Midnight, deep into the night, at No. 9 Corpse-Stitching Shop.
Three corpses lay on the ground, and another rested on the cold platform.
With four corpses in the room in the middle of the night, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. An inexplicable chill hung in the air, sinking into the bones and marrow.
Lin Shou looked at the four corpses, his heart brimming with joy.
This was only the first day. The Autumn Examination lasted nine days.
His effort hadn't been in vain. After plenty of persuasion, he'd secured the exclusive contract for corpse-stitching during the Autumn Examination from the Bureau of Corpse Management's registrar.
These corpses could all be exchanged for rewards through the Record of Selling Corpses, so the more, the better. Immersed in the eerie atmosphere, Lin Shou took a deep breath.
Hiss. Corpses really did get the blood pumping.
Though one man and four corpses in a room seemed rather unbalanced, with an excess of yin energy, Lin Shou's physique was no ordinary one.
After all these days of silently reciting the Classic of Burial and digesting supplements, Lin Shou now had forty years of cultivation.
His qi circulated through his body, his blood and vitality vigorous, complementing the vitality of the four auspicious feng shui forms surrounding this yang residence.
Lin Shou's yang energy alone was now enough to rival that of several strapping young men in their prime. If he went strolling through the streets in his current state, the wealthy wives of the entire Capital City might fight over him.
Of course, to Lin Shou, no mere wealthy woman could compare with these dead bodies for sheer interest.
The three incense sticks burned down to ash, and Lin Shou began stitching the corpses.
The Record of Selling Corpses appeared, and one Lantern of Life after another began to spin.
The Yin-Yang Abacus clacked away. Heaven, Earth, Mystery, Yellow—what a fine price.
All the corpses were Yellow-Grade, and the Record of Selling Corpses rewarded him with:
A Confucian classic, a General Theory of Eight-Legged Essay Writing, a Regular Script Copybook, and an Enlightenment Pill.
The Confucian classic was plain and unremarkable, yet after reading it, one felt as if thoughts stirred within and a landscape unfolded in one's breast. It was like standing aboard a ship amid towering waves: with each reading, the ship grew steadier, and one's sense of being able to stand firm in the world grew stronger.
Lin Shou sensed a trace of qi, but couldn't grasp it.
This qi was different from the "Vitality of All Things" cultivated through the Classic of Burial in his dantian. It seemed more like a wisp of "Humanistic Talent Qi."
Lin Shou read the Confucian classic several times, but the talent qi still felt elusive and insubstantial, like trying to draw water with a bamboo basket. He couldn't get hold of it, so he shook his head and set it aside for now.
Like the Burial Shovel, this Confucian classic was a permanent item, not something meant to be used up. He could study it at his leisure.
Lin Shou picked up the General Theory of Eight-Legged Essay Writing next.
This reward came from an old Confucian scholar who had spent his whole life reading the books of the sages. His parents had both died before him; he'd lived in poverty all his life and sat the examinations for decades without ever passing the provincial exam. He was on the verge of madness. Tonight, as he wrote his paper in the Examination Hall, tears streamed down his face. Someone came over, glanced at his work, and called him a "mediocre fool."
The old man snapped and hanged himself.
Lin Shou studied the method of writing eight-legged essays: the Four Books and Five Classics as the foundation, the teachings of Confucius and Mencius as the framework, parallel couplets and tonal patterns, the constraints of the eight-legged form. Avoid romantic flourishes; avoid Buddhist and Daoist doctrine. Follow the thinking of the ancient sages, yet never investigate the nature of things to gain knowledge.
After Lin Shou finished reading the entire treatise, it turned into blue smoke and vanished. He gained the knowledge, and could now take up a brush and write a neatly balanced eight-legged essay. The problem was... what use was that?
Hiss. Lin Shou scratched his head. A scholar who'd acquired this skill would surely be delighted, but he had no plans to seek fame by passing the exams or sell his life to the emperor. It was useless to him.
Well, there was another skill destined to gather dust.
Lin Shou picked up the Regular Script Copybook. After tracing each character, he mastered beautiful regular script, with strokes as sharp as iron and hooks like silver, lean and vigorous, each form shaped by its rules, each brushstroke full of spirit.
