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In one night, Miao Qingyu sorted through three hundred books.
According to their varying values, Miao Qingyu categorized the books and stacked them up like bricks in a city wall.
After the Corpse Collector finished handling the transported bodies, he saw the books piled here and casually flipped through a few.
A few pages later, a smile appeared on his scar-covered face, then abruptly vanished. Returning the books to their original places, he softly said, "Thank you. You've been a huge help."
"Don't mention it. Consider it repayment for saving my life."
The Corpse Collector wiped his hands on his clothes, then took hold of Miao Qingyu's blender.
His hands were hard and cold, covered in frostbite scars and calluses. They were the unforgettable hands of a laborer.
After giving her hand a light shake, the Corpse Collector said, "I'll leave this job to you. If you find any high-quality books, please send them to the warehouse on the fourth floor. These books aren't copyrighted, and replacing them costs a fortune. Keeping them will be very helpful for Fangshan's future Restoration. I'll pay you according to each book's value. Once you've saved enough, you can buy some recycled prosthetics from me. I'll give you half off."
"Thank you."
"I should be thanking you. Oh, right. This is yours."
The Corpse Collector pinched a phone covered in cracks out of his pocket. A phone that an ordinary person could not control with one hand looked like a piece of peach pastry in his grip—one that had already been bitten into.
Taking the phone, Miao Qingyu found that it immediately unlocked with facial recognition, proving that it really was hers.
"I went back to the place where I found you today. I wanted to