Week 15

  “Red Hair! Lady Red Hair! We require your expertise at once!”

  Huan Fu repeated the phrase in increasingly panicked tones, each time drawing the attention of the few mourners clustered under the canvas awnings.

  Calanthe tilted her head back and watched a swirl of mist drift over the grey roof tiles. She counted to ten, then twenty. The shouting only grew more shrill.

  “Red Hair! You must come, it’s urgent! You are needed at...” There was a sudden, wet thwack, followed by a choked yelp. Callie turned in time to see Zhao Tong lower his massive hand from the nape of Huan Fu’s neck.

  “Address her by a her proper name,” Zhao Tong said. “She’s... sensitive.”

  Huan Fu, half-collapsed on the steps, nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes. Dr. Calamansi [卡拉曼西医生] . My apologies. Please, Dr. Calamansi, your assistance is urgently needed.”

  Callie grunted, pulling herself upright and adjusting the collar of her coat. She watched as Zhao Tong shepherded the cemetery attendant across the plaza, the latter bowing at every third step in case Callie had developed a taste for public apologies.

  “Dr. Calamansi,” Huan Fu said. “The Corpse Eater 尸鳖 has returned.”

  Callie took a moment to savor the silence that followed. Briar let out a quiet “ah,” and Tanith’s lips pressed into a line, wondering whether it was better to be called “Red Hair” or a fruit.

  “That’s not my name,” Callie said, addressing the attendant in Mandarin. “再试一次.”

  Huan Fu looked at Zhao Tong, who whispered in his ear and gave him a single, terrifying nod.

  “Dr. Calanthe [卡兰特医生],” Huan Fu said, his voice almost a whimper. “The Corpse Eater is active again. It is... ” he searched for the right word, “making a feast.”

  The guest area at the edge of Greater Chang’An’s Necropolis was as far from festive as a public plaza could get. The stone benches were rough and low, each facing a raised platform where bodies could be viewed by relatives or, more often, inspected by the local sanitation official for plague and vermin.

  Tanith leaned in. “Have they confirmed it’s the same specimen? Some 伏尸 (Fú Shī) are known to migrate between crypts, especially during seasonal shifts.”

  Huan Fu brightened at the opportunity to say something helpful. “The stench is identical to last year,” he said.

  Callie turned to Huan Fu. “Why not just lock the gallery and hire adventurers to clear it out?”

  Huan Fu turned gray. “That is forbidden. The Keeper says only the Healer is allowed to touch the guest spirits. I have some Daoist skills myself but I would rather not... ”

  " ...deal with something so unclean," Callie thought. And we’re cheaper? “What about payment? Last time I got a jug of funeral wine and a coupon for half-price incense.”

  Huan Fu looked scandalized. “We can offer a jade token. It will give access to the Ghost City. Indefinitely.”

  Callie considered, then nodded. “Fine. But no more coupons.” She reached out instinctively for Ember but he wasn’t there. They had left him back at the inn since bad smells and wargs simply didn’t get along.

  They followed Huan Fu through a side gate and into the maze of burial terraces that spiraled down the hill. The lanterns here were dimmer, each giving off just enough light to mark the path and nothing more.

  As they moved, Callie thought about the absurdity of her situation. Some years ago, she’d been a surgeon: good, not great, but reliable. Now she was paid in mystical tokens to hunt down monsters that ate corpses for fun. She wondered if Belus or Abyssa watched these moments from the Liminal Library and laughed.

  They reached the Seventh Gallery, which was really just a squat wooden building at the bottom of the terraces. Callie ducked in first, squinting through the main viewport. She scanned the perimeter and immediately spotted the reason for their trip: near the base of a sloping mound, a Corpse Eater was rooting around a fresh grave.

  “Look at it go,” Briar whispered, nudging Callie to the side.

  “Stay here,” Callie said, her voice low and certain. “If you get any closer, the Bai Ze talisman might scare it off.”

  Briar, meanwhile, leaned into the viewport, copying everything into her ledger: posture, movement pattern, even the way the Corpse Eater’s fingers flexed when it gripped the dirt.

