Chapter Thirty-Three: The Water Ghosts of the Yellow River

I hadn’t expected Jin Yitiao to wake up more than three hours earlier than I’d planned. Before I could even trace the pale greenish-gold mist I’d noticed while searching the village, he and Tong Xiaomeng found me and said they’d take me to meet the Yellow River corpse retriever.

These so-called “River Ghosts” usually lived along the banks of the Yellow River, childless and alone, raising a black dog from a pup. In their courtyards stood a tall bamboo pole with an octagonal mirror tied to it—objects meant to ward off evil.

Whenever the corpse retriever returned home, the first thing he did was call his black dog and stand before the mirror. If nothing was amiss, he’d go inside, cook, and rest. But if the dog barked wildly and the mirror bore a bloodstain, he’d turn around and walk once more along the riverbank to cleanse himself of any lingering evil before returning.

Countless legends about these river ghosts circulated along the old banks of the Yellow River. Some claimed their black dogs were river dragons in disguise; others said the ghostly men grew up feeding on drowned corpses, their bodies thick with the stench of death, allowing them to approach the walking dead drifting in the water. But those tales seemed little more than superstition.

We’d originally brought gifts for the river ghost, but they were left on the boat, which had likely drifted far downriver by now. Left with no choice, we braced ourselves and went to visit him empty-handed. According to Jin Yitiao, after the revolution, all superstitions were to be eradicated—the bamboo pole in his yard had been snapped, the mirror smashed and thrown into the river, leaving only a gaunt old man and his skeletal black dog in a shabby courtyard.

Fortunately, the government, seeing he was alone and childless, designated him as a recipient of state welfare, providing him grain during the holidays; otherwise, he might have starved long ago.

We found the legendary river ghost in a tumbledown house right by the water’s edge.

When we entered, he was squatting in the yard, feeding leftovers to his emaciated black dog, dressed in a worn-out tunic. When we explained our purpose, he mulled it over for a long while before saying that if the female corpse in Hezi Village was dead yet uncorrupted, floating facedown in the river, she was likely a vengeful spirit—a formidable foe.

This was the first time even Jin Yitiao had heard of the female corpse in Hezi Village. He sat there, eyes wide in shock; I doubted he’d ever return to the old ancestral hall, solved or unsolved.

I sent Jin Yitiao out to smoke by the door, then quietly told the old river ghost the full story.

Throughout, the old man squinted, puffing on his long pipe. He offered no immediate opinion, only telling us not to wait there but to return at lunchtime—he’d give us an answer then, one way or another.

As we left, Tong Xiaomeng said, “He doesn’t seem willing to help us.”

“He hasn’t figured out what’s going on with these corpses yet,” I replied. “After all, this concerns people’s lives—he needs to be responsible.”

But as I walked away, I glanced back at the mountains hugging the riverbank. From this angle, the view looked oddly similar to what I’d seen from the boat. A suspicion stirred in my heart: Could the so-called “celestial cultivation” be none other than the black dog in the old man’s yard?

When the three of us returned to Liu Dehan’s house, he was already waiting inside.

Besides him, there was an older man with a sooty face. Each held a long opium pipe nearly a meter in length. As soon as we entered, they rose to greet us warmly.

Liu Dehan introduced the old man as Liu Baoguo, the village chief of Shanxia Village. It was he, Liu said, who’d originally unearthed the great turtle shell with a shovel, which had long been kept in his courtyard. When the government planned to relocate Shanxia Village, officials inquired after the shell’s whereabouts, so for safety’s sake, it was moved to Liu Dehan’s backyard.

Seated in the courtyard, we chatted for a while. Liu Baoguo asked Jin Yitiao how much he intended to pay to take the relic away, saying he didn’t want much—just enough to give every villager a little subsidy after the relocation.

Jin Yitiao asked what standard he had in mind. Liu Baoguo waved a hand: “Not much—ten thousand yuan per person!”

“How many people are there in your village?” I asked.

“Not counting migrant workers—about a hundred and ninety,” Liu replied.

Nearly two million yuan. I glanced at Jin Yitiao; his jaw clenched so tightly a line formed down his cheek. Picking at his fingers, he said, “Three thousand per person, not a penny more.”

Liu Baoguo shook his head. “A German once came to our village, offering twenty thousand per person. But I thought, our ancestors’ relics can’t end up in foreign hands, so I refused to sell. If that’s your offer, I’ll have someone take you across the river right now—I’ve other matters to attend to.”

Liu Baoguo’s stance was clear and firm, not so easily swayed as Liu Dehan. After all, a village chief has seen a thing or two. I shot Jin Yitiao a look, stopping him from blurting out a protest, and asked, “I heard other people have come to Shanxia Village before. Strangely, they’re nowhere to be seen. Is that true?”

I watched Liu Baoguo’s face for a reaction, but it was so dark that unless he was wildly happy or sad, it was impossible to read. He smacked his lips and said, “Some people have indeed come to our village recently.”

His frankness made me feel a little embarrassed. I asked, “Where are they now?”

“They left,” Liu Baoguo replied. “Don’t think I don’t know why you people from Beijing and Tianjin are here—you want to cheat us, buy the turtle shell for next to nothing, and sell it back home for a fortune. We may not be educated, but a turtle shell this size, even sold by the pound as medicine, is worth more than that. Three thousand per person is impossible—give up on that idea.”

With the conversation so barefaced, there was no more need for pretense. I glanced at Jin Yitiao—this was as far as I could help. The rest was up to him.

Jin Yitiao bared his teeth, slapped his thigh, and asked, “When you dug up the river, did you find anything else besides the turtle shell?”

Liu Baoguo answered, “Yes, just a few broken bottles and bowls. If you want them, take them with the shell as a bonus—they’re yours for free.”

At this, I figured Liu Baoguo must have had advice from someone knowledgeable. He’d anticipated our every move, leaving Jin Yitiao speechless.

Truth was, Jin Yitiao could afford the ten thousand per person. He’d already lined up a buyer for the turtle shell before coming; he wouldn’t have to pay a cent himself, just haggle the price down and pocket the difference. No matter how you calculated it, he couldn’t lose.

But with profits like these at stake, anyone would be tempted—shave just a thousand off the price, and that’s nearly two hundred thousand yuan in extra profit. My little shop by the East Gate wouldn’t earn that in years.

We all sat facing each other as Jin Yitiao gnawed his teeth in frustration. I smiled and said to Liu Baoguo, “How about this—let us think it over. A deal worth millions, even if we want to buy, we need our friends to pool some money. Give us one night. We’ll give you an answer first thing tomorrow.”

Liu Baoguo tapped his shoe with his opium pipe, emphasized again how hot the goods were, and left. Liu Dehan went to prepare lunch. As he walked into the kitchen, I pulled Jin Yitiao outside and said, “There’s someone else in this village besides the three of us.”

Jin Yitiao glared at me. “Of course! The whole village is full of people—what, you think they’re ghosts?”

I shook my head. “I mean there are other buyers here too. Liu Baoguo wants to drive up the price between us and them. Whoever bids higher gets the goods.”

Jin Yitiao smacked his thigh. “I knew that old fox was too shrewd—clearly he’s got someone advising him from the shadows.”

I nodded. “And according to the driver, these people have been living in the village for quite a while. The deal should have been struck long ago, but there’s still no movement. I suspect there’s something else going on beneath the surface.”