Chapter 40.2: Thousand Songs

That afternoon run really sped up his digestion.

Last time Brother Liangliang told him about going to Baijia Town, he’d mentioned the twin lanterns hanging from the town’s stone arch.

They weren’t just for decoration—red stood for the living, white for ghostly dealings. Red and white lanterns hung high, neither belonging to the realm of the living nor the dead.

Baijia Town had them because of its special status. The Bai Family Matrons existed in a liminal state—neither fully human nor fully ghost.

The Water Monkeys did it too. It was a tradition of their sect, a symbolic act for smooth sailing—peace for the living, no disturbance from the dead.

Still, it gave Li Zhuiyuan a new idea.

When he got home, Runsheng had already packed the array flags and corpse retrieval tools in a white plastic tarp. He also had a binding strap slung across his torso.

Li Zhuiyuan knew that was for tying him up before they entered the water.

"Runsheng-ge, the plan's changed. I found a better way to get in."

"Huh? Xiaoyuan, what are you thinking?"

"The most dangerous place is the safest. Since they’ve got lookouts posted around the perimeter, why don’t we just stop thinking about going out and coming back in?"

"Still not following." Runsheng shook his head.

"I kind of get it, but keep going," said Tan Wenbin, resting his chin in his hand, eyes thoughtful.

Li Zhuiyuan tilted his head toward him. Runsheng caught the signal, lifted Tan Wenbin straight up, dragged him to the workshop behind the house, and tied his hands and feet with rope.

"No, no, you can’t do this! Xiaoyuan-ge, you promised to tell me everything!"

"I am telling you now."

Li Zhuiyuan squatted down in front of Tan Wenbin and explained everything about the Water Monkeys and the main tomb, in full detail.

When he finished, Tan Wenbin’s face lit up with uncontainable excitement. "That’s insane!"

Then he wiggled his bound hands and feet. "But what are you guys doing to me?"

"Binbin-ge, what does your grandpa do?"

"Police officer. My grandpa on my mom’s side too."

"And what do you plan to do when you grow up?"

"Anything but that. I’m not being a cop."

"Don’t say that. People talk nonsense when they're going through their rebellious phase. You’re definitely gonna be a cop too."

"I so am not—"

"Muffle him."

"Mmmph mmmph!"

Runsheng expertly gagged Tan Wenbin.

"Runsheng-ge, did you hear what Binbin just said?"

"He said he doesn’t—"

"He said, in the future, he’s definitely going to be a police officer."

"Oh, right, that’s exactly what he said."

"Legacy of law enforcement."

Li Zhuiyuan leaned in and hugged Tan Wenbin.

No time to go to the police station and hug a plaque, but hugging you is good luck too.

After Li Zhuiyuan stood up, Runsheng came over and gave him a hard squeeze, making Tan Wenbin’s eyes roll back.

"Binbin-ge, this is for your safety. Next time we meet a kinder Dead Sinker, we’ll take you along."

"Exactly," Runsheng echoed. "People are way more dangerous than Dead Sinkers."

Then Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng packed their gear into a lantern cover and carried it over to the bearded man's house.

The first batch had already finished eating, and the second batch was digging in.

Li Sanjiang and Ding Dalin were still drinking. When Runsheng arrived, Li Sanjiang waved him over.

"Go help them hang it up."

"On it, Uncle."

They went up to the second floor, where there was a ladder next to an open panel that led to the roof.

After setting the ladder, they hauled up the equipment. Runsheng began stringing and lighting the lanterns one by one.

Red on the east side, white on the west.

Once done, Li Zhuiyuan said, "Runsheng-ge, I’ll go move the ladder back down. You stay up here and be ready."

"No need, Xiaoyuan."

Runsheng suddenly leapt down, hooked the edge with his feet, and swung down.

He grabbed the ladder, swung it back against the wall, then used his waist to propel himself back up, inching up with his hands and closing the panel. The whole maneuver was seamless.

Li Zhuiyuan could only marvel again at Runsheng’s insane physical prowess.

But that was talent—no use being jealous.

What about Uncle Qin’s gills? Were those natural or trained?

Lately, with his breathing exercises and horse stance training, Li Zhuiyuan felt he’d made real progress. Yet all that grinding might only bring him to the starting line of someone else’s natural gift.

For a moment, resentment bubbled up. Why should geniuses get it so easy?

"Xiaoyuan, what if they come up to check?"

"Runsheng-ge, there’s always a chance."

"True."

These rooftops weren’t designed for people to hang out on. Unless there was a leak, nobody would come up.

Most of it was covered in red tiles, bordered by low concrete walls too short to squat behind. So they lay flat.

Runsheng stayed near the panel with his Yellow River Spade.

That spade had been modified by Li Zhuiyuan—bigger, heavier, and with a longer cutting edge.

If no one came, fine. But if a Water Monkey popped up, they’d be met with a solid blow from Runsheng’s spade.

Li Zhuiyuan lightly placed a hand on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat.

He was nervous, yes, but more than that—he was thrilled.

Binbin-ge, I wasn’t lying. This really is fun.

I didn’t bring you because I don’t want to increase the odds of something going wrong. I want to keep playing this game.

Every so often, he’d lift his head a little. From his angle, he had a clear view of the fishpond and the stage next to it.

Gradually, the second round of guests finished, and the crowd dispersed.

