Chapter 811: Qin Yi

"I'm a failure, hardly paying attention to whether the sunshine is bright or not, because I have no time.

"My parents couldn't provide me with any support, my education wasn't high, and I was alone in the city searching for a future.

"I applied for many jobs, but none of them would hire me—perhaps no one likes a person who isn't good at speaking, doesn't love to communicate, and hasn't shown enough ability.

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"I ate only two loaves of bread for three whole days; hunger kept me from sleeping at night. Fortunately, I had paid a month's rent in advance, so I could still stay in that dark basement and didn't have to go outside and endure the unusually cold wind of winter.

"Finally, I found a job—keeping night watch at a hospital, guarding the morgue.

"The hospital nights were colder than I had imagined. The wall lamps in the corridor weren't lit; everywhere was dim, and I could only rely on the little bit of light seeping out from the rooms to see my feet.

"The smell there was hard to bear. From time to time, the dead were stuffed into body bags and sent over, and we worked together to help carry them into the morgue.

"This isn't a very good job, but at least it lets me afford bread. The free time at night can also be used to study—after all, not many people are willing to come to the morgue, unless a corpse needs to be delivered or taken away for cremation. Of course, I don't yet have enough money to buy books, and right now I can't see any hope of saving up.

"I have to thank my former colleague—if he hadn't suddenly quit, I might not even have been able to get a job like this.

"I dream of being able to rotate to the day shift. Right now I always sleep when the sun comes up and get up after night falls, which has made my body a bit weak, and my head occasionally throbs.

"One day, the porters delivered a new corpse.

"From what others said, this was my former colleague who had suddenly quit.

"I was a little curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the cabinet and quietly opened the body bag.

"He was an old man, his face both blue and white, covered in wrinkles, and under the very dim lighting he looked terrifying.

"He didn't have much hair, most of it white, and all his clothes had been stripped off—not even a single piece of fabric left on him.

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"I saw a strange mark on his chest, a blue-black one. I couldn't describe its exact shape—the lighting at the time was really too dim.

"I reached out and touched that mark. Nothing special.

"Looking at this former colleague, I was thinking—if I keep going on like this, when I'm old, will I end up just like him…

"I said to him that tomorrow I would accompany him to the crematorium and personally bring his ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so as to spare those in charge of such matters the trouble of carelessly finding a river or some wasteland to dump them.

"This will cost me one morning of sleep, but that's fine—Sunday is coming up, so I can make it up.

"After saying that, I fixed up the body bag and stuffed it back into the cabinet.

"The light inside the room seemed to grow dimmer…

"After that day, every time I slept, I would always dream of a great fog.

"I have a premonition that something will happen soon, a premonition that sooner or later something that may or may not be called a human will come looking for me. But no one is willing to believe me; they think that working in that kind of environment, my mind has become a little abnormal, and I need to see a doctor…"

A male guest sitting at the bar looked toward the storyteller who had suddenly stopped:

"And then?"

This male guest was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and pale yellow trousers, his hair pressed very flat, with a shabby dark bowler hat beside him.

He looked ordinary, just like most of the people in the tavern—black hair, light blue eyes, neither good-looking nor ugly, lacking any obvious distinguishing features.

And the storyteller in his eyes was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, with a tall, upright build and long limbs, likewise black short hair and light blue eyes, yet with deep, striking features that could catch one's eye at a glance.

This young man gazed at the empty wine glass before him and sighed:

"And then?

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"And then I quit my job and went back to the countryside, here to shoot the breeze with you."

As he spoke, a smile spread across his face—a smile with a teasing edge.

That male guest was taken aback for a moment:

"Everything you just told was shooting the breeze?"

"Haha." A burst of laughter erupted around the bar.

When the laughter briefly subsided, a thin middle-aged man looked at the somewhat embarrassed guest and said:

"Outsider, you actually believed Lumian's story. What he tells every day is different—yesterday he was still a poor wretch whose engagement was broken off by his fiancée because of poverty, and today he's turned into a morgue keeper!"

"Right on, saying things like thirty years on the east bank of the Serenzo River, thirty years on the right bank of the Serenzo River—all he knows is Hu Yan!" another tavern regular chimed in.

They were all farmers from Cordu, this large village, wearing short jackets of black, gray, or brown.

The black-haired young man called Lumian braced both hands on the bar, slowly stood up, and said with a smile:

"You all know this isn't a story I made up—they're all written by my older sister. She loves writing stories the most; she's even a column writer for some Novel Weekly."

After saying that, he turned sideways, spread his hands toward the outsider guest, and said with a bright smile:

"Looks like she really wrote it well.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding."

The man in the brown tweed jacket, ordinary in appearance, didn't get angry; he stood up as well and replied with a smile:

"A very interesting story.