  Tanith cleared her throat. “It’s not a jiangshi 僵尸,” she began, her voice dropping to lecture mode. “Those are a different genus: stiff, not limber, and they hop instead of walk. This is a true Fú Shī, also called a Prostrate Corpse. They emerge at night to consume improperly buried corpses, or those whose rites were incomplete. Some believe the urge is spiritual rather than nutritional. It’s said they hunger for the mana of unresolved death.”

  Callie watched the monster, measuring its bulk and the way it shifted weight from foot to foot. She turned back to the group. “If it notices us, it’ll run. But if I can get close enough, I might be able to diagnose the cause of the overfeeding.”

  Briar looked up from her notes, her face a study in mixed terror and excitement. “Are you going now?”

  Callie nodded, checked the contents of her satchel, and slipped out into the mist.

  The ground crunched under her boots, but the fog dampened the sound after a few meters. She moved with deliberate slowness, stopping every few steps to let the monster acclimate to her presence. Callie reached the edge of the mound and crouched low, waiting for the monster to notice her.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The stench got to her first. Even at five meters, it clung to Callie’s nose and tongue. Its hair was a filthy, knotted mat, stuck to its scalp by clots. The hands, up close, were grotesque: nails like black sickles, fingers bent at the wrong joints, the whole effect somewhere between a starved ape and a fungus-ridden tree root.

  The monster barely looked at her. Instead, it cradled something grayish-red in its palm and gnawed at it with flat, grinding teeth. Only after a solid minute did it seem to notice her presence; it lifted its head and hissed in irritation.

  “Apologies,” Callie said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”

  The Corpse Eater scowled, then continued nibbling at the kidney, twisting it apart with a fussy delicacy that reminded her of a cat with a moth. When it was done, it licked its fingers clean, then spat gristle onto the headstone beside it.

  “Not a meal,” it said. “I’m doing this as a service.”

  The monster poked at the open grave, then jabbed a finger at the body below. “This one..." it paused for dramatic effect, “...died by execution. If I hadn’t eaten him, he would have turned into a jiangshi within three days. Then you’d have a real mess on your hands. You’re welcome.”

  Callie eyed the body, which was barely a body anymore: more a soggy collection of skin, wet organs, and bone.

  The monster looked up at her with a sly, sidelong glance. “You want a piece?”

  Before Callie could answer, the Corpse Eater produced a chunk of liver from the grave and held it up. “Good for the blood. Increases yin energy.”

  Callie shook her head politely. “I’ll pass. But thank you.”

  The monster shrugged and chewed off a sliver for itself.

  Behind her, the hide was silent, the party clearly listening in but making no move to intervene. Callie imagined Briar scribbling every word, Tanith doing a silent thesis in her head, Zhao Tong waiting for any hint of threat.

  Callie crouched to the monster’s level. “I’m not here to cause you trouble,” she said. “But your presence is causing unrest. The city is seeing it as a sign: bad luck, incoming war, famine, all the rest.”

  The Corpse Eater snorted. “Typical. Nobody ever blames the real monsters; greedy officials, corrupt monks, shitty parents. It’s always the Corpse Eater’s fault.”

  Callie found herself smiling. “I hear you.”

  The monster gnawed its prize, then grew suddenly serious. “You think I like this job? I used to be a person, you know. Had a name, a face. Got sick, died young. Woke up like this, covered in dirt, starving.”

  Callie softened a little. “You want to be cured?”

  The monster shook its head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one can cure you of being ‘human,’ right? The body’s wrong now. Too much yin, not enough of anything else.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the monster’s slow, methodical chewing.

  ***

  Then the air changed. The Corpse Eater’s posture went rigid, and its face blanked out, like a puppet’s string had been pulled tight. When it next spoke, the voice was still gravelly, but the cadence was unmistakably human; measured, sarcastic, and just a little bored.

  “Are you getting all of this, Calanthe?” The monster’s mouth formed her full name with a practiced femininity, syllables perfect.

  Callie’s breath caught. “Zhou Yu?” [*]

  “In the flesh, so to speak. Don’t worry, I’m not spying. I’m… piggybacking.”

  Callie took a knee, so they were almost eye to eye. “Is this about the Audit?”

