Corpse Recovery Diver

Lin Shuyou held a map in his left hand and a compass in his right as he wandered around, finally finding his destination.

Everyone in their group had a compass as standard equipment, but aside from Tan Wenbin, who could use it to somewhat check Feng Shui, for Ah You, Meng Meng, and Run Sheng, the compass was just an oversized directional tool.

The coordinates pointed to a village under a township. Lin Shuyou took off his hiking pack, hugging it as he sat by the roadside.

Beside him was a residential house with a standalone small brick building, which was a toilet.

Soon after sitting down, a woman came out from the house to use the loo.

Without drawing the curtain, she turned her body, faced outwards, squatted slightly, pulled down her cotton pants, and sat directly on the wooden chair with two armrests.

Lin Shuyou only saw a flash of white before quickly turning his head away, his face reddening.

"Whose kid are you?"

The woman, having some idle time while relieving herself, questioned Lin Shuyou.

"I'm not from around here."

"Oh, speaking Mandarin, huh? Haha, where's your hometown?"

"Fujian."

"Fujian, huh? Aren't people there all business-savvy and rich?"

"No."

"I heard you folks from Fujian are all wealthy, building multi-storied houses back home."

At this moment, the woman sat as majestically as an Empress Dowager on a dragon throne, while Lin Shuyou felt like a blushing eunuch at her questioning.

Lin Shuyou thought he'd just sit there until she was finished, believing it would be quiet once she was done.

After all, the coordinates he found were here, and it was afternoon. He estimated the Evil would appear by nightfall.

But the woman's voice drew other women from nearby houses, and a few came over to start chatting.

As they talked, two of them also expressed the need to relieve themselves.

From time to time, they intentionally called out to Lin Shuyou, asking about his situation.

A handsome young out-of-towner sitting by the roadside with a pack was indeed intriguing.

Eventually, Lin Shuyou conceded, leaving the precise location, and moved to sit in front of a slightly more distant bungalow.

The bungalow was surrounded by farmland, with a creek flowing in front and a persimmon tree nearby.

Lin Shuyou sat down with his back against the tree roots. Though he was further away, the open plains made the initial coordinates still clearly visible.

And so he waited quietly until dusk.

Smoke started rising from the chimney of the bungalow as an old man carrying a toolbox and a saw returned home along the path.

He was a carpenter taking on odd jobs in nearby villages.

His children had moved out, and he preferred to stay, enjoying his freedom, living with just his wife in the old house.

The old man greeted Lin Shuyou warmly, initiating a conversation.

However, the old man spoke no Mandarin, and even understanding it seemed challenging.

During his stay at Mr. Li's house, Lin Shuyou had learned some Nantong dialect, but moving from one county to another, he realized he couldn't understand this old man's dialect at all.

The old and young exchanged indecipherable words under the persimmon tree for quite some time.

Later, the old man called into the house twice, and a grandma emerged from the kitchen side door, gave Lin Shuyou a smile, then returned inside.

The old man patted Lin Shuyou's shoulder, urging him to stand up.

Realizing this was an invitation to dinner, Lin Shuyou, aware of his own provisions, politely declined. But the more he refused, the more enthusiastically the old man insisted, nearly pulling him in mutual persuasion.

Despite the language barrier, the warmth was universal.

In the end, Lin Shuyou had no choice but to bow in gratitude and accept.

Dinner wasn't inside the house; two square stools served as tables outside, accompanied by three small stools.

This dining habit was quite similar to Mr. Li's family.

Except in rainy weather, Mr. Li's family also set up tables in the yard to eat, where they could chat with passersby on the village road during meals.

The dishes were simple: a bowl of braised potatoes and a bowl of greens with vermicelli.

Perhaps to entertain the guest, the grandma had also peeled three century eggs into a vinegar bowl and cut a plate of homemade sausages.

The old man intended to pour some wine for Lin Shuyou, but he quickly declined.

He explained that he had ghost-hunting to do that night and feared drinking might cause mishaps.

The old man didn't understand, and seeing Lin Shuyou start eating, he assumed the young man truly didn't drink, pouring himself a bowl of yellow wine.

The grandma used chopsticks to split a century egg, dipped it in vinegar, and placed half into Lin Shuyou's bowl.

Gratefully, Lin Shuyou extended his bowl to receive it, thanking her.

The potatoes were tender, the sausages aromatic, perfect for pairing with rice.

As a martial artist with a hearty appetite, Lin Shuyou finished two large bowls without realizing it.

As the grandma served him a third bowl, the old man, done with his wine and ready to eat, went into the kitchen to fill his bowl, finding only rice crust remaining.

Lin Shuyou realized he had eaten too much.

By this time, night had fallen.

Back at the initial coordinates, at some point, a stage had been erected.

Banners hung from both sides of the stage, with a large loudspeaker mounted on top.

Though the food was aromatic, Lin Shuyou was sure he hadn't been distracted; the stage had just appeared out of nowhere.

Someone began performing on stage,

"Clang clang clang! Clang clang clang!"

From the loudspeaker came the sound of child opera.

Lin Shuyou recalled Tan Wenbin mentioning this local opera, officially called Tong Opera.