Chapter 72.2: Homecoming

Normally, balconies don’t move. But he was alive—so the girl’s gaze would follow his every motion.

He raised his right palm again. The scald from before had disappeared, thanks to Aunt Liu’s ointment, but the lesson had left a mark.

The girl’s condition was steadily improving. But if anything ever happened to him again, it would surely drag her down too.

Still, he didn’t see that as a burden of responsibility. More like ballast keeping him grounded while walking through a storm.

Holding her hand, he sat back down on the second-floor rattan chair. Naturally, the two of them began three simultaneous rounds of Go, with Li Zhuiyuan recounting the amusing events he’d encountered after leaving Shan City.

As he talked, his focus shifted to Yin Changsheng. The boy said with certainty that once he grew up, he would definitely go to Fengdu, hoping to meet the Emperor of Fengdu—whether immortal or corpse.

The girl rested her chin on her hand, smiling. His hopes were her hopes. If he found the future exciting, then she too could look forward to it.

"Who's that girl upstairs? My god, she's gorgeous."

Sure, there were plenty of kids who were cute but turned out plain as they grew. But Yin Meng didn’t think this girl would be one of them. Her features were far too flawless, and while appearance could change, temperament rarely did.

Runsheng said, “That’s Ah Li, surname Qin. But don’t get close—she doesn’t like strangers.”

Yin Meng asked, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

After their meal, the two sat in the courtyard assembling paper effigy frames. Yin Meng had made miniature coffins before, so this was even easier.

She even looked over to Li Sanjiang, who was smoking nearby, and said with a grin, “Grandpa Li, ever think about reopening a coffin shop? I can do it.”

Li Sanjiang flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it underfoot.

“No way. This line of work around here won’t last long.”

After a pause, he added, “But custom orders could work.”

Yin Meng responded heartily, “Sure, I’ll make one for you first!”

Li Sanjiang clapped. “Nice. I like it.”

Just then, Aunt Liu walked by. Li Sanjiang called out, “Hey, want me to get one made for your mother-in-law too?”

“For what? A coffin?”

“Yeah. Pick your own wood, made by one of us. Cheap and practical.”

“No need. Our family doesn’t do burials.”

Yin Meng suddenly looked up at her.

Aunt Liu continued, “We follow modern trends. Planning for cremation.”

Yin Meng looked down again and resumed her work.

“Alright then,” said Li Sanjiang. “Who else should I make one for? Maybe Shanpao?”

Runsheng brightened.

“Nope. Shanpao can’t even afford a meal, let alone a custom coffin.”

“I’ll deduct it from my wages.”

“Heh, I’m just messing with you. Even if he’s broke, I’d still gift him a coffin. He’s an orphan—no ancestral grave. He’ll be buried next to me. When I’m bored, I’ll have someone to chat with.”

“What do you say, Runshenghou?”

Runsheng said nothing. His grandfather used to curse Li Sanjiang behind his back all the time.

He’d say every time they went out to work, he did the suffering and took the heat while Li Sanjiang hogged the credit.

He said the worst mistake of his life was befriending Li Sanjiang. Next life, he’d steer far away from the old bastard.

If they ended up buried side by side, Runsheng feared his grandfather might rise from the grave in fury.

“Runshenghou! I’m talking to you!”

Even under pressure, Runsheng didn’t dare answer “sure.” Though Li Sanjiang was older than his grandfather, he had a sinking feeling his own grandfather would go first.

If he agreed now, once the old man died, there’d be no backing out.

Just then, Tan Wenbin emerged from behind the house, fastening his pants.

“Hey Grandpa Li, what’s so great about your family plot anyway? If you ask me, we should find a new feng shui hotspot. Might bring luck to future generations!

As for Grandpa Shan, unless he begs us, he’s not getting buried near us and stealing Little Yuan’s future fortune.”

“Exactly! No letting Shanpao score a freebie.”

Li Sanjiang stood up and waved. “Zhuangzhuang, come with me for a stroll. Let’s scout out some prime graves.”

“Alright, that’s important stuff! I’ll help you pick a good one.”

“Before we look at land, we’ve got to visit Blind Liu.”

“Of course! Got to get her to order one too. Granny Liu’s got money.”

The two walked off, chatting and laughing.

Yin Meng elbowed Runsheng. “I thought his name was Binbin. Why’d he call him Zhuangzhuang?”

