Chapter 4: The Bai Family

Before I even reached the doorway of Pi Sansha’s house, the sound of crying drifted out to meet me—Pi Sansha was dead. At that moment, a girl of about thirteen clung to his corpse, her tears streaming as she wept herself into a bundle of sorrow. My gaze fixed tightly on the body laid out on the straw mat; Pi Sansha did not look like someone newly dead, but rather as if he'd been gone for more than a decade.

Tendrils of black mist were visible curling from his body—a sign that he might soon become a corpse-walker.

“Brother Xizi, my father…” Pi Lin’er’s sobs trembled like pear blossoms in the rain. When she saw me come in, her delicate face was etched with helplessness.

I reached out to wipe away the snot and tears on her face and said, “Little sister Lin'er, please accept my condolences. Don’t worry—your brother Xizi will look after you from now on.”

At these words, her grief deepened. She threw her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder and weeping even harder.

Because Pi Sansha was the sole survivor of the “Prosperity,” many relatives of the other crew members had come to help with his funeral arrangements. They wanted to give him a lively send-off, a way to express their feelings for their own lost kin by saying a final farewell through Pi Sansha.

Thus, even though I knew he might turn into a corpse-walker, there was little I could do. I placed two pieces of an herb called Spirit Poria in his hands; the River Suppression Manual says this medicine calms the living and restrains corpse transformation for the dead.

Our local custom is to keep the body at home for three days, and before burial, to wash the deceased with water from the Yellow River. When everyone gathered to wash Pi Sansha, I saw an eerie talisman on his chest—the Hundred Insects Curse, described in the River Suppression Manual, said to keep a corpse limber and uncorrupted.

I knew the handwriting well—it was my grandfather’s. Even after studying the River Suppression Manual for over a decade, I could only ensure a corpse would not stiffen for three days with this charm, but my grandfather had managed to extend Pi Sansha’s shadow-life for ten years. His mastery was profound.

On the day of Pi Sansha’s funeral, the coffin lid was lifted for a final viewing. Inside, I saw thick black mists, and the entire house was filled with the putrid, muddy scent of the Yellow River—a sign of impending corpse transformation. The two pieces of Spirit Poria I’d used were now useless.

To protect the village, I took a gourd my grandfather had once used, filled it with Yellow River water, and escorted the funeral procession out of the village.

But at the village entrance, my fears were realized. Ahead of us, a fleet of a dozen luxury cars blocked the road. Instead of making way for the funeral, they parked directly in front of us, forcing our procession to a halt. Some hot-tempered villagers shouted curses at the cars, but then dozens of burly men in suits stepped out, glaring at us, and no one dared speak further.

“Mr. Bai, I’ve told you before, that boy Pi Yangxi’s fate is sealed—there’s no need to worry so much about Miss Bai Xiaoli’s marriage!” Last to emerge was a withered old man in a white robe. Seeing our funeral party, he even seemed to smile.

Beside him stood a sturdy, middle-aged man in a suit. Relieved at the sight of the funeral, he said, “Master Chen Yetian, you truly are River Crossing City’s foremost feng shui master—your divinations are always accurate. It’s a shame about that Pi family lad, dying so young. It seems he and my Xiaoli were never meant to be.”

When Chen Yetian stepped from his car, I noticed a familiar earthy scent about him, though I couldn't at first recall where I’d smelled it before.

It was only as I listened to their conversation that I remembered—the same scent had clung to the female corpse I’d encountered at the Yellow River ferry last night.

So, it was this feng shui master, Chen Yetian, who wanted me dead!

Judging by his current look of satisfaction, he was certain I’d perished, mistaking Pi Sansha in the coffin for me.

But I’d never wronged this feng shui master—why would the so-called first master of River Crossing City want to harm me?

Fortunately, Chen Yetian didn’t leave me puzzled for long. He continued, “Mr. Bai Ranhe, now that Pi Yangxi is dead, you’re no longer in violation of your agreement with the Yellow River Dragon King, and you needn’t fear the consequences of breaking the betrothal.”

“Yes, now I can rest easy. The Yellow River Dragon King is not to be trifled with!” Bai Ranhe turned to gaze in the direction of the river, paused, and then went on, “Over a decade ago, just a few words from the Dragon King raised me from a fisherman on the banks to the richest man in River Crossing. If I were to break off the engagement, who knows what terrible fate might befall me?” From Bai Ranhe’s expression of relief, it was clear he had never wanted to fulfill the marriage contract.

Their smug faces disgusted me. For twenty years I, Pi Yangxi, had lived an upright life, and yet there were those who hoped for my death. I wondered how they would react when they discovered I was still alive.