Xu Qing was not very interested in refining ordinary walking corpses, but if he encountered good materials like Chief Zhao, he might show some interest.
After sending off Wang Lingyuan and the corpse transporting constable, Xu Qing closed the shop door tightly, lit a high-quality laurel wax, and the wisps of smoke surrounded the table, dispersing the strange corpse odor in the air with the scent of wax oil.
As he approached the table and was about to reach out to touch it, the two corpses on the table suddenly began to struggle!
The corpses, bound tightly like oversize silkworms, wriggled desperately, trying to escape.
Seeing this, Xu Qing grinned viciously and grabbed the ankles of both corpses, dragging them back.
"You’re already here, no need to rush off!"
Scaring corpses back to life in broad daylight is not something an ordinary person can do. Xu Qing seemed unaware of how terrifying he was, as his grim laugh further intensified the eerie atmosphere around him.
On the table, the two corpses huddled together like modest women stripped by a lecher, trembling.
Xu Qing had no sense of pity.
Who doesn’t carry a bit of corpse scent these days?
Holding down the neck of one of the corpses, he flipped through the Sutra of Salvation.
The familiar verses echoed in Xu Qing’s ears as the past life of the person before him unfolded.
This person was a Painter.
As the saying goes, without a gentleman’s favor, artists cannot thrive. For a Painter, luck and talent were equally important.
The young Painter was talented but impatient, fixated on defying fate, and believed that with a benefactor’s support, his paintings would fetch their deserved value.
So, he leveraged connections to associate with wealthy and influential people, but these individuals were fundamentally unscrupulous, seeking not landscape paintings but rather pictures of lovely women.
And women without clothes, at that.
At first, the Painter was hesitant, considering himself a respectable person who would never stoop to painting such vulgar things!
If he had remained unwavering, perhaps none of the following events would have occurred. But ultimately, the young Painter could not resist the lure of fame and fortune, and began painting erotic scenes for his wealthy patrons.
Initially, it was brothel girls, then the maids of the nobles’ households, which he painted as it was all business arrangements. The latter were purchased maids, and how they were treated, even the authorities wouldn’t interfere.
The Painter thought things would be fine if they continued this way, unaware that these were just appetizers in the circles of the wealthy, with the main course still awaiting.
Forcing innocent widows, coercing timid girls, threatening married women in front of their husbands...
The nobles’ behavior became increasingly outrageous, and the Painter felt increasingly uneasy and unwilling as he painted.
If he hadn’t taken on this work, hadn’t walked this path, wouldn’t these subsequent events have happened? Would those innocent women have been left alone?
It’s said that a thousand-mile dike crumbles from an ant hole. Each painting made the Painter feel like a venomous ant bit him.
It was unclear if it gnawed at his few remaining scraps of conscience or that last bit of resolve.
The proud horses in his galloping horse paintings turned into emaciated horses. The mighty eagles in his eagle striking paintings became bald eagles.
In short, the nobles’ tastes grew increasingly degenerate, and the paintings’ subjects shifted from daughters to young men.
The Painter continued to endure, seeking support from the nobles even while facing such unspeakable discomfort.
Until one day, as the Painter was working, an innocent woman, humiliated by servants, broke free and smashed her head onto the table corner, dying instantly.
The Painter’s face felt sticky and warm. He wiped his face, finding his hands covered in the blood she had splattered on him. Looking down, he saw her blood staining the unfinished erotic painting, resembling a plum blossom in winter, proclaiming her innocence.
The next day, the Painter hanged himself.
But it wasn’t a suicide. The Painter was on his way to report to the authorities, intending to expose the sordid acts of the upper class when tragedy struck.
You, a mere Painter, where did you find such courage?
With a noble’s command, murderous servants, like evil spirits aiding a tiger, beat the Painter severely. When he was nearly dead, they strung him up to make it look like suicide.
The authorities later investigated and reported.
They claimed the Painter, being irritable and stubborn, believed his works would be valued more after his death, hence he hanged himself.
In the funeral shop, Xu Qing sighed faintly, took out the cosmetic tools for the deceased, and made the Painter look presentable.
Afterwards, Xu Qing counted his rewards and gained an inferior-level danqing skill, which could paint landscapes but was too low-grade to paint human hearts.
He also got a high-grade imitation of the Mountain and River Map, useful for storing miscellaneous items.
Casually, Xu Qing fetched the dog-beating stick from under the table. With a thought, the Mountain and River Map shimmered, and a straw-thin miniature stick appeared within it, looking like part of the painting.
He applied his mind once more, and the dog-beating stick reappeared in his hand.
The Sumeru Mountain and River Map turned out to be a Dharma Artifact for storage.
This was great! Xu Qing rarely smiled, but even though the Artifact was of an upper grade among human-level items with limited storage space, it was incredibly convenient for him.
In the past, he had to carry a bundle like a traveling fortune teller! Sometimes even being mistaken for a quack doctor with remedies for venereal diseases by passersby.
Now, he could store things like strength pills, cooling powder, truth pills, three-day fooling experience cards... all inside.
Xu Qing was busy moving things into the Sumeru Mountain and River Map gleefully.
Meanwhile, seeing Xu Qing distracted, the other corpse, tightly bound, began to wriggle towards the exit.
When Xu Qing finished packing and looked back.
Well, that big maggot was already halfway to the door!
You, getting free funeral rites, why run?
This isn’t some shady place.
Dragging the escaping corpse back once more, Xu Qing slapped it down, and it immediately quieted.
With the Mountain and River Map in hand, Xu Qing’s mood noticeably improved, no longer worried about the potential rewards from this corpse.
After a series of vivid flashbacks to a living person’s scenes, Xu Qing found himself holding a pair of exquisitely shaped bone flutes.
These were called Crane Bone Flutes.
Folks said Crane Bone Flutes were made from the wing humerus of red-crowned cranes, and only the oldest and strongest male cranes’ bones were used!
Cranes have two wings, and so do Crane Bone Flutes come in pairs.
One left, one right, producing different tones. When played together, the sound is heavenly.
Across time, relationships, parents and children, loving couples, all longing feelings could be conveyed through the sound of the Crane Bone Flute.
The left and right flutes, once part of the same body, shared a deep kinship. If one broke, the other would inexplicably shatter too.
These flutes were rare not just because elder cranes were hard to find, but also because few craftsmen could perfectly drill their holes.
The pair in Xu Qing’s hands seemed divinely crafted, smooth and jade-like.
It’s said that the Crane Bone Flute possesses the most longing sound, and there’s a story behind this flute too.
The story begins with the porter on the table...