"What should I call you?"

"Isn't it common sense to introduce yourself before asking others?" Lumian said with a smile.

The outsider guest nodded:

"My name is Ryan. Coze.

"These two are my companions, Valentine and Leah."

That last sentence referred to the man and woman sitting right beside him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a little powder dusted over his blond hair. His not-so-large eyes were a shade deeper than lake-blue. He wore a white waistcoat, a blue fine-tweed jacket, and black trousers, clearly having taken great pains with his appearance before going out.

His expression was rather cold, and he paid little attention to the farmers and herdsmen around him.

That woman looked younger than the two men. Her light gray long hair was tied into a complicated bun, wrapped in a white veil serving as a hat.

Her eyes were the same color as her hair. The gaze she turned on Lumian carried undisguised amusement, and she seemed to find what had just happened merely interesting.

Under the tavern's gas wall lamps, the woman called Liya revealed a pert nose and beautifully curved lips — by the standards of a backwater village like Cordu, she was unquestionably a beauty.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere body-hugging dress, paired with an off-white short jacket and a pair of Maxir long boots; a veil and the boots each had a small silver bell tied to them, and when she walked into the tavern just now, she went jingling and jangling all the way, drawing every eye, and plenty of the men stared straight at her.

In their eyes, this was the sort of fashionable getup you'd only see in big cities like the provincial capital of Bigoel or the capital of Trier.

Lumian nodded to the three out-of-towners:

"I'm Lumian Li. You can just call me Lumian."

"Li?" Liya blurted out.

"What? Is there something wrong with my surname?" Lumian asked curiously.

Ryan Cos helped Liya explain:

"Your surname inspires dread. I almost couldn't keep my voice steady just now."

Seeing the farmers and herdsmen around them looking baffled, he went on:

"Anyone who's dealt with sailors or sea merchants knows there's a saying that goes around on the Five Seas:

'Better to run into those pirate generals — even the Sea Kings themselves — than to meet a man called Frank Li.'

"That man's surname is also Li."

"Is he very fearsome?" Lumian asked.

Ryan shook his head:

"I don't know, but if there's a legend like that, he can't be far off."

He dropped the subject and said to Lumian:

"Thanks for the story. It deserves a drink. What'll you have?"

"A 'Green Fairy,'" Lumian said, not standing on ceremony at all, and sat back down.

Ryan Cos frowned slightly:

"'Green Fairy'… absinthe?

"I think I should warn you — wormwood is harmful to the human body. This kind of liquor can cause mental derangement and hallucinations."

"I didn't expect Trier's latest trend had already spread all the way here." Liya beside him added with a smile.

Lumian let out an "Oh":

"So Trier folk like 'Green Fairy' too…

"For us, life is already hard enough — there's no need to worry about a little extra harm. This kind of liquor lets our spirits relax more."

"Fine." Ryan sat back down and looked at the bartender. "One 'Green Fairy,' and add me a 'Spicy Heart.'"

"Spicy Heart" was a famous fruit brandy.

"Why not get me a 'Green Fairy' too? I'm the one who told you the truth just now, and I can tell you every last detail about this kid's situation!" the lean middle-aged man who'd been the first to expose Lumian's daily storytelling shouted indignantly. "Out-of-towners, I can tell you still have doubts about whether that story was true!"

"Pierre, for a free drink you'd do anything!" Lumian called back loudly.

Before Ryan could decide, Lumian added:

"Why can't I tell it myself? Then I could get one more 'Green Fairy.'"

"Because they don't know whether to believe what you say." The middle-aged man called Pierre said with a smug grin. "Your sister's favorite story for the children is 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf.' A man who always lies must lose his credit."

"Fine." Lumian shrugged and watched the bartender slide a pale-green drink over to him.

Ryan looked at him and asked:

"Is that all right?"

"No problem, as long as your wallet can cover the cost of all these drinks." Lumian didn't care in the slightest.

"Then one more 'Green Fairy,'" Ryan nodded.

Pierre's face immediately broke into a grin:

"Generous out-of-towners, this kid is the biggest prankster in the village. You must keep your distance from him.

"Five years ago, his sister Aurore brought him back to the village, and he's never left since. Think about it — before that, he was only thirteen. How could he have been a corpse-watcher at a hospital? The nearest hospital to us is in Daliyet down the mountain, and it's a full afternoon's walk."

"Brought back to the village?" Liya asked sharply.

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingling sound.

Pierre nodded:

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"After that, he took Aurore's surname 'Li,' and even the name 'Lumian' was given by Aurore."

"I don't even remember what I was called before." Lumian took a sip of absinthe and said with a grin.

He didn't seem the least bit self-conscious or ashamed at having his past aired like this.