Yellow Millet Dream

Swish, swish, swish.

The Record of Selling Corpses appeared, and the Lantern of Life began to turn.

The Yin-Yang Abacus clacked. Heaven, Earth, Black, Yellow—each had its price.

Lin Shou stitched up ten corpses in a row, then opened the draw to see whether he'd struck lucky or not.

Four Confucian classics, two Enlightenment Pills, a Suspension-Beam and Awl-Stab Set, a Wall-Chisel Light-Stealing Lamp, a Ma Liang's Brush, and a bowl of Yellow Millet.

Ma Liang's Brush and the Yellow Millet were rewards from corpses the Record of Selling Corpses had priced at Black grade.

The other eight had all been priced at Yellow grade.

The odds on this ten-pull weren't too bad.

Lin Shou had eaten both Enlightenment Pills. Bathed in the wisdom of sages, he could once again faintly sense the elusive aura of literary talent.

He set the Confucian classics aside. He had no use for them for the time being.

As for the Suspension-Beam and Awl-Stab Set...

In ancient times, scholars who studied hard would suspend their hair from a beam or jab their thighs with an awl to keep themselves awake.

The set contained two things: a rope for hanging one's hair and an awl for stabbing one's thigh.

In terms of its effects, it could banish drowsiness completely and focus the mind. It was a godsend for pulling all-nighters. Wear it while studying, and you could work until day turned to night, forget to eat and sleep, and never feel tired.

Lin Shou wondered what he was supposed to do with this thing. He didn't pull all-nighters. Whatever. He'd save it for the day he came across some kid who was too much of a handful, then Lin Shou-gege could give him this all-nighter study gift set.

For now, Lin Shou tossed the Suspension-Beam and Awl-Stab Set into Three Immortals Return to the Cave to gather dust.

Next up was the Wall-Chisel Light-Stealing Lamp.

There was once a diligent scholar who was too poor to afford a candle. He chiseled a hole in the wall to borrow his neighbor's candlelight and read by it. This was known as stealing light through a chiseled wall.

The Wall-Chisel Light-Stealing Lamp was a curious little thing.

There were candles burning in the Corpse-Stitching Shop. Holding the lamp, Lin Shou said, "Absorb." With a whoosh, the light around him shrank into a tiny point and flew into the lamp. The candle flames dimmed, and the entire Corpse-Stitching Shop fell into darkness.

Then Lin Shou said, "Release." The point of light flew out of the lamp, and the candlelight flared bright. Swish—the room lit up again.

The Wall-Chisel Light-Stealing Lamp could absorb, store, and release light.

Lin Shou fiddled with it for a while. It was pretty interesting, but as a little Yellow-grade trinket, its functions were limited. It was basically just a rechargeable flashlight.

Having sorted through the Yellow-grade rewards, he moved on to the two Black-grade ones.

First, a Ma Liang's Brush.

The corpse that had yielded this reward belonged to a pedantic scholar. He, too, had spent years taking the examinations without ever passing. His family was so poor they could barely scrape together a bowl of porridge from the relief kitchen; even a plate of fennel beans had to be bought on credit.

His fellow townsfolk mocked him every day. "Did you hand in a blank paper again this year?" His face would flush with anger, and he'd want to snap back and argue, but he had nothing to say to these uncouth commoners.

That year, he sat the examination again.

As he was writing his answers that night, someone happened to pass by and glance at his paper.

"You might just scrape through."

"Ah!"

The pedantic scholar let out a cry, then slapped the table and laughed wildly.

"Ah! I passed the provincial exam! Hahaha! I passed!"

The scholar sent the tabletop clattering to the floor. His brush, ink, paper, and inkstone scattered everywhere. He stood in his little cubicle, singing and dancing, his face twisted with madness as he shouted,

"I passed! I passed! Ahahaha!"

The scholar had gone mad.

He kept jumping and dancing until he accidentally stepped on the inkstone and slipped. The back of his head struck the sharp corner of the kang bed.

With a thud, his skull split open, spilling blood.

His corpse hit the floor. He was dead.

The person who had spoken shook his head and left.

Across the ages, how many had been driven mad by the poisonous imperial examinations? The Scholars is full of bitterly ironic, absurdly laughable stories, like Fan Jin passing the provincial exam—but how many of them weren't true reflections of the countless examinees who'd failed?

How many people, driven by their circumstances to cling to fame and rank, had gone mad in their hearts long before they ever lost their minds?

The corpse had been priced at Black grade, seventh rank.

The Record of Selling Corpses had rewarded him with a Ma Liang's Brush.

Ma Liang's magic brush overflowed with literary talent. It could make the imaginary real.

Lin Shou tried it out, sketching some little animals on paper, but nothing came to life.

