Chapter Nineteen: Traces of the Traveling Merchant

Fang Mu had originally intended to exchange a few polite words, ask about the traveling merchant's whereabouts, and then leave. But when he heard the constable's complaint, his curiosity was piqued.

"That wretched fellow actually told me that his wares are only for those who truly need them," the constable said angrily. "He said I had no need for such things and that buying them would only bring trouble upon myself—everything he sells is meant for the dead; only the dead would need them."

"Isn't that just inviting bad luck?" Fang Mu replied, following the thread.

The constable seemed to have found a willing listener and continued quickly, "Exactly! He wouldn't sell to me when I wanted to buy, but when the owner of that braised meat shop didn't want any, he went out of his way to persuade him, insisting on making a sale."

"The braised meat shop? You mean the Zhou family's place?"

"That's right," the constable answered helplessly. "The owner almost lost his temper and overturned the man's stall."

Suddenly, Fang Mu clasped his hands in apology. "I've just remembered—I've left water boiling at home. I should go."

With that, Fang Mu hurried off, leaving the two constables staring after him in surprise, unable to fathom his sudden haste.

"How could someone forget something as important as boiling water?"

"Alas, who can understand the mind of a coroner? They're not like normal folk."

"True enough. Brother Fang is truly remarkable—dealing with corpses every day. If it were me, I'd have lost my lunch long ago..."

The Zhou family's braised meat shop was one of the better-known establishments in Jinglong County. Its savory flavors and the honest reputation of its owner—never cheating customers out of even a scrap—had earned it a loyal clientele. Not only did locals flock there, but people from neighboring villages as well.

When Fang Mu arrived at the shop, he found a crowd bustling at the entrance. The owner, a middle-aged man, was busy tending to his customers. Fang Mu joined the end of the line and glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

To the constables, the traveling merchant's strange words were just rudeness at worst, the sort that might offend someone. But Fang Mu suspected there was more to it. Perhaps the merchant’s words held another meaning. Goods for the dead, sold only to those in need—could it be a sign that the owner’s days were numbered?

He decided not to raise alarm, and simply waited his turn in line.

As the crowd thinned, Fang Mu finally reached the counter.

"What would you like today, sir?" The shopkeeper greeted him warmly.

Fang Mu pointed out a few items and asked for them to be packed. In no time, the treats were wrapped in oil paper and handed over.

"One wen, please," the owner said with a friendly smile.

Fang Mu nodded and handed over a coin. So far, nothing seemed amiss; everything was perfectly normal.

"Thank you—hm?" The owner started to take the coin, but noticed that Fang Mu was gripping it tightly. "Sir... you..."

Fang Mu stared intently at the coin in his hand, his brow furrowed. At the very moment the owner touched the coin, it began to change. A wisp of dark, shadowy vapor seeped over the surface, giving it an eerie appearance.

Yet none of the bystanders seemed to notice anything strange.

What could be the reason? Was it true qi that allowed him to see it? If so, then...

"Sir, I run a humble business..." The owner’s voice interrupted Fang Mu’s thoughts. Looking up, Fang Mu saw the man watching him awkwardly.

Fang Mu took the coin back and handed over a different one. "Use this one instead."

Once the coin was returned, the black vapor vanished.

Though the owner was puzzled, he accepted the new coin. The instant he touched it, the shadow returned.

Fang Mu quickly snatched the coin back, and the darkness disappeared again.

The owner was speechless.

Was this customer here just to toy with him?

"This one," Fang Mu offered.

"Alright..."

"No, this one instead."

"Thank—"

"Or maybe this one."

...After several rounds of this, Fang Mu confirmed his suspicion: only when the coin was handed to the owner did it become tainted with the black vapor. If he took it back, the darkness faded away.

"Sir, please, just take the food as a gift," the owner said, half laughing, half crying. "Let the next customer buy. Please."

A businessman values harmony above all. He was even beginning to suspect his customer was trying to swindle him. Still, he chose to forgo a little profit for peace of mind.

Fang Mu shook his head. "Here, I promise I won’t take it back this time."

The owner, wary but hopeful, accepted the coin at last. Fang Mu did not reach for it again.

Once more, the coin became shrouded in the sinister mist.

Fang Mu moved to a corner, crouching down to observe the other customers. It wasn’t just his coins—all coins handed to the owner became stained with the same black vapor, though no one else seemed to notice.

"I’ll wait and see what happens," Fang Mu resolved, squatting nearby to keep watch.

As the crowd dwindled, the owner grew more exhausted, sweat beading on his brow despite the mild weather. The real cause was the intense gaze he felt upon him from not far away.

He glanced over, only to quickly avert his eyes. His nerves were taut. It’s him, no doubt.

That strange young man had acted so secretive when buying food, and now he was lurking nearby, watching but not eating—he'd even given away his purchase to someone else. What could he want? Robbery? Worse?

The owner shook his head, sold his last portion, and hurried to pack up his stall.

Even after tidying everything away, he could still feel that gaze, now coming from someone eating dinner at a neighboring stand, eyes never leaving him.

Should I report this to the authorities...? The thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it quickly. There were things best left unspoken. Remembering something he'd left at home, he hurried inside and closed the door tightly.

Fang Mu, watching the shop close, stroked his chin. Why the rush? Was there something hidden inside?

Of course, it never occurred to him that he might be the cause—what harm could a coroner possibly do?

By now, night had fallen. Fang Mu found a nearby crossroads and sat down, quietly waiting.

Night deepened at the Zhou residence.

All the shops in Jinglong County had been converted from ordinary homes, so the owner lived behind his storefront. After dinner, he couldn't get that strange young man out of his mind. He hadn’t offended anyone—why was someone watching him? He puzzled over it for some time, but then recalled something.

"Ah, I never did open that thing."

Realizing this, he locked his bedroom door, reached under his bed, and took out an object.

It was none other than a paper figure dressed in burial clothes.

"I’ll just burn it... That’s what it’s for, after all..."