No Corpses Tonight, Lin Shou Sews Up Living People

Hiss. Lin Shou's scalp crawled. This was a big problem.

He turned his head stiffly.

He met a pair of captivating cat-like eyes blinking back at him.

A thin black veil half-concealed pale, long legs as she stood gracefully. Her delicate, oval face was flawless like soft jade and fragrant ice, her eyes brimming with peach-blossom charm like autumn waters, her pink lips touched with rouge, and at the corner of her mouth, a vermilion beauty mole.

This woman, who stepped out of a painting like a beauty, was none other than the serial killer who had sliced off twelve scalps in the Capital City.

The Scalp-Cutter, Ning Luowei.

Ning Luowei stood before Lin Shou, asking with a smile:

"Sir, why didn't you save me?"

Hiss. Lin Shou's face now showed no change in expression, but his blood ran cold. His mind was full of the scene from the Lantern of Life, where this woman had cleanly sliced off the scalp of Corpse-Stitcher Number Six with one swift stroke.

He had already been on guard. The only door to the Corpse-Stitching Shop was locked tight. How had this Scalp-Cutter gotten in? Could she walk through walls?

In the night, Lin Shou caught a faint scent of blood from Ning Luowei, who stood right before him.

Subtle Perception, driven by survival instinct, operated at high intensity, gathering every piece of information around him for deduction. She had the smell of blood on her, had been caught in the middle of the night, and hadn't attacked him outright...

Subtle Perception listed several possibilities. Her coming to him wasn't random. If there was anything on him worth scheming for, besides his good looks, it was probably his skill.

The Beast-Making Art, Subtle Perception, and the Greed-Abstinence Silver were impossible for outsiders to know. That left only... the Corpse-Stitching Needle Technique?

"The corpses that leave this shop—did you stitch them all?"

Ning Luowei blinked her cat-like eyes and asked.

So it was for the Corpse-Stitching Needle Technique. Lin Shou steadied himself, feeling more grounded. His nose had already caught the scent of blood—she was injured.

Ning Luowei, like a cat, padded over to Lin Shou, lifted her hips, and sat down on the cold couch. Her pale, long legs crossed together, dangling right in front of Lin Shou. She was like a feline creature prowling through the night, her eyes especially captivating.

She was quite pretty, Lin Shou thought, watching the slender white legs sway before him. He wasn't embarrassed—he wasn't some inexperienced boy. He could even shamelessly stare, figuring if he wasn't awkward, she would be.

"Ahem..."

Ning Luowei tugged her robe down to cover her legs, her face flushing a little from his stare. She spat lightly. She usually didn't mind people looking at her—she knew she was beautiful and enjoyed the admiration and adoration her looks brought. But Lin Shou's gaze was a bit too intense.

Seeing that she had made Lin Shou stare her into embarrassment, Ning Luowei said, whether in anger or to save face:

"I'm pretty good-looking, aren't I?"

But unexpectedly, Lin Shou shook his head coldly:

"Average."

Ning Luowei was speechless! How could there be someone like this?! If she was average, why had he stared so long?! She couldn't understand the joy of a veteran freeloader from his past life who never liked videos.

Joking aside, it seemed Lin Shou wasn't aware of his current dangerous situation and dared to talk back. But that wasn't the case. Knowing Ning Luowei needed something from him, he was using this chance to subtly establish his own leverage through words, seeking a way out.

The art of negotiation—flattery and posturing were useless. Flatterers die badly, and posturing just makes you look like you think others are fools. The right method was to drag the other party down to your level, where you could use your rich experience to disgust them.

"I know you're skilled. I want you to stitch my wounds."

Ning Luowei cut straight to the point, turning her back to Lin Shou and opening her clothes to show him the injuries.

On her jade-like body, a hundred fresh, bloody wounds tore open horrifically, like a white-glazed ice-crack vase drenched in blood. Her entire body was covered in cracks, so fragile it seemed a touch would shatter it into pieces.

Tsk. Lin Shou had indeed sensed through Subtle Perception that Ning Luowei's breathing was unsteady and she smelled of blood, knowing she was injured. But he hadn't expected so many wounds, like she had suffered a Thousand Cuts. It was bloody and terrifying. He asked flatly:

"How did you get hurt?"

