Chapter Four: Rules (Part 2)

After my elder brother established his strict rules, things quieted down considerably on his side. On the contrary, my troubles multiplied, as many people, holding onto slim hopes, came to plead with me, his younger brother, hoping my brother would bend the rules for my sake. I rejected them all outright. Later on, I almost wanted to hang up a banner myself, clarifying that my brother wouldn’t be swayed by my influence, and I had nothing to do with fishing out corpses.

About a week passed this way, when I suddenly received a phone call. These days, my phone rang endlessly with people appealing to my sense of connection, and I was about to hang up as usual when I noticed the last four digits were all eights—a number that certainly didn’t come cheap. It wasn’t that I was materialistic, but seeing that number, I thought it might be someone important, so I answered.

“Young man, it’s me, Tang Renjie. Do you remember?” came a middle-aged man’s voice.

“How could I forget you, Mr. Tang?” I replied. I almost asked how he’d gotten my number, but then thought, with his resources, that must have been an easy matter.

“It’s like this,” he said. “I have an uncle, a man of great stature—you understand what I mean, right? He once fought guerrilla battles near the Luo River. Many soldiers died, their bodies sinking into the river, ultimately swept into the Ghost Grotto. Recently we spoke of these things, and he’s quite interested in your brother, Sun Zhongmou. He also wishes to recover the remains of his old comrades. I know you have the ability—your grades were always good in school, and it’s a pity you’re assigned to a village. I wanted to approach your brother, but he has those strange rules. So, I’m asking your help. If this can be done, the rewards won’t be measured in money—you’re a smart man, you understand me. Let’s consider it a gesture of friendship.” Tang Renjie finished.

To be honest, I was tempted. The “man of great stature” Tang mentioned could decide the fate of someone as insignificant as me with a single phone call. This was a matter that could shape my entire life. But I remembered the cold look my brother gave me the day I brought Ma Laosan to discuss payment; it sent a chill through me. I said, “Mr. Tang, honestly, I’d like to help, but you know my brother. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

“I’ve heard as much. Zhongmou’s temper is certainly peculiar. How about this: just arrange a meeting. Whether it works out or not, I’ll owe you a favor. How about that?” Tang asked.

I hesitated. “Alright, Mr. Tang, wait for my call.”

After hanging up, I went straight to my brother’s house. Even though I was a bit afraid of him, I explained the situation, almost pleading, “I know you have your principles, but this concerns your brother’s future. Just meet with them—even if you refuse, that’s fine. Please, brother?”

He looked at me, nodded, and said, “A meeting is fine. The rules don’t bend.”

Tang Renjie quickly arranged a dinner, perhaps as a gesture of respect to my brother, at a countryside restaurant in Sanlitun. The place was filled with men in black suits standing ramrod straight, and curious villagers were driven off. The moment I entered, I felt uneasy—it had the air of a banquet with a hidden blade.

Inside the private room, an elderly man with a head of silver hair sat at the main seat, with Tang Renjie beside him. Seeing us, Tang stood up, beaming, “Yezi, Zhongmou, come sit. Let me introduce you—this is Mr. Liu, from Beijing.”

Mr. Liu stood and extended his hand. My brother stood unmoving. I quickly stepped forward, shaking Mr. Liu’s hand and explaining, “My brother doesn’t like contact with others. Please forgive him.”

Mr. Liu glanced at my brother but said nothing, sitting down.

We took our seats, and Tang Renjie opened a bottle of red wine, smiling, “Zhongmou, first time dining together. You must drink a few more glasses today.”

My brother picked up the glass and set it upside down on the table. “Yezi has told me what this is about. If it’s still that matter—forget it. A rule is a rule; it cannot be broken.”

The atmosphere instantly became awkward.

A flicker of anger passed over Tang Renjie’s face, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled, “Why so serious? I said, we’re just making friends, having dinner.”

My brother stood up and addressed Mr. Liu, “Sir, I respect you as a hero of the war years, and I understand your wish to bring your comrades’ remains home. You can come on the first day of the new year, and I will help you recover three. This bottle of wine, consider it my apology.”

With that, he drained the bottle in one go, cupped his fists to Mr. Liu and Tang Renjie, and said, “Farewell.”

He pulled me up to leave.

“So you come and go as you please? Do you take me for a lump of clay?” Tang Renjie slammed the table.

Suddenly, a dozen men burst in from outside, each wielding an iron club. My guts twisted with regret—I should never have brought my brother here!

