Antonio Garrido - The Corpse Reader

“No, I’m just hoping for slightly less risky work. I’ve really got to go,” said Cí, stepping onto a barge that was just leaving. He tossed Xu his pelt.

Xu caught it and shouted, “Hold up. What’s your name?”

Cí answered only by saying thanks, then turned and was lost in the fog.

His trip back across the city went slowly. Third weighed heavily on his mind, and he felt sure something bad had happened to her. Back at the hostel, he hurried up the stairs, ignoring his injured leg. There were no lanterns, so he had to feel his way along to the room. Pulling the drape aside, he called for Third. She didn’t answer. It was deathly quiet. Rain had been coming in through the hole in the wall, and the floor was soaking wet.

His hands trembled as he moved aside the bamboo shelter in which he’d left her. There was some kind of unmoving bulk in there—Cí prayed she was just sleeping. He reached his hand out slowly, afraid of touching it…And when his fingers reached the pile of rags and blankets on the floor, he let out a cry.

There was nothing there. Just some soaked pieces of fabric, including the clothes Third had been wearing when Cí had left.

14

Cí ran down the stairs shouting his sister’s name. He burst into the little room where the innkeeper slept, tore away the blanket the man was sleeping under, and grabbed him by the throat.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The girl who came in with me! Answer me, or you’re dead!”

“Shh…she’s in there…”

Cí shoved him back down on his bed and rushed into the room the innkeeper had pointed toward. It was unlit, with pieces of broken furniture everywhere. He stumbled through to another room, where a lantern flickered. It was a mess, too, and though it was lit a dim orange, it was difficult to distinguish anything. Suddenly Cí heard labored breathing coming from a corner of the room. Squinting, he was able to make out the shape of a person. He went over and was met by the eyes of a girl peering at him from a filthy face. But it wasn’t Third; Third lay in the girl’s lap, curled up and trembling violently.

He was about to kneel down next to them when something struck him on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

Once again, that sensation of heaviness and dark.

He could hardly even clear his throat. He was tied up, and a rag that must have been gagging him had fallen down around his neck. His eyes began to adjust; he could see that the girl was still there and Third was still in her lap. The girl was mopping Third’s sweaty brow. Third coughed.

“She’s OK?”

The girl shook her head.

“Can you untie me?” he said.

“My father says you aren’t to be trusted.”

“You’re his daughter? Gods! Can’t you see she needs her medicine?”

The girl glanced nervously at the door. After gently laying Third down on a mat, she went over to Cí and was about to untie him when the door opened. She jumped back—it was her father, and he had a knife.

He knelt down next to Cí. “Right then, you little shit. What’s all this about the girl being your sister?”

Cí assured him Third was his sister, explained her illness and how he’d gone out to get her some medicine, how when he’d come back and she wasn’t in their room, he’d thought the worst—imagined she’d been taken to some brothel.

“Damnation! That hardly explains why you threatened to kill me!”

“I was out of my mind with worry. Please untie me. I really have to give my sister this medicine. It’s in my bag.”

The innkeeper reached into Cí’s bag.

“Careful, that’s all there is.”

The innkeeper sniffed the medicine, recoiling at the bitter smell.

“And what about the money you had in here? Who did you rob?”

“No one. Those are my savings. And I need every last penny for my sister’s medicine.”

The innkeeper spat.

“Fine,” he said to his daughter. “Untie him.”

As soon as Cí was free, he rushed over to Third, mixed up the powdered root with some water, and gave it to her.

“How are you doing, little one?”

That she smiled, though only weakly, made Cí feel a hundred times better.

The innkeeper would give him back only 300 qián of the money he’d taken while Cí had been unconscious; the rest he was keeping as compensation for his daughter Moon’s looking after Third, for the clothes they’d dressed her in when they found her coughing and soaked in sweat.

The amount seemed too much, but Cí didn’t argue; he knew the man had to look out for his own. Soon, a voice in the entry called the innkeeper away, and Cí tried to talk to Moon, but she seemed reluctant. He took Third in his arms and turned to Moon.

“Would you be able to look after her?”

The girl didn’t seem to understand.

“I need someone to be with her. I’ll pay you.”

Moon appeared curious but didn’t answer. She got up and held the door, gesturing for him to go out now. But as he went past her, she whispered, “See you tomorrow.”

Cí smiled in surprise. “See you tomorrow.”

Cí ran his fingers distractedly over the wound on his leg and watched the light of a gloomy dawn breaking through the cracks in the wall of their room. Though Third’s medicine had helped, it hadn’t lasted long, and she’d coughed much of the night. Cí had saved a bit for the morning, but he had to get more. He woke Third and gave her what was left of the medicine; he told her that Moon would be looking after her and that she had to promise to behave.

“I could help her clean her house,” said Third. “It’s very messy.”

Cí smiled, shouldering his bag. When they went downstairs, they found Moon polishing some copper cups.

“You’re going already?” she said.

“I’ve got to deal with some things. In terms of the money…”

“My father deals with money, and he’s outside at the moment.”

“See you later, then…Third’s had her medicine, so hopefully she’ll be OK. She’s a good girl; she’ll help you if you need her to.” He put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Won’t you?”

Third nodded proudly.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” asked Moon.

“Around nightfall, probably. Here,” he added, handing her a few coins. Those are for you—you don’t have to tell your father.”

They bowed to each other, and he left. The innkeeper was just outside the door, dragging a bag of trash. He stopped and looked disdainfully at Cí.

“Leaving, are we?”

“We’re going to stay a bit longer.” He reached in his pocket and, keeping some money aside to put toward more medicine, offered the innkeeper the rest.

“What is this? That room costs more than you look like you’re going to be able to make.”

“Please, I’ll find a way. Give me a couple of days—”

“Right. Have you seen yourself? In your state I doubt you can piss straight!”

Cí took a deep breath. The man had a point, and he had no energy to negotiate a deal. He handed him a few more coins.

“Dearie me. This isn’t enough to get you a tree to sleep under in this city. I’ll give you the room for one night. Tomorrow, you’re out.”