Chapter 36.3: One Night Back to Liberation

Li Zhuiyuan leaned in to sniff, but couldn't detect anything. Still, he trusted Runsheng’s judgment—seasoned corpse retrievers were uncannily sensitive to the stench of water-corpses.

“Could it be those two outsiders?”

“No idea. When we got there, all four were badly hurt. This thing was just lying by the pond.”

“You did well, Brother Runsheng.”

“Ah... I thought you’d scold me for taking something.”

“This isn’t just any old thing.”

It was an old replica of a Yellow River Spade, still reeking faintly of water-corpses. That stench practically confirmed it: this was the kind of tool used by Water Monkeys.

Water Monkeys were underwater thieves. If spotted during a heist, they’d often drag witnesses underwater to silence them. Stories of Water Monkeys hunting for ghost-substitutes were widespread.

“Xiaoyuan, is it useful?”

“Yes, Brother Runsheng. If you ever smell something like that again, make sure to tell me right away.”

“Will do, no problem.”

“Oh, right—Brother Runsheng, play a few hands of cards with me.”

“What? Cards?” Runsheng remembered that scene at the clan hall, Xiaoyuan dominating like some reincarnation of Gambling God Ko Chun.

“Just a few rounds, no money.”

There was an opened deck in the drawer. Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng sat facing each other, Runsheng dealing. Simple rules—three-card showdowns. After twenty rounds, Runsheng won eight, Li Zhuiyuan twelve.

They switched; Li Zhuiyuan dealt. Twenty more rounds—this time, he won nine, Runsheng eleven.

It seemed that peculiar stroke of luck he'd been riding... had vanished.

But what had he paid in exchange?

Li Zhuiyuan sat, absently fidgeting with the cards. He kept waiting for a big win—but it never came.

Forget it. He’d try again with Runsheng in the morning. If the win-loss ratio still looked normal, he’d be free to leave the house.

…

East Wing.

Aunt Liu was combing Liu Yumei’s hair, sighing. “Xiaoyuan's household registration is moved here now. Poor child, fate’s dealt him a cruel hand.”

“A cruel hand? He probably doesn’t even feel it.”

“He’s still a kid. Doesn’t understand.”

“Tingting, you’ve talked to him—do you really think he’s just a kid?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“For most folks, a blow like this ruins their whole life.

“But rules and ladders are made for ordinary people. For real geniuses, they’re nothing.

“In peaceful times, they climb whenever they want—plenty of ways to do it, ways we normals can’t even envy.”

“You’re right. That’s true.”

“But it’s for the best. I used to worry he’d leave after summer break. Looks like he’ll stay a while longer.”

“Did Xiaoyuan say anything about Ah Li’s illness?”

“He said he has a way, but he needs to read up.”

“What kind of way?”

“Let’s wait and see. We’re old. Young people’s ways are beyond us.”

…

The next morning, Li Zhuiyuan woke and glanced toward the door. The chair there was still empty.

“Sigh…”

After washing up, he read for a bit. Still no sign of Ah Li at breakfast.

After eating, he dragged Runsheng into another round of cards. The win-loss ratio was balanced.

At last, he could relax. He could leave the house again.

…

“Morning, Captain Tan.”

“Morning, Captain Tan.”

“Morning to you all.”

Tan Yunlong rode into the station on his motorcycle in plain clothes, greeting coworkers along the way.

It was already midmorning. He’d taken the morning off to visit his son’s school. Summer break was short for soon-to-be seniors, and classes had resumed. His son got into a fight last night—almost a full-blown brawl.

But Tan hadn’t scolded him. The boy was defending a bullied classmate.

Tan never stressed about grades. If his son didn’t make it into a top university, so be it—what mattered was character.

That was why, during his job transfer, he’d insisted on moving his son to a school near the station, even if it meant arguing with his wife. He needed to keep an eye on the boy.

Years as a cop had taught him: if you don’t raise your child right, no amount of education means anything.

Colleagues kept greeting him warmly. Despite recent violent crimes in the district, the investigations had been swift. He’d even earned a commendation.

The station chief hinted it was a good time to pull some strings and transfer back to the city. But Tan showed no interest—he liked it here in the township station.