"Xue Ning of the Four Great Constables. As expected of the Six Fan School's top expert. When his unique sword technique, Thousand Cuts, is unleashed, no one below the master level can withstand it."

Lin Shou examined Ning Luowei's horrifying wounds, marveling inside. This was on a completely different level from the wounds on the Canal Gang porters' corpses he had stitched before.

Gang fights were indeed low-class. The Six Fan School and professional criminals like you really fought viciously!

"Are you afraid the scars will ruin your looks?"

Lin Shou said flatly, hitting the nail on the head. Wasn't that why she had come to him?

Ever since Lin Shou had practiced the Corpse-Stitching Needle Manual, his stitching technique had reached perfection. He could even stitch a cabbage back together seamlessly.

But using a butcher's knife to kill a chicken, Lin Shou had always used it on corpses. In this era, education was scarce, and common folk were uneducated and rough. Not only did they rarely dare to look at corpses, but even those who noticed would at most praise the young master's skill, saying the stitches looked as good as new. Who cared?

But the rough folk didn't care; those who did care existed, like the one who had come knocking today.

Everyone loves beauty, especially beautiful women.

What woman would be willing to have a body covered in ugly, centipede-like scars? Among all the clinics Ning Luowei had visited, not a single doctor dared to claim they could stitch her wounds without leaving scars. At best, they offered her condolences.

Her only hope of preserving her beauty was this corpse-stitcher, Lin Shou, whose technique had reached perfection.

"Can you stitch me well? I don't want to carry these ugly scars for the rest of my life."

Ning Luowei blinked her cat-like eyes at Lin Shou, her tone softening a little. It was clear she cared deeply about this.

Tsk. A good doctor was indeed in high demand in any era, Lin Shou mused.

He stayed silent, letting Ning Luowei stew for a while until she grew restless, then said:

"I only stitch the dead, not the living."

"Isn't it all stitching people? What's the big difference?"

"Dead people don't sue for malpractice even if you stitch them badly."

"..."

Ning Luowei was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You could give it a try... even if it's not perfect, it's fine. As long as you do your best to stitch me up..."

Without realizing it, Ning Luowei began lowering her own demands, compromising with Lin Shou. She truly had no one else to turn to—only this corpse-stitcher in the Capital City had the skill that gave her a glimmer of hope.

The Corpse-Stitching Shop fell silent for a long while. Ning Luowei watched Lin Shou lower his head in thought, assuming he was considering her request, unaware that he was actually just spacing out and leaving her hanging. After enduring an agonizingly long wait, she finally heard a single sentence:

"Lie down."

Hearing Lin Shou's agreement, Ning Luowei nodded happily and obediently lay down on the cold slab, like a fish on a chopping board.

Lin Shou fetched a pair of fish-skin gloves and put them on, but after glancing at the density of wounds on Ning Luowei's body, he took the gloves off again. He pulled out two jars of wine and, while preparing, asked casually:

"Are you a wanted criminal of the court? Were you the one who scalped those twelve people in the Capital City?"

"I'm just an assassin carrying out my master's orders to slay vile villains."

Ning Luowei lay on the cold slab, the chill seeping into her skin. Having just narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Four Great Constables, her tightly wound nerves finally began to relax, and she couldn't help venting a little, speaking from the heart:

"In the jianghu, there are always things beyond your control..."

Hearing Ning Luowei's complaint, Lin Shou cast her a surprised glance, then continued pouring wine to wash and disinfect his hands, soaking the sutures, and sterilizing the golden stitching needle over a candle flame.

"Let me be clear upfront—I've only stitched dead people, never the living. If I mess you up, don't come crying to me."

"As long as you do your best to stitch me, good or bad, it's the rule of the jianghu—a favor must be repaid."

"Stitching is stitching, don't try to pin anything on me. If you can just leave after I'm done, that's fine. I don't need your repayment."

Lin Shou shook his head as he spoke, his preparations now complete. He picked up the stitching needle, ready to begin.

Tonight, there was no corpse. He was going to stitch a living person.