  “No… You sorted that, right? It’s a personnel issue. I know Belus refused to give you the manual so I’m giving you a heads up. For old time’s sake. Belus is trying out a new policy—turn failed protagonists into ecosystem hazards. Keeps the population in check, recycles the narrative, that sort of thing. It’s all very organic. Adventurers cull them if they get too clever, but it’s easier to just… let them eat garbage.”

  Callie stared at the Corpse Eater, seeing now the hints of intelligence that weren’t there before. The precise way it parsed a sentence, the flicker of amusement at her expense.

  “Wait, are you telling me that this Corpse Eater used to be a protagonist in this world?”

  “Yes,” the Corpse Eater (Zhou Yu) replied. “It only happens when they refuse to die or leave the world properly. It happens from time to time.”

  “What kind of cockamanie scheme is that?” Callie shook her head in disgust. “Okay, I’ve seen much worse from the Boss but… And this is every monster?”

  “Almost every monster, but it depends on your definition of the word. The one I’m in doesn’t have much of a consciousness, more a bundle of habits. But sometimes they remember things. Little things. Like taste, or favorite colors, or old lovers.”

  The channel flickered. Zhou Yu’s voice returned, fainter this time: “You’re doing fine, by the way. They’re watching, but not closely. The Engine’s not going to audit you again. Unless you want them to. They say I can leave in seventy-three days so I’ll be in touch…”

  ***

  Callie tried to think of a reply, but the connection broke. The monster’s body shuddered, then collapsed sideways, drooling dark liquid into the grass. It struggled to its feet and blinked at her.

  By now, the graveyard’s temperature had dropped enough to turn the mist into a thin frost. The dirt was hard and every surface shimmered faintly under a rime of ice. Callie wasted no time: she set up her kit and mixed a salve of Gravebloom petals, Activated Charcoal, and Baijiu.

  The Corpse Eater eyed her with a wary hopefulness.

  “Sit,” Callie said, patting the ground in front of her. The monster hesitated, then did as instructed. Its limbs folded under its torso in an oddly dignified way, as if it remembered being human and wanted to be on its best behavior.

  “Hold still,” Callie added, and began working the salve into the tangled hair along its shoulders and neck. She used two wooden spatulas, pausing only to scrape off the worst of the crusted blood with a dull knife. The process was methodical, almost gentle. The monster closed its eyes, nostrils twitching, clearly savoring the alcohol fumes over the scent of its own decay.

  A gold notification flickered at the edge of Callie’s vision:

  [+2,000 XP: Applied successful healing/containment protocol to environmental hazard. XP divided among party: 400 each.]

  “There. That should keep your scent down until the next full moon,” Callie said.

  The Corpse Eater shuddered, then flexed its arms. “It works,” it said, in the old gravelly voice. “You’re better than the last Healer. She tried to fix me with lime and sulfur. I almost bit her face off.”

  “I made enough for two more applications,” Callie replied handing it two clay jars.

  The monster grinned. Its gums were a mottled purple, but there was something almost… grateful in the look it gave her. “If you’re ever in trouble,” it said, “tell them you helped Zhenzhen. Maybe it’ll buy you a minute.”

  “Duly noted,” Callie said.

  The monster seemed about to go, then remembered something. “There’s a lich in the outer courts. South of the city. It keeps escaping the Sixth Court of Hell and causing trouble in Chang’An. Right now it’s locked up, but… not for long.”

  Callie raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me a referral?”

  The Corpse Eater nodded. “A healer is a healer. And that one’s in worse shape than me. And… it’s causing me a lot of overtime. Have you seen the number of fresh graves lately? I mean, I like to eat but…”

  The Corpse Eater patted its bloated stomach, then shuffled off, blending into the predawn haze.

  Callie stayed there for a short while, replaying the conversation in her mind.

  When she returned to the hide, Briar looked up first. “You okay?”

  Callie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  Tanith cleared her throat. “It talked to you?”

  “It did,” Callie replied, voice tight. “And it wasn’t just a monster.” She didn’t mention the referral in the Sixth Court of Hell. She had no intention of ever going there.

  Zhao Tong closed the door behind her, sealing out the cold. “Nothing ever is.”

  ______

  [*] See Book 1 Chapter 1