The Corpse I Sewed Can Talk

My hands have sewed people who died violently, died in vain, and died unjustly. I have been sewing corpses in a funeral home for three years, and this is the first time that one walked in on its own in the middle of the night. He has a face that is flawless and perfect to the extreme, but his body from the neck down is made of bloody nanmu. He looked at me and said two words softly: "Sew me." I refused: "... I can only sew people to death." He looked at me quietly, "Then I am your exception." The first needle landed between his eyebrows, and I saw him standing in the vast wilderness of the universe with his hands behind his back. The second needle fell on his heart, and the image of him being violently dismembered and scattered all over the place reappeared in my mind. The severe pain swept through me instantly... He opened his eyes and said, "You sewed me up, so you have to take care of me."