He opened his office door—and paused, surprised, before smiling and closing it behind him.

He poured tea and handed a cup to the boy waiting inside.

The boy unwrapped something from newspaper at his feet: a spade.

Artifacts unearthed from underground belonged to the state. Illegally taking or selling them, often through foreign channels, was a crime. Reporting them was the right thing to do.

After hearing the boy’s brief explanation, Tan Yunlong stepped out to arrange a police presence at the hospital ward. Then he returned, noting how Li Zhuiyuan sipped tea without putting the cup down.

“Looks like you need a favor from me.”

“Yes, Uncle Tan. I’d like your help registering for school. Here’s my file.”

Tan flipped through the documents. “What is this arrangement?”

“I want to go back to school.”

“Alright, I’ll contact the town elementary. What grade were you in before?” He squinted at the academic records. “Youth Class—was that elementary? And this university name… wow. You were at the affiliated school of this college?”

“I want to skip grades.”

“To sixth grade? I know schools in Beijing have great resources, but kids here are no slouches either.”

“No—I want to go to twelfth grade.”

“Huh? Twelfth… what?” Tan stared at him. “You serious?”

“Uncle Tan, just help me file the paperwork. I’ll handle the tests myself.”

Li Zhuiyuan knew the jump-grade policies. Many of his old classmates had done it.

“For real?” Tan perked up. “With your tone, if the college entrance exam were happening now, you’d probably sit for it.”

“No, I want to stay here a while longer. I don’t want to leave yet.”

“Alright. I’ll help. But to avoid any embarrassment, you’re having dinner at my house tonight. My son’s a rising senior too.”

“Tonight won’t work. Tomorrow or the day after is fine.”

Tan, now half-convinced, asked, “You one of those child prodigies?”

Li Zhuiyuan hesitated. A more accurate label might be "sick child."

“Then why’d you take up that job?” Tan gestured vaguely—he meant corpse retrieval.

This time, Li Zhuiyuan’s answer was firm:

“It’s fun. It’s interesting.”

“If that’s really who you are, you should be studying. Serving the country.”

“Aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant. Alright, tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up—I know where you live.”

“Okay.” Li Zhuiyuan stood and bowed. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Tan stood too, walked over, and ruffled his hair. “No, thank you.”

Before noon, Li Zhuiyuan rode home on Runsheng’s tricycle.

At home, a few bricklayers were working on a room extension.

Aunt Liu grinned and told him:

“Your great-grandpa asked what was going on. I said you wanted a workshop, and he just nodded and gave me money. I turned it down, told him we already had enough.

“He asked where the money came from. I said Runsheng won it gambling.”

“Heh heh.”

Runsheng gave a sheepish grin.

Li Zhuiyuan turned to him and said, “Brother Runsheng, better run.”

“Huh?”

A figure burst from the main house, wielding a cane used for paper effigies, charging at Runsheng:

“You little punk! Gambling like that hayseed cousin of yours! I’ll beat you to death!”

Runsheng fled, Great-grandpa in hot pursuit.

The two circled the field in front of the dam.

Li Zhuiyuan thought to himself: Great-grandpa’s got some stamina.

His cold had cleared up, no more bird droppings lately. Maybe solving his own luck issue had helped Great-grandpa too.

He looked toward the East Wing. Ah Li was still sitting behind the threshold, motionless, like a delicate statue.

Without her around, reading really was just reading.

Liu Yumei gave him a look, signaling him to try connecting with Ah Li again.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t go. Instead, he headed upstairs.

Only a little left of The Liu Clan’s Art of Observing Qi.

He’d been burning the midnight oil lately to speed up progress.

Downstairs, Liu Yumei stared at the staircase, a familiar frustration rising. Once she’d felt jealous of her granddaughter’s closeness with the boy—now, she wished they’d be inseparable again.

But the boy did nothing but read. Couldn’t he at least try? Girls needed coaxing.

Ah Li had never had another playmate. Liu Yumei refused to believe her granddaughter had no feelings left for him.

After lunch, Li Zhuiyuan resumed reading. By afternoon, he’d finished the book.

He leaned back in the rattan chair, racing to consolidate its teachings.

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