Bureau of Corpse Management Announces Grave Robber's Corpse

The sun was high, by the wall of Qingcheng Teahouse.

A group of Heavenly Cripples and Earthly Maimed sat there, listening to storytelling through the wall as usual.

"Gentlemen, listening to tales again, are you?"

Lin Shou brought two bags of steaming hot sugar-roasted chestnuts, handing them out one by one to the corpse-stitchers.

"Fresh from the first batch, new sugar glaze. Eat them while they're hot, the skins peel easy."

The old and young fellows didn't stand on ceremony—if offered, they ate.

Common folk in these times had no room for false politeness; it was an age of material scarcity. Toss a worn-out bedroll on the street, and before you could blink, someone would've snatched it up.

Lin Shou's gaze swept over the group. A few new faces, a few familiar ones missing. Old Blind Man from Shop Number One was still there, as always—he lived the longest, a real evergreen.

Lin Shou sat down against the wall too, eating chestnuts with them, chatting casually. As the conversation flowed, he tucked his real questions into the talk, steering it toward recent events:

"Gentlemen, listening to our corpse-stitching shops—has there been a lot of deaths lately, or what?"

"No kidding, three dead already. Who knows what cursed thing they stitched up."

"I know a bit. Don't spread it around if I tell you."

"What is it?"

"Little Fifteen died last night. Yesterday afternoon, I happened to see an officer from the Bureau of Corpse Management looking for him, telling him to go to the bureau that evening."

"He didn't stitch any corpse last night, did he? Then how'd he die?"

"Little Eighteen, who died the day before yesterday—I also happened to hear an officer telling him to go to the bureau that evening."

"What's that supposed to mean? So none of the three died from stitching corpses? Then why? You're freaking me out here."

"Are the officers out to get us? Can't be. That bird was still squawking loudly at night."

Lin Shou had started the thread, and the corpse-stitchers chatted about it, one word after another. Lin Shou got his intel.

All three corpse-stitchers hadn't been in their shops the day they died; they'd been called away by clerks from the Bureau of Corpse Management.

Just as they were talking, a clerk from the bureau happened to walk over from a distance. The corpse-stitchers immediately shut up, pretending to listen to the story.

But the clerk came straight for Lin Shou and said:

"Number Nine, come to the Bureau of Corpse Management after sunset today. Bring your stitching kit."

The clerk turned and left after speaking, apparently just there to deliver the message to Lin Shou.

The corpse-stitchers were dumbfounded. Speak of the devil.

They'd just been talking about how three corpse-stitchers had died over three consecutive days after being called to the bureau at night.

And now Lin Shou was the fourth.

"Little Nine, while it's still light out, you can still flee the city. Run for it. Three are already dead."

One of the kinder corpse-stitchers said this, urging Lin Shou to escape.

The others didn't look too good either—not that they all cared about Lin Shou out of kindness, but they were thinking of the fox mourning the hare. If Lin Shou died, would they be next?

Lin Shou himself frowned, mulling it over. Subtle Perception wove the clues together in his mind.

"Gentlemen, I'll head back first."

Lin Shou stood up, patted the dust off his pants, and strode away. The corpse-stitchers assumed he was going to run.

Some sighed at the bad luck of running into this; others wondered if reporting Lin Shou's escape attempt to the bureau might earn them a pardon and spare them.

As for Lin Shou now, he certainly wasn't planning to flee.

After leaving the teahouse, he headed straight for the Bureau of Corpse Management.

Black Tortoise Ward, Bureau of Corpse Management.

Lin Shou looked at the high walls and grand courtyard. Next door was the Imperial Medical Academy—those beyond saving were sent straight over. Encoffining, corpse storage, funeral processions, burial, the seventh-day rites—a full package.

Black Tortoise Ward was far more bustling than Caishikou. Caishikou was where common folk gathered; this was a high-end commercial district, frequented by Capital City gentry and wealthy merchants, the middle class and petty bourgeoisie.

The streets were busy with people. Lin Shou glanced around and spotted a beggar, ragged and filthy, in the middle of begging.

The beggar trade was the lowest threshold in the underworld—just grab a bowl and you're in business. But because the bar was so low, there were countless of them, scattered all over the Capital City, on every street. They'd sit with a bowl all day, and the more theatrical ones would wail and sob, waiting for some generous soul to toss them a meal.

Though they were an eyesore, they were like sentry posts across the city. Sitting idle every day, watching the comings and goings on their street, they saw all the big and small happenings. If you wanted to know something, asking them was a sure bet.

"Were you here last night too?"

Lin Shou wore a big straw hat. He crouched down, pulling the brim low to hide his face, and asked the beggar.

The beggar looked up at Lin Shou, then nudged his bowl forward.

Lin Shou dropped a copper coin in.

The beggar beamed. "Right here all night, sir."

"Did you see anyone coming or going from the Bureau of Corpse Management last night?"

The beggar nudged his bowl again.

Lin Shou had no choice but to toss in another copper coin.

"Yes, sir, there is."

Lin Shou clicked his tongue. What kind of answer was that? Did he ask for a simple "there is"?

"I told you to elaborate on who came and went."

The beggar shifted his bowl again, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Sir, may you prosper, may you prosper."

Lin Shou dropped in another copper. By now, his mood had soured considerably, and it was hard to say what would happen if the beggar kept pulling stunts.

"Well, sir, last night, a corpse stitcher went in..."

"And then?"

Lin Shou frowned. The beggar had only said half of it.

The beggar laughed and nudged his bowl again, begging for a reward.

Lin Shou narrowed his eyes. This beggar was insatiably greedy, pushing further and further. Seeing that Lin Shou gave generously, he'd been asking for money after every sentence, and now he was splitting one sentence into two to beg twice?

Clang! A large silver ingot landed in the beggar's bowl.

The beggar was stunned. He quickly grabbed the silver, stuffed it into his clothes like a treasure, and glanced around furtively with a thief's eyes. Seeing no one watching, his face twisted into a grin like a chrysanthemum.

"Sir, may you live long and prosper! May your wealth multiply!"

"Spare me the useless crap. Answer what I asked."

"After that, the corpse stitcher walked in upright and was carried out lying down, sent to the Public Mortuary for storage."

"You saw the corpse?"

The beggar's face was full of sycophantic smiles as he pushed his bowl forward again, utterly shameless. "Sir, may you prosper, may you prosper."

Lin Shou chuckled. I was just worried you couldn't handle it.

Last time, two taels of Greed-Abstinence Silver had turned Wang Er into something neither human nor ghost. Now this beggar had such a big appetite.

Clang! Clang!

Two more large silver ingots!

"Oh my! You're my own grandpa!"

The beggar threw himself to the ground, covering the two silver ingots with his body. His eyes turned green, gleaming with greed as he said:

"I saw it, I saw it. The face was covered in bloody scratches, like a ghost had clawed it. Terrifying, it was."

When the beggar finished speaking and looked up again, the wealthy patron was already gone.

With so much Greed-Abstinence Silver in hand, the beggar naturally suffered greatly in the following days. By the time he was worn down enough, he found the silver had gone missing.

When he tried to recall who had rewarded him that day and why, the memory was already gone, as if burned clean by a fire.

As for Lin Shou, the information he got from the beggar basically matched what he had deduced with Subtle Perception. He could now confirm what had happened.

For three consecutive days, corpse stitchers had been summoned into the Bureau of Corpse Management and had died one after another. It was likely because they had to finish stitching the corpse of that grave robber who bit people's wrists!

Tonight, it was Lin Shou's turn.