Chapter 80.2: The Letters on the Sand

Everything described about the Dead Sinkers that followed in the book served to validate one idea: a Dead Sinker is not the same person they were in life.

In each letter, whenever the resurrection scheme seemed to be progressing smoothly, Ran Qiuping’s tone toward Mao Zhushan would grow affectionate. She’d talk about introducing him to her daughter once she came back, maybe even matchmaking. But the moment Mao Zhushan delayed the plan or said something had gone wrong, Ran Qiuping would lash out—her letters becoming hysterical.

Li Zhuiyuan’s judgment had been right.

Whether it was Sun Hongxia or Ran Qiuping, both were nothing more than puppets—manipulated and deceived. Their minds and worldviews had been completely warped.

The girl wrote swiftly, and Li Zhuiyuan read just as fast. Amid the scribbles, he picked up on a few things: the General’s Temple, something hidden from her Master.

Piecing that together with his earlier fieldwork, a clearer subplot emerged.

After Qiu Minmin died, Ran Qiuping was devastated. She then came into contact with Mao Zhushan—a disciple of the Corpse Retrievers from the General’s Temple. He was the same young man Li Zhuiyuan had seen there, comforting Ran Qiuping.

Mao Zhushan had promised to resurrect Qiu Minmin. As a result, Minmin became a Dead Sinker, frequently haunting the second-floor dance studio of the student union building.

During this period, Sun Hongxia, brainwashed and guilt-ridden by Ran Qiuping, kept watch and helped cover for her.

Recent letters repeatedly mentioned that “the date is drawing near”—a sign that Mao Zhushan’s grand plan was nearing its final stages.

But this plan wasn’t really about resurrecting Qiu Minmin. It had to be something else—Mao Zhushan’s own agenda.

At this critical moment, Runsheng and Yin Meng showed up, each equipped like proper Corpse Retrievers. When Ran Qiuping saw their gear while moving dorm luggage, she must’ve recognized the similarity to what she’d seen with Mao Zhushan’s group. She probably reported it, thinking the plan had been exposed and outside Corpse Retrievers had come to sabotage them.

One recent letter to her daughter detailed the presence of four intruders—Ran Qiuping even reassured her daughter not to worry, saying she’d deal with them all herself. No one, she wrote, would stop her beloved girl from returning.

Once the letters stopped, the girl withdrew her hand.

That’s when Li Zhuiyuan realized—this girl wasn’t one of Ran Qiuping’s group. She seemed more like a native haunting of the dormitory—an entity tied to the building itself.

Ran Qiuping’s letters never mentioned her directly. There was only one offhand remark:

“Minmin, today I found a beautiful pair of high heels in the dorm. No idea who left them, but I’ll take it as your birthday present to me.”

Finding a pristine pair of women’s high heels in the men’s dormitory—that was odd.

Then again, maybe someone bought them for a girlfriend, or had some peculiar fetish.

Either way, that’s how the girl became entangled with Ran Qiuping.

The reason was simple: spending too much time around Qiu Minmin—especially her Dead Sinker form—would gradually weaken one’s luck and attract malevolent spirits.

So that night, when Li Zhuiyuan first moved in and heard the sound of high heels… was it a warning?

No. That wasn’t it.

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. It wasn’t that he couldn’t admit his own mistake, but in his experience, there was no need to over-anthropomorphize these entities.

She was probably just bored and lonely—playing tricks for fun.

That first night, she tried to approach him and got scared off.

Tonight, with him away, she decided to mess with Lu Yi instead—and nearly broke him.

Lu Yi might have survived, but being targeted by a malevolent spirit could still wreck someone. Best-case scenario: nerve damage, chronic misfortune, illness. Worst-case: driven mad, leaping off a dormitory rooftop.

Lu Yi had lucked out. If not for Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin, he might’ve become another tragic tale passed down in the dorm’s late-night gossip sessions:

“Hey, did you hear? One of the upperclassmen on our floor jumped wearing women’s high heels…”

Li Zhuiyuan picked up the leather whip and draped it over Tan Wenbin’s hand. The girl instantly shrank away.

“All done.”

Tan Wenbin retracted his hand and tucked it into his clothes to warm it up—only to yank it back out with a cry. Too cold to bear.

“Wenbin, apply the black dog’s blood.”

The symptoms were only sensory illusions. The girl didn’t have a physical body—there was no real frostbite.

Wenbin fumbled in his pocket, then looked awkward. His ink paste had spilled earlier, completely ruined. No way he was going to chase a black dog for blood right now.

“Brother Yuan… my ink paste…”

Li Zhuiyuan reached into his pocket with his left hand, pressed his finger into his own ink paste, and drew a sigil on Wenbin’s hand.

“Ahh… that’s the stuff…”

His frozen hand felt instantly defrosted—like stepping into a field of birdsong and blossoms.

Wenbin staggered back several steps and flopped to the floor, but grinned all the while.

That was the sensory whiplash talking. The sudden reversal made it feel almost euphoric.

If Li Zhuiyuan had held the pen himself, he’d have felt only a mild chill. But to someone like Wenbin, it was overwhelming.

Not that there was any choice. The girl was too afraid to touch Li Zhuiyuan. Only Wenbin could do it.

It was like in all those strange tales—old Daoists or monks always had a young apprentice trailing them. Not because they needed to pass the torch—but because some rituals and methods were too potent for seasoned masters.

Take “inviting spirits,” for example. The more advanced your cultivation, the harder it was. The summoned entities feared being devoured or bound by you. But for beginners with just enough skill and strong bodies, success was easier.

Wenbin finally got back on his feet.

“You alright, Wenbin?”

“I’m fine. Recovered.” His face was all seriousness—no way he’d admit how good it had felt.

“Mm.”

“What was all that writing?” He hadn’t had time to read it while holding the pen.

Li Zhuiyuan summarized the contents. Wenbin listened and said, “Then it’s confirmed—they were plotting against us. In that case, let’s stick to the plan. Tomorrow night at the General’s Temple—we demand an explanation!”

“They weren’t looking to talk when they attacked Runsheng. They were aiming to kill.”

Wenbin gulped, then nodded vigorously and clenched his fists.

“Right. We’ll kill them first!”

Big Brother had made the call. As the sidekick, all he could do was escalate.

Wenbin still remembered the scene by the river—the mangled, floating bodies of the dwarf father and son. He remembered how Brother Yuan had blinded himself just to get revenge.

Since then, every “Brother” he uttered carried real weight.

If someone truly enraged Brother Yuan, then Brother Yuan would make sure their family got a memorial feast—with no one left to eat it.

But whatever the danger, following this leader never felt stifling.

Li Zhuiyuan looked at the girl by the desk.

“Your remains… are they nearby?”

The girl nodded.

“When I graduate and leave this place, I’ll find your remains and perform your last rites. Until then, behave. Otherwise, I’ll suppress you and earn merit.”

The girl nodded again.

Li Zhuiyuan picked up the teacup. It was empty—Tan Wenbin had just drunk the last of it.

“Oh! I got it!” Wenbin grabbed the thermos and poured fresh water.

Li Zhuiyuan touched the cup’s side and paused.

“Wenbin, bring some cold water.”

“Got it, Brother. Be right back.”

Wenbin took the cup, dumped the hot water outside, fetched cold water from the hallway, and handed it back to him.

Then he stood by attentively, watching every move.

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