Before the peach blossom flood arrived, Chow and I spent most of our time in his small courtyard, with him telling stories and me listening. Time flew by, and soon the peach blossom flood came, causing the Yellow River to swell. Chow’s work began in earnest.
In recent years, due to marriages, relationships, careers, and accidental drownings, the number of corpses in the Yellow River had increased. At its busiest, Chow had retrieved seven corpses in a single day. While there were other corpse retrievers on the Yellow River, Chow was the most famous because he was the only one who dared to retrieve “upright corpses.” His claims about killing water monkeys weren’t exaggerated either—I’d seen several water monkey pelts nailed to the wall in his storage room.
That afternoon, we received a call from villagers saying that Xiang, the foolish girl from Shili Crossing, had drowned, and her body had floated into the reed marshes. I never expected my first corpse retrieval would be her.
I knew Xiang. Her life was tragic. Orphaned at a young age, she went out to work but was deceived, got pregnant, and ended up mentally ill after losing the child. She was sent back to the village, where she wandered around, often taken advantage of by local ruffians who would give her snacks in exchange for favors.
This job was a public service, with no payment. Xiang had no family to pay for her retrieval, and Chow, who had no wife or children, didn’t care much about money. He took on the task without hesitation.
When we arrived at Shili Crossing, a few elderly villagers were standing by the shore, waiting to collect Xiang’s body for burial. Without much talk, Chow greeted the person in charge and rowed his “rotten boat” into the reed marshes. The term “rotten boat” isn’t about the boat’s condition but a specific term: good boats carry the living, rotten boats carry the dead.
Since it was my first time retrieving a corpse, I was nervous. Although the reeds were just sprouting and the marsh wasn’t too eerie, the vast expanse of wild grass still felt unsettling. Following the villagers’ directions, we quickly found Xiang’s body.
She was floating face up among a circle of dead branches and leaves, her black hair spread out behind her. The buttons on her tattered cotton jacket had come undone, revealing her pale chest, which gleamed starkly against the surroundings. I’d always seen her dirty and unkempt, but now she looked clean and peaceful, as if she were just asleep.
“Lan, you’ll handle this one,” Chow said, lighting a cigarette.
“What? I’m just starting out. Shouldn’t you show me how it’s done first?” I was shocked.
“There’s nothing to show. Just do as I’ve taught you. She’s from the village, and her death was peaceful. No evil spirits here—it’s a good chance for you to build your courage.”
“Alright then.”
I figured I’d have to get close to corpses eventually, so this was as good a time as any to start.
Unlike professional retrieval companies that use nets and hooks, corpse retrievers work differently. Corpses in water are already bloated, and using metal tools could damage them, making it hard to justify charging the families. Retrievers enter the water themselves, first covering the corpse with white cloth, then binding it with a rope mixed with black dog hair before carrying it onto the boat.
After I agreed, Chow took out a white cloth and expertly covered Xiang’s body. I stripped down to my shorts, took the binding rope, and carefully entered the water. The cold immediately gave me goosebumps.
I slowly swam toward Xiang’s body, first tying a red string around her right arm. This act, called “establishing a contract,” is done on the right arm for women and the left for men, signifying that I would be the one to care for her and bring her ashore.
Being extra cautious, I completed the retrieval without a hitch, quickly binding Xiang’s body and bringing her onto the boat. But the job wasn’t over yet. As part of the payment, retrievers take something from the corpse. However, Xiang had nothing but her tattered jacket—her pants had been washed away by the water. Chow had told me that in such cases, if there’s nothing to take, we must take a lock of the deceased’s hair. Leaving empty-handed is forbidden.
Hair is called the “thread of sorrow.” If Xiang had no grievances, it wouldn’t matter, but if she did, her resentment might linger in the hair, bringing misfortune to whoever took it. Chow and I exchanged glances, neither of us speaking.
“Cough, Lan, your fate is strong. You do it,” Chow said.
“Hah,” I couldn’t help but laugh coldly.
First, he tricked me into entering the water, and now he wanted me to cut a dead person’s hair. Chow’s audacity was something else.
“Two thousand?”
“Hah,” I continued to laugh coldly.
“Five thousand. That’s my final offer. This job was a public service, and I’m already losing money. If you still won’t do it, buy a train ticket back to Guangzhou tomorrow.”
Chow’s words hit home, and I stopped laughing. Five thousand yuan wasn’t bad—I’d struggled to save that much in a year of working in Guangzhou.
So I cut a lock of hair from Xiang’s forehead, pocketed it, and Chow rowed the boat back to shore, handing the body over to the villagers for burial.
The job went smoothly. I earned money and built my courage. The only oddity was that I had to keep Xiang’s hair for forty-nine days before burning it. In our area, it’s believed that the deceased’s connection to the living lasts for forty-nine days, and it’s disrespectful to do anything harmful to them during this time.
After retrieving Xiang’s body, Chow seemed to take me for granted, assigning me to every subsequent job. And as he’d said, I seemed born for this work. After a few retrievals, I had no more reservations, treating it like any other job.
Retrieving corpses was indeed lucrative. At this rate, I’d save enough for a wedding after working through the Yellow River’s four flood seasons. One more year, and I could even buy a car, living a comfortable life.
Young people forget quickly. I was so focused on making money that I’d long forgotten about Xiang—until I attended a peculiar wedding.
Rural customs can be dark, and “ghost marriages” are one of them. A relative of mine had a son who died at sixteen, and to prevent him from being lonely in the afterlife, they arranged a ghost marriage for him. As part of the tradition, invitations were sent out.
My parents found it inauspicious and refused to go, and my brother was busy taking care of his pregnant wife, so the task fell to me. I figured I’d go for the experience and informed Chow before attending.
The wedding was nothing special—paper offerings everywhere, with the main event being the joint burial, where the couple’s bones were placed together. The groom had been dead for half a year, and his body was severely decomposed, emitting a foul odor. The bride, however, seemed newly deceased. Aside from her swollen face, her body was intact. I heard my relative had paid over fifty thousand yuan to grave robbers for her corpse.
Honestly, I admired those willing to spend that kind of money and those daring enough to engage in such a trade. Karma is real, and grave robbing is a heinous act.
Being bold, I stood close during the joint burial and couldn’t help but examine the bride’s body more closely. That’s when I noticed a major issue: a lock of hair was missing from the left side of her forehead. My heart skipped a beat—that was exactly where I’d cut Xiang’s hair during the retrieval.
At first, I tried to convince myself it was a coincidence, but when I saw the red mole on her neck, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The bride was Xiang.
It had only been a month—not enough time for the forty-nine-day period to pass. She had died tragically by drowning, and now her body had been dug up and sold for a ghost marriage. Whether she consented or not, her name and birthdate were likely fabricated by the grave robbers. Could she rest in peace?
Xiang was indeed foolish, but her condition stemmed from trauma, not an incomplete soul. After death, the soul regains clarity. Realizing the bride was Xiang, I lost all interest in the wedding feast, excused myself, and rushed back to find Chow.
“What? Xiang was dug up for a ghost marriage?” Chow was drinking tea and nearly choked when I told him.
“Chow, will she come after me?”
“Of course! You tied the red string and established the contract. Her body is your responsibility. Now that this has happened, who else would she come after?” He then muttered, “Good thing I didn’t cut her hair.”
I was furious that Chow could make such a flippant remark at a time like this and almost lunged at him.
“Don’t be impulsive, young man. Even if she comes after you, you’ll be fine.”
“Why?” I asked, suppressing my anger.
“Some things are better left unsaid. Someone will protect you when the time comes,” Chow said mysteriously.