He is the town’s “death beautifier,” the last heir of the Lin family. The Lin family’s ancestral rule: Never prepare the bodies of those who died violently, unjustly, or with grievances, or you will be tainted by “defilement.”
But tonight, he broke that rule. The deceased was the daughter of the Li family in the eastern part of town. She had drowned herself in the river, and by the time they pulled her out, her face was bloated beyond recognition. Her fingers were still clutching a strand of withered waterweed that did not belong to her. The town’s only hearse was stuck in the mud, while the Li family’s elderly relatives knelt outside the door, wailing in anguish.
Lin Shouzhuo sighed and opened the ancestral sewing kit. The needles inside were neither gold nor iron, and their surfaces were dull. They were said to have been made from the cores of fallen stars, and could “stitch together” things that did not belong to the world of the living.
His hands steady, he wiped the body with a special potion and used powder made through secret methods to cover the bruises. Everything went smoothly until he picked up the last needle, ready to stitch shut the slightly parted lips, as if they still wanted to say something.
Just as the needle’s point was about to touch the pale skin, the dim incandescent bulb in the mortuary went out with a snap.
In the absolute darkness and silence, Lin Shouzhuo heard a voice.
It did not come from outside the door, nor from the wind and rain.
The voice was right beside his ear, carrying the damp sound of riverbed silt and bursting bubbles, and whispered softly:
“Did you... see my... face?”
Like it, looks good