Chapter 77.2: The Spirit by the Lake

Tan Wenbin stepped out with his washbasin and returned a while later, grinning as he opened the door.

“A sophomore just now wouldn’t stop asking me at the sink if you’re really a student. Nice guy, name’s Lu Yi, from Harbin. He even gave me a red sausage.”

He took a bite. “Mm, tastes legit.”

“You’ve had red sausage before?”

“Nope. But the first time I tasted one, that flavor got locked in. So now, that’s what I call authentic.”

“He didn’t go home for the holidays?”

“No, he stayed behind to tutor. Says his hometown’s pretty remote—hard to find students there.”

Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin headed to the discount shop. The inventory had been sorted last night, and business was slow this morning, so they left Aunt Sun to watch the store and took the bus out together.

Noticing the oversized backpack on Runsheng’s back, Tan Wenbin asked, “All that water, Runsheng?”

Bringing your own water before hitting tourist spots—or buying it outside the gates—was a shared memory for many Chinese travelers.

Water inside the park was overpriced. As for food... well, no sane person would want to pay those prices.

“Found a lot of near-expired and just-past-expired snacks last night. Figured I’d bring them along. I eat a lot, and outside food’s expensive anyway—better to finish these off.”

“Come on, Runsheng. You’re a co-owner now. Gotta show some flair.”

Runsheng patted his backpack. “These are all good snacks. Stuff I could never have as a kid. Never imagined I’d one day eat my fill of junk food.”

After getting off the bus, they stopped at a duck-blood vermicelli shop for breakfast.

Then they hit several tourist spots, with Li Zhuiyuan handling all the commentary. By the time evening rolled in, his throat was hoarse.

No choice. Anyone can admire natural landscapes with their eyes, but historical sites are meaningless without someone to explain the story. Otherwise, it’s just a walk-through and a letdown.

They caught the last bus back to campus and had dinner at “Old Sichuan” before splitting up at the gate.

Runsheng returned to the shop but didn’t see Aunt Sun. He was carrying a pack of brown sugar glutinous rice cakes he’d brought back for her.

“Maybe she’s downstairs,” Yin Meng said as she tied up her hair and began sweeping the floor.

Runsheng went down to the basement and knocked on Aunt Sun’s room. No response. The lights were off—she wasn’t there.

He returned to his room and noticed the dog cage was empty.

After searching around, he finally found the black dog curled into a trembling ball under the bed.

Gone was its usual lazy demeanor. Its eyes were wide and glossy. It was shaking all over.

Without a word, Runsheng walked over to his luggage and pulled out the Yellow River Spade.

Upstairs, Yin Meng heard the scrape of a stool. With no classes in session and no rehearsals planned, the second floor should’ve been empty.

She called toward the stairs, “Aunt Sun? Is that you up there?”

No answer. But the scraping grew louder.

She climbed up. The lights were off, but moonlight filtered in through the windows, and she could just make out a figure dancing.

The figure danced with wild abandon, knocking over nearby chairs.

The light switch was at the stairwell. She reached out.

“Snap!”

The lights came on.

The figure vanished.

The vast wooden-floored dance room was empty.

Footsteps behind her—Yin Meng whirled around and let out a breath when she saw Runsheng.

He walked up, Yellow River Spade in hand. As he passed her, he said, “Little Black saw something. It’s scared stiff.”

That chilled Yin Meng.

Runsheng stepped into the center of the room and scanned the space.

Yin Meng followed. “I heard chairs moving, came up, and saw someone dancing. When I turned on the light, they vanished.”

“You think it was a living person?”

She shook her head. “No way someone could disappear that fast in front of us.”

Setting aside their work as Corpse Retrievers, both were trained fighters now. Their observational skills far exceeded ordinary people.

“Let’s go tell Little Yuan.”

“Mm.”

Just as they descended the stairs, Aunt Sun came in with a thermal container.

“Hey, what timing! The dorm manager from Building 9 invited me over for tangyuan. I figured the shop couldn’t be left unattended too long, so I brought some back. Come on, let’s eat.”

She moved to the counter and opened the container.

Runsheng looked at Yin Meng, gesturing for her to fetch Little Yuan while he stayed.

She shook her head. It wasn’t proper for her to enter the boys’ dorm. He should go; she’d stay.

Runsheng’s eyes were firm. It’s easy for you to get in.

Years of training together meant no lack of understanding. Their silent exchange was quick and clear.

With no choice, Yin Meng darted out.

Aunt Sun blinked. “Huh? Where’d she go?”

“She’s bringing something to a friend of ours.”

“Let’s eat first, then. Tangyuan don’t sit well when they’re left too long.”

“I brought you some rice cakes. They’re downstairs. I’ll go grab them.”

“No need. This is enough. Too much food at night isn’t good for digestion.”

“Alright, then.”

Runsheng walked behind the counter and placed the spade on a chair.

“You brought a spade with you?”

“Some plaster came off the wall. I was gonna scrape it down and repaint.”

“That spade’s got quite the design. Where’d you get it?”

“Brought it from home.”

“Oh, no wonder. Come on, try one.” Aunt Sun opened the container and handed him a spoon. “Taste our local tangyuan.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“The dorm manager’s birthday in Building 9.”

“Oh.”

Runsheng nodded and took the spoon—but didn’t dig in.

Instead, he pulled a thick stick of incense from a tin box and lit it.

“You smoking a cigar?”

“It’s incense.” Since they’d be working together long-term, Runsheng didn’t bother hiding the habit.

“Incense?”

“It’s a thing I do when I eat. Grew up this way—can’t change it.”

“Odd little habit. But I’ve heard some kids even eat wall plaster. Yours is cleaner, at least.”

Suddenly, a flash of white light—lightning.

Followed by a crack of thunder.

Rain started to fall, and wind blew in from the door.

“This weather’s unpredictable,” Aunt Sun said. “One minute dry, next minute thunderstorm. Hurry and eat, give it a try.”

But Runsheng didn’t lower the spoon. He was staring at the incense he’d just lit.

Wind roared in from outside, rustling his hair and flipping pages on the counter.

But the incense flame stayed still—upright and undisturbed.

He looked up.

Above him—

A pair of feet hung in the air.

…

“Thanks for today, Little Yuan. Want a soda?”

“You have it, Binbin.”

“Oh, right. You don’t like sweet stuff. I’ll brew some tea… Hold on, I think my mom packed some of my dad’s fancy tea… Ha, found it.”

Tan Wenbin brewed a cup and set it on Li Zhuiyuan’s desk.

“Try it.”

Li Zhuiyuan took a sip and nodded.

“Well?” Tan Wenbin asked.

“Your dad’s clean.”

“Uh… hahaha!” Tan Wenbin burst out laughing, wiping away tears. “Then tomorrow I’ll get you something better.”

“No need.”

In a few days, Granny Liu should be appearing around campus.

There was no such thing as good or bad tea, only preference. And Li Zhuiyuan was used to Granny Liu’s flavor. Trouble was, that flavor was ridiculously expensive.

What passed for rare treasure among the neighborhood elders—savored in communal tea parties—was just daily fare in Granny Liu’s house.

“Boom!”

“Oh boy, here comes the rain.”

Tan Wenbin went to shut the window and gather the laundry.

Just then, from the hallway came the sound:

Click… click… click…

High heels.

Tan Wenbin’s ears perked up. He turned and signaled frantically to Li Zhuiyuan with a “shush,” even though the boy hadn’t moved from his desk.

He rolled across the floor, grabbed the Yellow River Spade, and crept toward the door—just as the footsteps stopped right outside.

A shift. The heel turned, as if facing the door.

“Binbin…”

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