Chapter 37: Corpse Theft

Liaoyang, at the crossroads.

Before Mr. Yan’s storytelling stall, a dense crowd had gathered. He stood with eyes wide and voice like thunder, narrating with such fervor that his listeners felt transported to the scene; in his hand, a folding fan transformed into a crimson-tasselled spear.

"It happened in the blink of an eye! He Xinpei braced his spear and roared at the Russian soldiers, 'Halt, you scurvy knaves! Come and meet your deaths!' It was as if Zhang Fei had shouted from the Changban Bridge; the soldiers were so terrified their livers and gallbladders seemed to shatter, and they panicked, asking each other, 'This is a true hero—who dares to face him?'"

...

The turmoil at the He household had only just subsided when Mr. Yan seized the opportunity to turn it into his performance material. Generally, storytellers avoid recent events involving local people, as they are difficult to embellish. But to the common folk, the tragedy of the He family was a bizarre case with neither beginning nor end. Although many had witnessed the Changfeng Security Bureau men being dragged away by the Russians and the women in the back quarters being defiled and killed, the underlying motives were shrouded in mystery, fueling endless speculation.

How did a burglary at the Wang residence turn into the annihilation of the He family? Opinions were divided. This gave Mr. Yan the freedom to weave his own tale. Since he did not know the truth, he narrated the history of the Changfeng Security Bureau, the rise of He Xinpei, and fabricated a few enemies—he had no shortage of things to say.

If someone asked him, "Sir, is what you say true?" he would affect a profound air and reply, "Listen to it as it is told, and tell it as you heard it." In those days, if Zhang in the South City lost a shoe, by the time the story reached the North City, it would become Zhang’s wife having an affair. As for the truth—well! Who could say?

However, the ability to make well-known events captivating, to weave in dramatic tension and find the "soul" of the story—that was the measure of a storyteller’s skill. To keep a story long, one must leave "hooks" and plant foreshadowing. Everyone knew the He family had been dragged to the Russian camp and the women had died by hanging, but how would Mr. Yan spice it up?

Unexpectedly, there was no need for fabrication; a ready-made "hook" presented itself. It was rumored that the women of the He family had already transformed into vengeful spirits and vanished into thin air!

...

After the Russian soldiers had looted the He residence and dragged away the guards, many neighbors flocked in to scavenge for weapons, furniture, and kitchenware. By the end of the day, the He residence was nearly picked clean; only the back room, where the corpses lay, remained untouched. As night fell, a chilling wind stirred, the vermilion doors creaked open and shut, and the bodies hanging from the rafters swayed gently. The entire house was filled with a ghostly aura, and no one dared approach within a dozen paces.

At the third watch, the sound of a cart approached from the South Street. Turning the corner, a donkey cart appeared, carrying an old man and a youth. On the cart lay a wet burlap sack; though tied shut, a few damp strands of hair protruded from it. Tiegeta (Iron Lump) turned, tucked the hair back into the sack, and grinned.

"Old Uncle, this trip was truly worth it! A great find!"

"Hmph, kid, I told you—you have to be diligent in business; you never know when you’ll stumble upon a treasure."

Old Yanpao’s (Old Smoke Cannon) face was the color of incense ash, like a dead man’s, and his triangular eyes were murkier than sewage. He reeked of the rot of the grave. Tiegeta was unimpressed. "It’s fate, not diligence. You’ve been diligent your whole life—how many times have you actually stumbled upon a score like this?"

Old Yanpao raised his pipe and struck Tiegeta hard on the head. "Still talking back! Still talking back!"

"I’m wrong, I’m wrong! Stop hitting me!"

These two were villagers from Liu’er Fort in the South City, making their living by grave robbing and corpse theft. Not long ago, an old acquaintance in the city had a female corpse and wanted to sell it, asking if they were interested. At first, Tiegeta hadn't wanted to come. After all, though they were in the "yin" trade, they were not like coffin shops; they dealt in "no-cost" merchandise. Why buy what you can steal?

However, once Old Yanpao heard the deceased was a woman in her twenties, he became intrigued. They were not mere grave robbers; they stole corpses specifically to resell to wealthy families, and a female corpse in her twenties was the most valuable, never lacking a buyer. The seller was a Taoist charlatan, an old crony of Old Yanpao’s, who had confessed the truth: the corpse was the concubine of the wealthy Wang Youcai from the South City!

It was said that the old miser had been living in turmoil. He had taken a concubine last autumn, which infuriated his wife, who drove the girl to the west wall and forced her to drown herself in a well. Whether it was truly suicide, only the Wang family knew. To avoid scandal, Wang Youcai kept the death secret, ordering his trusted servants to seal the well.

But since winter began, the Wang residence had been plagued by robberies. Wang Youcai, a man who loved money more than life, nearly collapsed when he lost five hundred taels of silver. He wanted to report it to the authorities and blame the Changfeng Security Bureau, but his wife, fearing an investigation into the well, begged him to stop. Soon after, two jade thumb rings were stolen—right under the nose of the security guards.

Wang Youcai could no longer sit still. After firing the security bureau, he felt guilty and paranoid, convinced his dead concubine’s spirit was bringing him bad luck. He hired the Taoist charlatan, who put on a show of rituals and swindled him out of a fortune. Finally, the Taoist told him to dredge the corpse from the well, claiming he would take it to the wilderness to slay the "corpse demon." Wang Youcai complied, and peace returned to the house. The old miser marveled at the "master," never knowing the Taoist had simply stuffed the corpse into a sack and headed off to find a buyer in the underworld trade.

Tiegeta felt it wasn't worth traveling all the way into the city for one corpse, especially during the New Year, so he had been grumbling the whole way. But neither he nor Old Yanpao expected that upon reaching Liaoyang, they would run headlong into the He family catastrophe. Their greed ignited, and they agreed to steal the bodies that night.

In the past, the government would bury unclaimed corpses to prevent plague, but with the Russians now in control, the local administration was paralyzed. Old Yanpao and Tiegeta decided to strike before anyone else intervened.

They reached the Changfeng Security Bureau, left the cart, and strode into the courtyard. Pushing open the back door, they saw two middle-aged women hanging from the rafters, two younger ones on the *kang*, and an old servant on the floor. The scene was wretched, the air still thick with the stench of blood. Old Yanpao, having done this for decades, felt no fear.

"Kid, get to work!" Old Yanpao snapped.

"What's the rush?" Tiegeta cursed. "It's the middle of the night! Besides us, who else would dare come here?"

Old Yanpao raised his pipe to strike him again. At that very moment, the corpse on the *kang* suddenly sat up!