He heard Li Sanjiang’s voice, drunk and clinging to Ding Dalin. "Brothers for life!"

Clearly, Ding Dalin was humoring him, and finally got him to leave.

Normally the chefs and helpers would eat last, but they got red envelopes and were allowed to take leftovers. Everyone left happy.

The once noisy feast quieted down.

The loudspeakers and sound system on the stage kept blaring.

The funeral troupe came down—not to clean up, but to check the grounds.

Secretary Jin raised a flashlight, turning in slow circles.

Soon, six lookout points lit up in response, including one right above a haystack by the river.

Li Zhuiyuan winced. In the original plan, he and Runsheng would’ve hidden in that haystack after surfacing. That would’ve been a deathtrap.

Footsteps echoed from the second-floor balcony. Someone was checking the rooms.

Li Zhuiyuan glanced at Runsheng, who was listening through the floor with one ear, Yellow River Spade at the ready.

The footsteps faded. Through a drainage hole in the low wall, Li Zhuiyuan saw people gathering in the yard below.

They’d checked everything and skipped the roof. Hiding in plain sight worked.

Ding Dalin now wore a bright yellow Taoist robe, peachwood sword in hand.

A makeshift altar was set up with candles and offerings.

He began the ritual—quick and efficient, unlike Li Sanjiang, who tended to dramatize things for the family’s peace of mind.

But to be fair, Ding Dalin’s technique and bearing were far more professional.

Like the difference between Secretary Jin’s singing and Little Oriole’s.

Li Zhuiyuan rubbed his temples. Why was he making weird comparisons?

When the ritual ended, Ding Dalin didn’t remove the robe but swapped the sword for a large purple compass.

It was lavishly engraved, with rings denoting time zones like a fancy hotel clock.

Li Zhuiyuan pressed his lips. Compared to that, his homemade one was a joke—still needed mental math to calibrate.

Secretary Jin led ten Water Monkeys, all kneeling on one knee before Ding Dalin.

Ding Dalin raised his hand, eyes on the compass.

"The auspicious hour has arrived. Begin!"

They all raised one hand and chanted in unison, then dispersed.

Water burials had a lower risk of accidental discovery but were harder and more dangerous to rob. So rituals weren’t just for show—they boosted morale.

From under the stage came various tools—two water pumps and a diesel generator, plus what looked like winch rings and frame parts.

Tech advanced, and so did the Water Monkeys’ methods.

The loudspeaker masked the pump’s noise. The hoses led to the river, and the fishpond’s water began to drop visibly.

Runsheng scooted over—no need to guard the panel anymore.

"Xiaoyuan, let me know when it’s time to plant the flags."

"Not yet."

They’d wait for Little Oriole to clash with the Water Monkeys. Only in that chaos could they slip away and set things up.

As the pond drained, its muddy bottom and dead fish and crabs emerged.

The Water Monkeys laughed, sensing they were close.

But Li Zhuiyuan knew: if a Dead Sinker lived in this pond, nothing in it would survive. This wasn't caused by the main tomb.

Five Water Monkeys, suited up in waterproof gear, stabbed extendable rods into the muck, extracting core samples.

Ding Dalin sat by the pond, compass aside. Now he held a wooden spoon and a ceramic bowl.

Each soil sample went into his bowl. He tasted them one by one.

"Damn, Xiaoyuan, he’s eating dirt."

"Yeah, I see."

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t get why Runsheng was so shocked. Eating dirt was weird, but better than eating incense grease.

There were no written records of this, but Li Zhuiyuan figured it was for geolocation.

Ding Dalin kept shaking his head—five times—before finally nodding.

He pointed to a spot. They started digging.

After excavating a pit, they hammered in steel plates with interlocking edges.

Tied ropes to it, hooked it to a winch, and cranked it.

A chunk of earth was dragged out of the pond.

Excavators were too conspicuous. This did the job just fine—and could even pry open a tomb later.

Digging a traditional robber tunnel took too long unless they had a month-long feast.

They weren’t avoiding explosives out of kindness—just no conditions for it.

Even this method would wreck the tomb.

They just wanted to grab the most valuable stuff and bolt—fence it overseas.

With the plates and manpower, they quickly formed a deep hole.

Good thing they were on the roof. From anywhere else, they wouldn’t see these details.

Runsheng whispered, "Xiaoyuan, is Little Oriole not home?"

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. "She should be. I sensed her listening to the opera earlier."

"You think… maybe she saw all these guys show up and got scared off?"

"..."

Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t sure. The Water Monkeys had made it this far, and nothing unusual had happened.

Strange Records of the Jianghu had said Dead Sinkers acted on instinct—but the advanced ones could develop intelligence.

These Monkeys were skilled and numerous. Avoiding confrontation made sense.

Still, he didn’t believe Little Oriole had just run away.

"We found it! It’s here!"

Down in the pit, helmet lights flashed. Excited shouts echoed.

Li Zhuiyuan saw a dome shape emerging.

The mud obscured its color, but the shape resembled a temple spire.

His heart lurched.

This wasn’t an ordinary water tomb.

In water burials, the most taboo and dangerous were temple tombs.

They were built to seal away something foul.

Other tombs rarely caused problems. These nearly always did.

Just like when they unearthed the Bai Family Matron statue at the River Engineering Dept.—meant to suppress evil.

The moment its chains were smashed, strange things happened that very night.

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