News from the South

Linhe County Inspection Bureau, Yue Shan's office.

The lamplight cast Yue Shan's angular features in alternating bands of light and shadow.

The man sitting across from him was none other than Liu Shoucai, owner of the Fortune Longevity Coffin Shop.

The usual smooth-talking shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen. He looked somewhat ill at ease, rubbing his knees unconsciously with both hands.

"Shopkeeper Liu, thanks for making the trip. Tell me, what exactly has that kid Chen Mo been up to lately?" Yue Shan's voice carried an authority that brooked no evasions.

Zhao Degui cleared his throat. "Captain Yue, rest assured. I take money to do a job, and I keep my eyes open."

"This past month, the Chen boy barely left his shop. He'd open up for half a day, then close for half a day. As for the jobs he took..." He counted them off on his fingers.

"Old Wang's grandson at the east end of the street died young, so he made a pair of paper children. Widow Liu in the west alley ordered a shroud and some paper money. All small jobs. They wouldn't have earned him more than a few coppers in total, let alone brought him any big clients from Jin City!"

"Captain Yue, I won't hide it from you. In our line of work..." His expression turned certain. "Big commissions, especially from a major city like Jin City—if they want a complete set of large items like a Guardian General and a Gold and Silver Chest, those have to be planned well in advance."

"The family has to send someone to inspect the craftsmanship, discuss the designs, and settle the rules. Sometimes they even have to check the feng shui and the auspicious hour."

"How could someone place an order one day and demand it be rushed off in the middle of the night the next? It might have been possible when Chen Dachuan was around, but with Chen Mo looking like he'd fall over in a gust of wind, who'd trust him with something as important as a burial?"

"And specifically seek him out all the way from Jin City? Impossible. There's no such person!"

Yue Shan listened quietly, tracing aimless lines on the tabletop with one finger. "Are you certain there weren't any unfamiliar faces this month, especially anyone who didn't look local, visiting Deliverance Studio? Or did Chen Mo himself do anything unusual?"

Zhao Degui thought carefully for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Most people on Funeral Street have had some kind of trouble in their family. They're usually in a panic, so I remember pretty much all of them."

"No one specifically came looking for Chen Mo. As for anything unusual..." He furrowed his brows. "The kid's become even gloomier than before, and he talks less. Oh, right. A few days ago, he suddenly paid back the two silver dollars he owed Widow Li!"

"That was a little strange. With how broke he used to be, where'd he suddenly get the money to repay her? Though maybe he'd managed to save a little at last and wanted to clear his debt?"

Yue Shan's gaze flickered. "He repaid Widow Li? When exactly?"

"Just a couple of days ago, before he left the county." Zhao Degui answered firmly.

"Anything else? Those large items he took with him this time—were they any different from what you'd usually seen?" Yue Shan pressed.

"The materials looked sturdier than before. That general was pretty hefty."

Zhao Degui smacked his lips. "But to be honest, Captain Yue, I thought something was strange at the time. His stuff was pasted together unusually tightly, and it felt pretty heavy. I slapped the general's leg myself. It was hard as a rock, not hollow and light like ordinary paper effigies."

"I thought he was worried they'd get bounced apart on the road, so he'd added a few extra layers of paper to reinforce them. But now that I think about it..." His expression turned startled, then uneasy. "Could there really have been something else inside?"

Yue Shan didn't answer directly. Instead, he mused, "Boss Zhao, have you heard any unusual rumors on the street about the Black Tiger Gang's downfall? Especially anything... involving paper effigies?"

Zhao Degui's expression changed. He instinctively glanced around. "Captain Yue, there have been some rumors. They say Lei Tiger and his men died in a most unnatural way, as if they'd run afoul of baleful intent and provoked something they shouldn't have."

Yue Shan nodded and asked no more. He took a small cloth bundle from his desk drawer and pushed it toward Zhao Degui. "Boss Zhao, this is your fee for the month. What we discussed today leaves my mouth and enters your ears. Don't mention it to anyone else. Keep an eye on Deliverance Studio, and if Chen Mo comes back or anything unusual happens, notify us the usual way."

"Of course! Understood! Thank you, Captain Yue!" Zhao Degui took the bundle and weighed it in his hand. His face broke into a broad grin. He hurried to his feet and bowed repeatedly. "Rest assured, I'll keep a close watch. If anything stirs, I'll report it to you right away!"

After seeing Zhao Degui out, Yue Shan returned to his desk, his expression darkening completely.

He unfolded a map of Linhe County and fixed his gaze on the southern wharf and the waterway leading to Jin City.

"No client, yet he suddenly made and shipped a set of high-grade sacrificial goods to Jin City..."

"Paid off an old debt in advance..."

"The cargo was unusually heavy..."

"The timing came right after the Black Tiger Gang's destruction and the disappearance of the valuables in their secret room..."

Yue Shan rose and went to the door. He said to the team member on duty outside, "Have Zhou Ling and Zhao Tie come see me at once."

Before long, Zhou Ling and Zhao Tie hurried into the office. Both looked somewhat worn out from their shift.

"Captain Yue." They stood at attention and saluted.

Yue Shan waved for them to sit, then looked from one to the other. "You were the ones directly watching Chen Mo these past twenty days. Think back carefully over everything you saw and sensed, especially the things that didn't seem important at the time."

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

The cargo hold was cramped and dim. The air was thick with the stench of all kinds of cargo and the sour reek of human sweat.

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

But his gaze was fixed on the far end of the hold, an area lit by several deliberately dimmed oil lamps.

There, unmistakably, stood a pitch-black coffin.

It wasn't newly lacquered. Its wood was dark and heavy, emanating a chill that spoke of age.

Four men sat or leaned beside it, all dressed in coarse dark gray or indigo clothes, their sleeves and trouser legs tied tight.

They looked ordinary enough, but their eyes were calm—the calm of men who had seen death countless times.

They didn't speak to the other passengers. Each quietly polished one of several peculiar tools: a curved Yin-Seeking Shovel, a gleaming Lu Ban Ruler, and a roll of scripture cloth covered in talismans.

Chen Mo knew they were members of the Eight Yin Craftsmen, the specialists responsible for funerals and relocating graves—craftsmen ordinary people went out of their way to avoid.

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

He seemed to notice someone watching from this side. Without pausing his work, he turned his head slightly.

His cloudy eyes swept toward Chen Mo and lingered for a moment on the outline of the handcart beneath its straw mat. Then he turned away without changing expression.

Chen Mo stood up anyway and brushed nonexistent dust from his clothes. To the astonished stares of the other passengers in the hold, he walked straight toward the coffin.

He stopped about a yard away.

Several of the younger Eight Yin Craftsmen immediately stopped what they were doing, their bodies tensing slightly.

The old craftsman continued wiping the coffin as if he hadn't seen Chen Mo approach.