I had no interest in dealing with him. I grabbed the key, first pushed his cart to the back door of the guesthouse, then went to my own room, wrapped the old man's corpse in a blanket, slung it over my back, covered my head, and ran straight for the back door.

Early in the morning, a staff member outside saw me and thought I had just come back from the morning market. Jokingly, he said: Boss Foster, you must have had a good day today, huh? Such a big bundle—what is it, did you collect a terracotta warrior or a clay figurine?

I greeted him back, mumbling vaguely, cursing his ancestors in my heart with every word, then ran downstairs and rolled the corpse onto the cart.

As soon as I flipped it down, I felt my back was absurdly wet. I touched it—sticky, with a strange smell. I didn’t have the mind to care about it at the time. I got on the cart and pedaled straight for the bridge underpass.

I’d been to this area every year, so I knew it like the back of my hand. I ran into quite a few people along the way—some out exercising, some buying groceries—but no one paid attention to me. My nerves were stretched tight; I pretended to be calm, humming a tune as I pedaled fast, terrified of running into the police. Luckily, the police are all night owls, so the whole way was uneventful, and I made it to the underpass in the suburbs. Seeing no one around, I wanted to move the corpse from the back of the cart.

But when I turned around, my mind went blank with a buzz, and I froze.

There was nothing in the cart—the corpse was gone. Only the blanket I’d wrapped it in was still hanging off the back.

Damn! I thought, could it have fallen out on the way? Impossible! I hadn’t ridden over any bumpy spots.

But given the situation, I couldn’t say the old man had come back to life and run off. The only reasonable explanation was that it had fallen out along the way.

My mind was a mess. Well, this is just great. Imagine—a young guy, humming a song and riding a bike, and suddenly a dead body falls out of his cart. Those old ladies would definitely shout: Young man, you dropped something! Then, coming closer and seeing it’s a corpse, they’d probably faint on the spot.

Part One: The River Suppressing Seal

Chapter Six: Laying Low

Some people are so unlucky, they even choke on cold water. I just stood there, not knowing what to do. I was dazed for a good ten minutes, doing nothing, feeling utterly lost. Suddenly, a train passed over the bridge, its whistle blaring, which startled me back to my senses.

I ran to the riverbank, washed my face with river water to clear my head. I thought, if the corpse had fallen out on the road, someone must have seen me. But it might not be so easy to track me down—I was a stranger, riding a tricycle, and people who saw me might have thought I was just a local hauler. Thinking it over, I decided to forget about business for now and just get out of here.

My mind was racing. The stuff I had on me could probably fetch fifty or sixty thousand. I’d send it to Shanghai first, then have someone there help me transfer the money to my account. That would be enough for two or three years. I figured if the corpse really did fall out halfway, as long as I didn’t show up, in two or three years I’d be in the clear. Fifty or sixty thousand would be enough to last me that long.

Thinking about it made me feel hopeless. Just yesterday, I thought fate was finally smiling on me, but it seems I’m just not meant for a good life.

I decided to ride back, but this time I didn’t dare take the same route. I made a huge detour, practically crossing all of Taiyuan, and didn’t get back to the guesthouse near Nangong until it was almost dark.

I tossed the cart at the young master’s door, ran up to my room, shut all the doors and windows, and started packing. I didn’t have much to begin with, so I finished quickly. I slung my bag on my back, planning to head to the station that night and take a train south, find a small village to hide out in. I didn’t even want to shower.

But just as I reached the door, I suddenly kicked something. Looking down, I saw it was that old man’s shabby bag—the one he used to keep antiques in and always clutched in his hands—just lying quietly on the floor. I picked it up and looked inside; the five thousand yuan I’d given him yesterday was still in the bag.

I hesitated. Wouldn’t this mean I’d gotten a huge fortune without spending a penny? According to William Carter, he had a wife and kids at home, and he definitely wasn’t going back. In families like that, if the man dies, it’s truly tragic. My neighbor back home was like that—my grandma often helped them out, and she’d even cry for them.

Although I wasn’t responsible for his death, if I took this five thousand yuan, I’d probably never have peace of mind for the rest of my life. But leaving it here would be foolish.

After thinking it over, I decided to return the money to his family. Since I was running away anyway, I might as well go to the countryside, give them the money, and if possible, pick up some of his other things and give them more money. That way, I’d feel a bit better myself.

Thinking about it, who knows what else they might have. Just this small batch would be enough for me to live happily for years. If I could get a few bigger pieces, I got a little excited.

If there really was something good, even if I couldn’t sell it for much, the base price would be enough for me to live on for a lifetime. Although it was a bit risky to go now, it was a risk worth taking.

But all I knew was that he was from Linhe County—I didn’t know which township specifically.