Master Ning Scratches Your Scalp

Bureau of Corpse Management.

"Hmm? Not dead?"

Sun Xianfu, Lord Sun, had just removed his official hat after returning from the morning court session when he heard a report from a clerk in the bureau.

Last night's No. 9 corpse stitcher had walked out of the side stitching room alive this morning.

"Is the corpse stitched?"

"It's done, I've inspected it. The body should be ready for burial. What should be done about the No. 9 corpse stitcher?"

"That corpse carried evil spirits, only someone with a fateful aura could suppress it. It seems the No. 9 corpse stitcher's lone-star fate has enough Sha Qi to have survived this time."

Sun Xianfu assumed Lin Shou's fateful aura had suppressed the corpse, never imagining Lin Shou had the skill to stitch from a distance. He took a sip of tea and said:

"No matter. This kind of corpse stitcher is beneficial to our bureau. Raise the corpse quota for No. 9 Corpse-Stitching Shop to match No. 1 Shop. Since No. 1 is overwhelmed anyway, send some of the problematic corpses to No. 9 from now on."

The clerk acknowledged and was about to withdraw when he remembered another matter.

"Lord Sun, yesterday the Corpse-Salvaging Team at Shallow Water Pier clashed with the local Canal Gang. Two salvagers were beaten to death. They refuse to accept it and are gathering people to fight the Canal Gang."

"The Canal Gang at Shallow Water Pier? Weng Deyan's branch?"

"Yes, my lord, that very branch."

Sun Xianfu narrowed his eyes and picked up his tobacco pipe. A minor clerk in the Bureau of Corpse Management might not know the situation of the Canal Gang at Shallow Water Pier, but as a sixth-rank court official, he wasn't that ignorant.

Weng Deyan's branch of the Canal Gang had long been suspected of being a dog for the Western Affairs Party in court. The Three Judicial Offices and Six Fan School were also mixed up in this matter lately. With the internal strife in court and the unclear positions of various factions...

"Tell the salvaging team to behave and not stir up trouble."

"Yes, my lord. But if they don't listen..."

"Don't listen?"

Lord Sun lit his pipe and said casually:

"Then let them be. But in the coming days, go find some people who are good swimmers. Say we have work for them. Once this batch of salvagers is dead, replace them directly."

Evening, Shop No. 9.

Lin Shou sat leisurely on a stool at the door, silently reciting the Classic of Burial to train, while watching the young women and wives passing by on the night market street.

This one's nice, fair-skinned. That one's good too, slim and slender. This one with the big butt is fine too, good for childbirth. This one, that one. Tsk, why is Ning Luowei here again? So annoying.

Ning Luowei brought Lin Shou a bowl of goji berry tofu to nourish him, grabbed her own small stool, and sat at the door, ready to spar.

"Husband, what are you looking at?"

"Looking at girls."

"I'm a girl too."

"No, you're not. You're a delivery guy."

"De... delivery what?"

Their daily interactions were roughly like this. Though it was pointless, Ning Luowei came every day, and Lin Shou had gotten used to it.

Whenever the lanterns lit up, Ning Luowei would find Lin Shou to sit together at the door of the stitching shop, watching the bustling night market of the Capital City.

Lin Shou found Ning Luowei annoying, but the young unmarried men nearby were gnashing their teeth with envy.

Ever since the Tofu Beauty's fame spread, the whole street had become livelier, attracting many young, strong men. Their goal was clear: Miss Ning.

The more modest ones just watched from afar. The bold and foolish ones put on a monkey show—flexing muscles, performing tricks, smashing stones on their chests in front of the tofu shop... Lin Shou wanted to suggest they organize a variety show.

Ning Luowei refused them every time, but with her gentle, spring-breeze-like charm, still unmarried and with no known lover, who would give up?

Maybe Miss Ning has already taken a liking to me, just too shy to say it, tsk tsk... From top to bottom in the Capital, there was no shortage of self-deluded fools.

