Ghost Street, collecting protection fees.

Runsheng paused his pig trotter feast to raise his glass and toast her.

Li Zhuiyuan had asked whether her grandfather left behind any books. She’d been confused—weren’t Corpse Retrievers all trained by word of mouth and demonstration? What good would a book do?

It disappointed him a bit. He’d hoped to see what fellow professionals might have archived. But alas, nothing. And maybe, he thought, she was lucky. From all the signs, her grandfather must’ve been very skilled. Her education had been thorough.

Still, Li Zhuiyuan didn’t think any less of his own great-grandfather. After all, the old man could chug fortune and good luck like it was water. Following him meant living well—good food, good drink, every day.

All in all, tonight had been the most relaxed and joyful evening since they’d left Nantong. Everyone was content and at ease.

That peace lasted… until it was time to arrange sleeping quarters.

“You want us to sleep in coffins?” Tan Wenbin clutched his head, dumbfounded.

Yin Meng was busy laying quilts inside one of the shop’s coffins.

“What’s wrong? Coffins are comfy.”

“Can I sleep on the floor instead?”

“This is a mountain town. Gets cold at night. I don’t have enough bedding. Coffins are warmer.”

“First time I’ve heard ‘warm’ used to describe a coffin…”

The back room doubled as a storage area and kitchen. Three coffins were inside; two more were in the main shop.

Well… when in Rome.

In the end, Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng took the outer coffins. Tan Wenbin and Yin Meng took the inner ones.

Coffins, like stinky tofu, were unsettling to look at—but surprisingly cozy once inside. There was a strange, snug sense of security.

Of course, the lids were left slightly ajar for airflow.

They were all tired from the day’s walking and sightseeing. Tan Wenbin soon drifted into sleep—only to be startled awake by a sound.

Scratch... scratch...

Nails scraping across the lid of his coffin.

Tan Wenbin broke out in a cold sweat. He pulled the blanket up to his face, leaving only a narrow slit to peek through.

Runsheng’s face appeared above.

“Hehe.”

“What the hell, man?!”

“Bathroom.”

The toilet was in the back. Runsheng had to pass through the inner room to reach it.

Tan Wenbin groaned and covered his face again.

A few minutes later, the sound came back.

Scratch... scratch...

This time, he was scared. Surely that wasn’t Runsheng again?

Suddenly, Runsheng’s face popped up once more.

“What now?!”

“Just letting you know I’m back from peeing. Going to sleep.”

Tan Wenbin ground his teeth in frustration.

Eventually, sleep crept back in.

Scratch... scratch...

He opened his eyes and smacked the inside of the coffin lid.

The sound stopped.

He turned on his side, trying to reclaim some drowsiness.

Scratch... scratch...

He flung off the covers, grabbed the coffin edges, and sat up.

No one was around.

Did Runsheng move that fast?

Tan Wenbin swallowed hard. A chill prickled his spine. He didn’t dare get out—just curled back under the quilt.

Scratch... scratch...

The sound returned. He tucked his head beneath the covers, pulled his feet in, and tried to pretend he didn’t hear anything.

The noise stopped again.

He stayed like that for a long time, sweating, until he was convinced Runsheng had finally gone to sleep.

He decided to peek out—quick up, quick down.

One, two, three...

He threw the blanket up.

But before he could throw it back down—

A wrinkled old face was already inches from his own, staring at him from inside the coffin.

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