Chapter 22: Business Knocks at the Door

Those who are truly in the business of feng shui are low-key in their conduct; they detest grandstanding above all else and would never call themselves "masters." Therefore, those so-called "masters" are almost always charlatans and swindlers.

I smiled at the old gentleman and said modestly, "I am merely the humble shopkeeper of this teahouse, certainly not a master. I cannot accept the title of 'Master Lin.' If you wish to be kind, you may simply call me Shopkeeper Lin."

The old gentleman was a man who listened to reason, and he immediately addressed me with great respect: "Very well, Shopkeeper Lin, I beg you to help me!"

I did not rush to answer, but instead set about brewing a pot of pre-Qingming Longjing tea for my guest. Only when the fresh tea was served and the fragrant steam began to curl upward did I ask unhurriedly:

"How should I address you, sir? And what matter requires my assistance?"

The old gentleman had no mind for tea; he let the steam rise from the cup unnoticed. With a pained expression, he said, "My surname is Li. You can just call me Old Li, Shopkeeper Lin."

"It is like this: my wife worked very hard and often had to stay up late. She was fine when she was younger, but now that she has suddenly reached the age of fifty, how could she sustain such exhaustion? Just a few days ago, she collapsed at her workplace and tragically passed away from sudden cardiac death..."

At this point, Old Li’s eyes reddened; it was clear he and his wife shared a deep bond.

"My condolences," I said softly.

Old Li nodded and continued, "Normally, when someone dies, they cannot come back to life. I had come to terms with it. The only thing I could do was to arrange her funeral properly and send her off with dignity..."

"But... but..."

After stammering, Old Li’s eyes widened, and he said with a mix of anger and bewilderment, "But just as we were approaching the 'seventh day' after her death, and her body was about to be cremated, the morgue sent word that my wife’s body had vanished! It disappeared! Gone! Tell me, what kind of situation is this?"

Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat. Why did this story sound so familiar?

Before I could ask for details, Old Li went on: "The absurdity did not end there. I went to the morgue that very day to investigate. I demanded they pull up the surveillance footage so I could check carefully and see which heartless wretch had stolen my wife’s body!"

"But Shopkeeper Lin, guess what I saw?"

I frowned. "What?"

Old Li gasped, his face turning pale. "After we pulled up the surveillance, we were all terrified! On that day, my wife’s body actually climbed out of the morgue locker by itself, put on clothes, and walked out of the morgue as brazenly as any normal person!"

"Because she walked out on her own, the security guard on duty didn't stop her! No one could have imagined that a corpse could walk out of the morgue by itself!"

Hearing the story to this point, I had already guessed the identity of Old Li’s wife. She was none other than the "living dead" woman—Director Song—who had visited Gu Qianxi to perform an eye rehabilitation checkup, only to secretly leave behind a venomous snake eye mask.

The matter was not complicated. The mastermind behind the attempt on Gu Qianxi’s life must have simply stolen a fresh corpse from the morgue, used some wicked method to awaken it into a "living dead" puppet, and manipulated her to commit the deed. As for Old Li, he clearly knew nothing of this.

Now that the mastermind had finished using Director Song’s body, they had discarded it somewhere, but Old Li had to find her—after all, she was the wife he had spent his life with.

Thinking of this, I asked directly, "Old Li, is your wife’s surname Song? Did she work as a director at the hospital?"

Old Li was stunned. He stared at me blankly and exclaimed, "Shopkeeper Lin is truly omniscient! To think you could even calculate this? No wonder the internet says the head of Gu Beitang is highly skilled, even the head of Cuilin Pavilion would have to kneel before you!"

I waved my hand slightly, offering no explanation, and asked, "So, Old Li, your purpose in coming here is to have me retrieve Director Song’s body, is that it?"

Unexpectedly, Old Li shook his head. "No, Shopkeeper Lin. Actually, I have already found my wife’s body."

"Someone messaged me yesterday saying they saw my wife near a bridge culvert on the Yancheng highway. But she is like a living person now; she can walk and run, and sometimes she even reaches out to grab people. It’s too terrifying! Ordinary people are too afraid to go near her!"

I suddenly understood. "So you came to me to ask me to 'bring her back,' is that correct?"

Old Li nodded repeatedly. "Yes, yes, that is exactly it."

He then fumbled in his pocket, produced a thick envelope, and presented it to me with both hands, saying politely, "A small token of my appreciation. I hope you will accept it, Shopkeeper Lin."

This is the business I am in, so I did not refuse. I took the envelope and weighed it; there was at least thirty thousand yuan inside. To retrieve a "living dead" for thirty thousand in pure profit—it was not a bad deal; one might even say it was quite lucrative.

I tucked the envelope away and stood up briskly. "Please, Old Li, sit here in the shop and have some tea. Allow me to go and return shortly."

Old Li was astonished that I had agreed so readily. "Shopkeeper Lin, can you bring my wife back today?"

I smiled and gestured to the pot of pre-Qingming Longjing on the table. "If Director Song is still under that bridge culvert, I shall bring her back to see you before this pot of tea grows cold."

With that, I changed my clothes and set out from Gu Beitang. It was not that I was posturing or boasting before Old Li. I was all too familiar with the current state of Director Song; she was nothing more than a reanimated corpse. The "living dead" are different from Jiangshi (hopping vampires); they possess no deep cultivation and can, at most, frighten the uninitiated. In my eyes, they are mere toys.

In the past, at the mass graves, I would encounter the "living dead" every few days; I used to treat them like punching bags. Now that Old Li had entrusted me to deal with one, it was right up my alley.

After leaving, I hailed a taxi and headed straight for the bridge culvert where Director Song was located. Before I even reached it, I encountered an old beggar sleeping on a roadside bench. Seeing me head toward the culvert, the beggar kindly blocked my path.

"Young man, don't go over there! There’s something filthy in there!"

I smiled and asked, "The filthy thing you speak of—is it a woman with short hair?"

The old beggar nodded immediately. "Yes, that's her!"

"That woman is a 'living dead.' She has no breath left, and her body is stiff, but she can still walk around and fight me for space in the culvert! You must not go! Don't let her grab you and make you her substitute in death!"

I chuckled, not retreating, and only asked, "Is that filthy thing still under the bridge culvert now?"

The old beggar nodded. "She is."

Hearing this, I felt a spark of satisfaction. "As long as she is there, I shall bring her home tonight."