This reward, at least, pleased Lin Shou quite a bit.
Chinese culture had valued calligraphy since ancient times. A person's handwriting was like a glimpse of the person; it was a second face, revealing the restrained beauty within.
Even a rough fellow from the streets could often astonish an entire neighborhood with a fine hand, earning people's respect. By contrast, no matter how much makeup and powder one put on or how fine one's clothes were, a hand like wriggling earthworms in spring and crawling snakes in autumn would only make one seem flashy and ignorant.
Lin Shou's handwriting hadn't been ugly to begin with, but it had been nowhere near the level of a calligraphy master. Now, after writing out the copybook character by character, his skill improved by leaps and bounds, reaching the threshold of mastery.
Lin Shou picked up his brush and silently wrote out "Dreaming of Wandering the Tianmu Mountain: A Farewell." The small regular-script characters in ink on the rice paper were forceful in structure, precise and meticulous in every stroke, like an ancient city with a long history, profound heritage, and an elegant, intricate design.
If anyone who loved calligraphy and painting saw it, they would surely offer a fortune for it, then take it home to have it mounted.
Lin Shou put the piece away, planning to have it mounted tomorrow and hang it on the Black Tortoise Feng Shui Position behind the shop.
The Black Tortoise Feng Shui Position emphasized one thing: anchoring, and stability.
Famous masters' calligraphy and paintings, classics by the sages—what could be steadier and more substantial than traditions refined over thousands of years?
Lin Shou thought that, in the future, he could really put some effort into honing his calligraphy and painting.
Although his regular script had already reached the threshold of mastery and showed the bearing of a renowned artist, he had the diligent-practice talent Cook Ding Butchering an Ox, which let him improve through hard work. His calligraphy still had enormous room to grow.
Cultivating the refined pursuits of a man of letters would not only nourish the Black Tortoise Feng Shui Position but also nurture and temper his own character.
Once he'd finished the Regular Script Copybook, Lin Shou picked up the final reward: an Enlightenment Pill. Dense lines of scripture were naturally engraved in tiny characters across the surface of the small pill.
An inscription on the Auspicious Stone read: "Its spirit manifested and descended into the world; its revelations spread, enlightening the ignorant. The sage's benevolence filled the universe; the treasure's transformations quietly took root."
To be enlightened was to cast off ignorance.
In ancient times, when a child first entered school, the teacher would use the Three Character Classic and the Thousand Character Classic to teach them how to recognize and read characters. Learning to read was the foundation for studying all the books of the sages. This was enlightenment.
Lin Shou swallowed the Enlightenment Pill.
The pill dissolved, transforming into countless intricate passages of scripture that poured into Lin Shou's mind as if they were tangible. Its enlightening power nourished the furrows of his cerebral cortex, exploring and unlocking the potential of human intelligence.
Lin Shou closed his eyes and rested, feeling the pill's medicinal power nourish his brain. When it had been fully absorbed, he opened his eyes. Talent qi shone outward, and his gaze seemed to hold the wisdom of someone who had read every poem and book by the sages, witnessed the vicissitudes of the world, and grasped its deepest truths.
Lin Shou blinked, and the talent qi in his eyes vanished, like a dragon hiding in the wilds or a tiger returning to its mountain.
The Enlightenment Pill nourished the brain, and Lin Shou could also vaguely sense that elusive Humanistic Talent Qi, but he still couldn't grasp it.
Moreover, thanks to the pill's nourishment and development of his brain, Lin Shou gained a new talent: Eidetic Memory.
No matter how many words a poem or classic contained, as long as Lin Shou read it once, he could remember every word and recite it fluently.
This superpower for memorizing texts would have made the students next door preparing for the college entrance exams weep with envy.
Four corpses in one night, and a bountiful haul.
Lin Shou was overjoyed. In the past, he'd only gotten one corpse a night, a single pull. Now he saw that ten-pulls really were the most satisfying.
He loved the Autumn Examination to bits. What a pity it only came once every three years.
But this time, he was going to haul in as much as he could.
The second night of the Autumn Examination.
Lin Shou looked at the ten corpses neatly lined up in the Corpse-Stitching Shop, grinning from ear to ear.
Tonight, it was a ten-pull.
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