“Sworn kin.”

“Then should I get adopted too?”

“Better keep working. Don’t slack off on those coffins.”

“Grandpa Li likes hardworking kids?”

Runsheng hesitated, thinking of what the old man usually called him.

“Grandpa likes mules.”

…

And so the days passed.

What Li Zhuiyuan had once only suspected, he now felt sure of—the one buried beneath the peach trees at Beardo’s place had changed the feng shui of not just their village, but the whole town.

Back then, Dead Sinkers had popped up like wild chives—one after another, impossible to keep up with.

But now? Not a peep for months. Folks almost missed them.

He figured it’d stay like this for years. Only once that entity fully dissipated would Dead Sinkers spring back to life like a thousand blooming weeds.

Still, even with no Dead Sinkers around, life felt full.

He hadn’t gone back to school, but his days ran like clockwork.

First thing each morning: admire Ah Li’s outfit for the day.

Then a few rounds of Go, followed by breakfast.

Most of the day, he spent reading.

He’d cracked about a third of the Qi Clan’s ancestral texts. Intentionally pacing himself, using only spare energy each day to decode them.

He’d finished the Yin family genealogy—truly fascinating.

It included not just their research on Yin Changsheng but many travelogues. Though it was all one family, passed down since the Eastern Han, it essentially documented countless Corpse Retrievers’ tales and techniques.

That grounded perspective helped him immensely. Wei Zhengdao’s writings were brilliant but a bit lofty and detached.

The bamboo slips had been restored, but Xue Liangliang insisted on delivering them personally, so he hadn’t seen them yet.

When not reading, he and Ah Li played Go, enjoyed the breeze, or engaged in their own little private games.

Nowadays, Li Zhuiyuan could calmly stand at the “Ah Li’s threshold” perspective, observing the “view.” No more delays or forced wake-ups. Minimal side effects—just a bit of dizziness.

Old man Yin Fuhai once called him “sturdy.” After all this training, he figured he’d grown even sturdier.

Still, he was only standing at the threshold. To go further, he’d have to cross it.

But that was too dangerous. He wasn’t grown yet—and didn’t want to die young playing with fire.

Yin Meng had slipped seamlessly into local life. She was a natural at making paper effigies and coffins, and often helped Runsheng deliver tables, chairs, and dishes for funerals.

She and Runsheng got along well.

Because Binbin had to attend school every day, he wasn’t home for breakfast, rushing off for morning study sessions.

He also skipped evening study. Otherwise, he’d practically never be seen at home.

At night, he trained martial arts with Yin Meng.

Family arts weren’t meant to be passed down lightly—but she was the last of the Yin line. Who else could decide?

Runsheng sometimes joined too. They were all now walking the path of the Yin family’s Corpse Retrievers—a proper lineage at last.

Historically, the Yin family’s path had probably been elite and difficult. But having declined early, their descendants had gradually simplified and adapted the teachings, preserving at least the basics.

The Qin family’s techniques remained high-tier—requiring strict, exclusive guidance. Only Li Zhuiyuan still practiced the breathing techniques.

Ever since Uncle Qin vanished, he hadn’t reappeared. Like a clean break, no lingering ties.

Every night, Yin Meng would teach first. Then Runsheng would pass on the moves he’d distilled from Li Zhuiyuan’s summaries of Wei Zhengdao’s teachings.

The Yin family laid the foundation. Wei Zhengdao set the ceiling.

At first, they trained on the second-floor terrace, but after being yelled at by Li Sanjiang for making too much noise, they moved to the fields.

Once again, proof that good materials plus good aptitude equals results.

Yin Meng had become swift and agile, executing moves with smooth control.

Runsheng was even scarier. Every punch and kick now carried a sonic whoosh. He used to rely on animal instincts—lunging and biting like a beast. Now, he moved with poise, like a wild animal in a tailored suit—more menacing than ever.

Tan Wenbin, training alongside them, could only drool with envy. His companions were improving at lightning speed, while he only managed some basic fitness gains.

Every night they sparred. Wenbin would pick a partner, get swiftly taken down, then watch the other two duel.

The only place he outshone them was during “Walking the Shade” lessons from Little Yuan. He picked it up faster than anyone.

Though Little Yuan forbade completing the final step, Wenbin had mastered everything up to that point. Meanwhile, Runsheng and Yin Meng still lagged behind.

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