“Mr. Tang, let’s talk this out. My brother’s always had this temperament. He’s helped you before, hasn’t he?” I pleaded.

But before I’d finished, a commotion erupted behind me. When I turned, my brother was smashing a man’s head against the door.

The room was small; the fight began and ended quickly. Soon, a dozen men lay sprawled on the floor, struggling to rise but unable.

My brother glanced at Tang Renjie. “Can we leave now?”

Tang looked at the bodies, his face pale and speechless.

My brother pulled me to the door. There, he abruptly stopped. I looked up and saw three men aiming guns at my brother’s head.

It was my first time seeing real guns. Though pointed at my brother, they were close enough to make my heart pound with fear. I looked back and saw Mr. Liu, who had remained silent throughout, now smiling at us.

My brother didn’t confront the guns but retreated step by step. The three men herded us back into the room at gunpoint.

“I’ve always admired young men with backbone and skill,” Mr. Liu said slowly.

My brother looked at him without a word.

“I didn’t come all this way to be dismissed with a bottle of wine. Give me a reason to accept your rules. Convince me, and you may go,” Mr. Liu said, his slow words carrying an unshakable authority.

My brother stared at Mr. Liu, who stared back. Neither blinked. The silent battle in their gazes was sharp enough to draw blood.

“I was given food and rules to live by. If I break them, the one to die will be me,” my brother said quietly.

Tang Renjie stood up, “By whom?!”

Mr. Liu’s expression changed at my brother’s words. He waved his hand. “Understood. You may go. I’ll come on New Year’s Day.”

My brother pulled me out of the restaurant. Not until I’d checked behind us several times did I dare wipe the cold sweat from my brow. My legs were still weak; everything that had just happened felt like a dream.

Back at my brother’s house, he poured me a glass of water. Only then did my heart settle a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect things would turn out like that,” I said.

He shook his head. “It’s alright.”

I felt awkward. Every time I was alone with him, I was on pins and needles. I had to admit, being with him was stressful.

After a while, I got up to leave. He walked me to the door, and as I left, he said, “Stay away from Tang Renjie. There’s something wrong with him. And that Mr. Liu—his intentions are not as simple as recovering his comrades’ remains.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Just a feeling,” my brother replied, and with that, he said no more, closing the door behind me.

—Tang Renjie never bothered me again, and Mr. Liu seemed to have left as well. Afterwards, my brother established a new rule: in addition to his previous rule of entering the Ghost Grotto only three times a year, charging a hundred thousand per trip, he added a strange supplement.

He would only save the living, not retrieve the dead.

He even hung up a banner stating so.

Many couldn’t understand—only saving the living, not retrieving the dead? What kind of corpse-fisher was that? If he only saved the living, wasn’t he just a rescuer?

Soon, something happened that made his meaning clear.

About ten miles from Sanlitun, four middle-school students went boating on the river. Strong winds capsized their boat, and the bodies couldn’t be found. Since my brother’s reputation was thriving, the parents came to him.

He had each parent write their child’s birth date and hour on red paper. After collecting the papers, he went upstairs.

Soon, he came down and told one parent, “I’ll save your child—he’s still alive.”

That parent fell to his knees in gratitude, but the others protested. My brother pointed to the banner outside. “It’s clear. I don’t retrieve the dead. You can find someone else to recover their bodies.”

He left, and sure enough, rescued one drowning boy, who was revived by waiting paramedics. The other three, recovered by other corpse-fishers, were already lifeless.

The family of the saved child came beating drums, waving a banner and money—ten thousand yuan—to thank my brother. He accepted only five hundred, refusing more. He would not enter the Ghost Grotto to save the living for less or more than five hundred per time—no exceptions.

My brother’s reputation soared. People nearly revered him as a deity.

His techniques—finding bones by blood, determining life or death by the eight characters of birth—became legendary. People whispered that he was a hidden master of yin and yang.

Even his peers respected him deeply. By refusing to retrieve the dead, he left others a way to make a living. Otherwise, with him around, it would have been hard for anyone else in the trade.

Some praised his skills as miraculous; others called him pretentious. “A corpse-fisher talking about virtue, making so many rules—who does he think he is?” To that, I scoffed.

After seeing him single-handedly take on a dozen men, I understood one thing—

It’s not just heroes in tales who have peculiar rules.

Only true heroes have the strength to uphold them.

And my brother, without question, was a true hero.