News from the South

Linhe County Inspection Bureau, Yue Shan's office.

The light from an oil lamp cast Yue Shan's sharp-featured face into a mix of light and shadow.

Sitting opposite him was none other than Liu Shoucai, the owner of the Fortune Longevity Coffin Shop.

He had shed his usual street-smart slickness and appeared somewhat restrained, his hands unconsciously rubbing against his knees.

"Shopkeeper Liu, thank you for making the trip. Tell me, what is the situation with that kid Chen Mo lately?" Yue Shan's tone carried an inherent authority that brooked no evasion.

Zhao Degui cleared his throat. "Officer Yue, rest assured. I, old Zhao, take money to do a job; my eyes are sharp."

"That Chen kid hasn't even stepped out of his door for a month. The shop has been open half the time and closed the other half. As for the jobs he's taken..." He began counting on his fingers.

"The grandson of Old Wang at the east end of the street passed away, so he made a pair of paper boy and girl dolls. Old Lady Liu in the west alley needed burial clothes and asked for some spirit money on the side. It's all been petty, trivial work. It doesn't add up to much, let alone some big client from Jin City!"

"Officer Yue, to be honest, in our line of work," he said, a look of certainty appearing on his face, "big deals—especially those from a major place like Jin City, requiring complete sets like a Guardian General and a Gold and Silver Chest—all require planning well in advance."

"The client has to send someone to inspect the craftsmanship, discuss the styles, set the rules, and sometimes even check the feng shui and auspicious timing."

"How could there be a case of ordering one day and rushing to have it delivered in the middle of the night the next? Maybe it was possible when Chen Dachuan was still around, but with Chen Mo's current 'blow-over-in-the-wind' constitution, who would trust him with such important funeral matters?"

"And specifically seeking him out from Jin City? Impossible. There is absolutely no such person!"

Yue Shan listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously tracing lines on the desktop. "Are you certain there were no new faces this month, especially those who didn't look like locals, going to Deliverance Studio? Or, has Chen Mo himself shown any abnormal behavior?"

Zhao Degui thought carefully for a few seconds and shook his head. "Those who come to Funeral Street are mostly people who have had a tragedy in the family. They look flustered, and I generally have an impression of them."

"As for someone specifically looking for Chen Mo, there really isn't anyone. Abnormal behavior, though..." He frowned. "The kid has been even more gloomy than before, and he speaks even less. Oh, right! A few days ago, he suddenly paid back the two silver dollars he owed Widow Li!"

"That's a bit strange. With his usual poverty-stricken state, how did he suddenly have the money to pay it back? But perhaps he finally saved up enough and wanted to clear his debts?"

Yue Shan's eyes flickered. "He paid back Widow Li? When exactly?"

"Just two days ago, before he left," Zhao Degui confirmed.

"What else? The large items he brought with him on this trip—were they any different from what you usually see?" Yue Shan pressed.

"The materials looked more solid than before; that General was quite thick and sturdy."

Zhao Degui smacked his lips. "But to be honest, Officer Yue, I felt something was off at the time. Those items of his were pasted exceptionally tight, and the weight was likely not light. I tapped the General's leg, and it was hard as a rock, not hollow and airy like ordinary paper crafts."

"I thought he just added extra layers of paper for reinforcement to prevent them from falling apart on the bumpy road. Now that I think about it..." He revealed a look of sudden realization mixed with lingering fear. "Could it be that there was actually something else hidden inside?"

Yue Shan did not answer directly, instead musing, "Boss Zhao, while on the street, have you heard any special rumors regarding the collapse of the Black Tiger Gang? Especially... anything related to paper-crafting?"

Zhao Degui's expression changed, and he instinctively looked left and right. "Officer Yue, there are some rumors. They say Lei Tiger and his men died in a wicked way, as if they had run into a Sha, having provoked something they shouldn't have."

Yue Shan nodded, stopped asking, took a small cloth bag from his drawer, and pushed it toward Zhao Degui. "Boss Zhao, this is your hard-earned money for the month. Today's words go out of my mouth and into your ears; do not mention them to outsiders. Continue to keep an eye on Deliverance Studio. If Chen Mo returns or there is any abnormality, notify us using the old method."

"Yes! Understood! Understood! Thank you, Officer Yue!" Zhao Degui took the cloth bag, weighed it in his hand, and his face blossomed into a smile. He stood up and bowed repeatedly. "Rest assured, I will keep a close watch. If there is any movement, I will report it to you immediately!"

After sending Zhao Degui away, Yue Shan returned to his desk, his expression turning completely grim.

He unfolded the map of Linhe County, his gaze landing on the South Wharf and the waterway leading to Jin City.

"No clients, yet he suddenly produces and transports a set of high-spec ritual offerings to Jin City..."

"Paid off old debts in advance..."

"The cargo was abnormally heavy..."

"The timing follows immediately after the collapse of the Black Tiger Gang and the disappearance of the valuables in their secret room..."

Yue Shan stood up, walked to the door, and said to the team members waiting outside, "Have Zhou Ling and Zhao Tie come to see me immediately."

Before long, Zhou Ling and Zhao Tie walked quickly into the office, both of them showing the fatigue of their shift.

"Team Leader Yue." The two stood at attention and saluted.

Yue Shan waved his hand, signaling them to sit, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "You two were the direct executors of the surveillance on Chen Mo for the past twenty days. Recall everything you saw and felt, and go over it carefully again, especially those details you thought were insignificant at the time."

The Night Owl cut through the murky river water, heading downstream toward Jin City.

The cargo hold was crowded and dim, the air thick with the pungent odors of various goods mixed with the stench of human sweat.

Chen Mo huddled in a corner, his back against his handcart, which was covered by a straw mat.

His gaze, however, was fixed on the deepest part of the hold, an area illuminated by a few oil lamps that had been deliberately dimmed.

There, a pitch-black coffin sat motionless.

The coffin was not freshly lacquered; the wood was dark and heavy, exuding a chill that had accumulated over many years.

Sitting or leaning nearby were four people, all dressed in dark gray or indigo coarse cloth, their cuffs and pant legs tied tightly.

Their faces were ordinary, but their eyes were incredibly still—a stillness born from being accustomed to life and death.

They did not converse with the other passengers, each silently polishing their own peculiar tools: curved Yin-Seeking Shovels, a gleaming Lu Ban Ruler, and a scroll of scripture cloth covered in talismans.

Chen Mo knew these were craftsmen from the Eight Yin Craftsmen, specialists in funeral arrangements and grave relocation, the kind of people ordinary folks avoided at all costs.

An elderly craftsman beside the coffin, his hair gray, was carefully wiping the patterns on the head of the coffin with a soft cloth.

He seemed to sense the gaze from this side; his hands did not stop, but his head tilted slightly.

His turbid eyes swept toward Chen Mo's side, paused for a moment on the outline of the straw mat on the handcart, and then retracted without any expression.

Chen Mo, however, stood up, brushed the non-existent dust from his clothes, and walked straight toward the coffin, amidst the astonished gazes of the other passengers in the hold.

He stopped about ten feet away from the coffin.

The younger Eight Yin Craftsmen immediately stopped their work, their bodies tensing slightly.

The elderly craftsman continued to wipe the coffin, as if he hadn't seen him approach at all.