But lately, everyone saw Miss Ning always heading to the stitching shop to bring tofu to that little fool. Miss Ning was truly... truly beautiful and kind!

Voluntarily helping someone with intellectual disabilities—so touching!

On the other hand, that little fool always wore a stupid face. What if he made Miss Ning angry? What a waste of her kindness! If only it were me!

It was a good thing Lin Shou hadn't gotten mind-reading or telepathy from the Record of Selling Corpses.

If he knew what these guys were thinking, he'd curse them as a bunch of worthless roughnecks, letting their eyes lead their hearts. He'd suggest Master Ning scrape their scalps for them.

Of course, how much Lin Shou disliked Ning Luowei and how much she threw herself at him was beyond outsiders' imagination.

Everyone only saw:

The number one beauty of ten streets and eight alleys, the Tofu Beauty.

And a universally acknowledged little fool.

Going by the intelligence of those muscle-flexing, trick-performing, chest-stone-smashing guys, they could only imagine: A touching story of the Capital's top ten outstanding figures! The kind and beautiful Tofu Beauty active on the charity front lines! Dedicated to caring for the intellectually disabled!

If you told them Miss Ning had actually taken a liking to that little fool and pestered him daily, they'd laugh until they cried, maybe even swallow a sword on the spot and say: Look at my skill—how can I lose to a fool?

People's joys and sorrows don't connect. Lin Shou just found it noisy, so after finishing Ning Luowei's tofu, he sent her away.

Sitting there, lost in thought.

He had stitched up that grave robber's corpse today and walked out of the Bureau of Corpse Management alive—which probably wasn't what the Bureau had expected.

So he'd also prepared himself for being summoned in for questioning, readying a set of fabricated excuses.

If they bought it, great. If not, and they tried to take measures against him, Lin Shou had a Plan B: flee the capital.

But the odds were slim. Sun Xianfu, the head of the Bureau of Corpse Management, was after all a court official, a sixth-rank minister—surely not petty enough to go after a mere corpse-stitcher's life.

Corpse-stitchers were already lowly. Mingling with common folk was tolerable, but in the eyes of officials, they were beneath notice—pure tools. Hardly any official cared about them, let alone targeted them.

Sure enough, he waited from day to night.

Lin Shou never saw a clerk from the Bureau come to summon him.

That told him everything: the Bureau hadn't even considered him worth their time. Dead was dead, alive was luck, nothing more—not even worth a moment's interrogation.

Lin Shou thought to himself, Good. I like this hands-off attitude from the Bureau. This free life—comfortable!

The Bureau matter was settled.

Finally, there was the issue of stitching up that grave robber's corpse and the Record of Selling Corpses giving two rewards.

Lin Shou truly couldn't figure it out.

If it had been a pregnant woman with a fetus, there was the saying "one corpse, two deaths"—but this was a man.

And on top of that, the Record had priced it as Heaven-grade.

What kind of fetus inside a belly was worth that much?

A reincarnated immortal?

No matter how he racked his brain, Lin Shou couldn't make sense of it. He decided to let it go. Whatever the "one corpse, several deaths" business was, the body was stitched, the Record's reward was swallowed, and Heaven-grade pricing meant a fat profit!

Once that corpse was buried, the matter was done.

As for the eerie things he'd seen in the Lantern of Life, the burial goods brought out from the Bronze Coffin in the Prince's Tomb—they'd long since flowed into the tangled Capital Ghost Market, their whereabouts unknown.

Investigate?

Investigate my ass.

Lin Shou couldn't be bothered.

He wasn't some salaried lackey of the Three Judicial Offices—why waste energy tracking down lost excavated artifacts?

He was just a lowly corpse-stitcher in a small shop.

All he wanted was to coast through life, carefree and at ease.

If fate willed it, they'd meet again. If not, chasing after them was a waste of effort.

Lin Shou silently recited the Classic of Burial, feeling the growing power within him.

Stitching corpses, selling bodies, squeezing out rewards—cultivating and growing stronger made him happy. That was what truly mattered.