"Overflowing with literary talent, able to make the imaginary real..."

Literary talent overflowing?

Lin Shou shook his head and put the Ma Liang's Brush away in Three Immortals Return to the Cave for the time being. He didn't seem able to use it yet.

The last reward was his favorite.

A bowl of Yellow Millet.

The corpse that had yielded this reward belonged to a scholar who'd pulled all-nighters studying every day. He hadn't been getting enough sleep, and eventually died of a heart attack.

The scholar had shown exceptional talent from a young age. When he first began learning, he picked up written characters at an astonishing pace. His teacher praised him as a natural scholar, and his parents were overjoyed, saying their family had produced a treasure who would surely become a high official one day. From then on, they did everything they could to nurture the family's future high official: they hired the best teacher they could find and bought him tonics, pouring all their hopes and resources into giving him the very best.

But once he began formally studying the Four Books and Five Classics, the scholar realized he wasn't actually cut out for reading. He'd only been quick at learning characters. He couldn't understand a word of what his teacher said about the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, and he couldn't make sense of the Four Books and Five Classics. How could he possibly pass the examinations?

The scholar knew he wasn't cut out for a career in government. But he saw how his parents longed for him to become a dragon, waiting every day for him to rise to prominence, bring honor to the family, and lift them all to the heavens. So he gritted his teeth and studied. Whenever he couldn't understand something, he refused to sleep and kept at it, memorizing everything by rote.

The scholar had always been introverted. On top of that, his parents' hopes of seeing him pass the examinations weighed on him. He studied late into the night every day, slowly wearing down his health until, in the end, overwork brought on a fatal heart attack. He died in the examination hall.

His parents were probably still at home, eagerly waiting for him to return in glory after passing the provincial exam. Then he'd pass the metropolitan exam, rise to prominence, become a high official, and make a fortune. The whole family would bask in the glory, and the neighbors would envy them for raising such a promising child.

But they didn't know their child had already died in the examination hall. It was time to wake up from their grand dream of turning their child into a dragon and relying on his hard work to bring them glory.

Could it have been nothing but a dream?

The affairs of the world were just the same.

It had all seemed like a dream of yellow millet.

Lin Shou picked up the bowl of Yellow Millet rice and began to eat.

The grains were plump, but they had no taste at all. Had he eaten them? It seemed he had, and yet it also seemed he hadn't.

After finishing the bowl of Yellow Millet rice, Lin Shou felt drowsiness wash over him. He arranged his pillow, lay down, and fell asleep.

After he dozed off, Lin Shou dreamed of a boundless field of Yellow Millet, golden from one end to the other, like a golden Liang Sea. A gentle breeze swept across it, raising waves.

At dawn the next day, a rooster crowed and the dream ended.

Lin Shou opened his eyes. A boundless golden Liang Sea slowly faded from his vision.

After a good night's sleep, Lin Shou had learned some new abilities. Now he wanted to see how powerful they were.

Lin Shou lifted the door panel and stepped out of the Corpse-Stitching Shop.

Testing these abilities was risky. If they didn't work, he could end up making a fool of himself in public, so Lin Shou needed a suitable testing ground—somewhere he could clean things up even if his abilities failed.

He thought it over from every angle, then remembered a place.

Back when he'd investigated the Fortune-Longevity Paste smuggling case, he'd stitched up a young constable who'd died at Shallow Water Pier. The constable had been murdered because he'd uncovered a lead that could deal the Western Affairs Party a fatal blow.

The lead had been the location of a warehouse where the smuggled Fortune-Longevity Paste was stored.

If the Three Judicial Offices learned the warehouse's location and found the smuggled Fortune-Longevity Paste and the account books, they'd have everything they needed to impeach the Viceroy of Liangguang and the Western Affairs Party in the imperial court.

The warehouse was on the territory of the Canal Gang at Shallow Water Pier, under the control of its leader, Weng Deyan. The constable, too, had been killed by Weng Deyan's men.

Lin Shou thought that since the Canal Gang and Weng Deyan were traitors smuggling Fortune-Longevity Paste, he could secretly test his abilities on one or two of them. Even if he failed, he could always smash a witness over the head with a shovel and leave him brain-damaged. He wouldn't feel too guilty about it, and he could also report the whole affair to the Six Fan School and let them clean up the mess. Either way, he'd be perfectly safe.

Tsk, not bad. The Canal Gang would make perfect guinea pigs.

After the Bureau of Corpse Management came to collect the corpses, Lin Shou hoisted his Burial Shovel over his shoulder and ambled along the river toward the Canal Gang's territory at Shallow Water Pier.

At that moment, the members of the Canal Gang at Shallow Water Pier had no idea what they were about to face.