My name is He Zhihui, and at the age of twenty-four, I reside in the town of Yaklu Riverbank, near the Yuhai City estuary. For four generations, my family, the Old He clan, has been engaged in the grim trade of corpse salvaging along the river.

Back when I was in the ninth grade, my grandfather, in the late stages of stomach cancer, imparted a solemn request to my father on his deathbed. The Old He family had already endured three generations as corpse salvagers, a business stained with negative karma. He warned that indulging in the trade of the deceased would invite karmic retribution, urging that the profession end with my father, sparing me from this grim fate.

Furthermore, my grandfather explained the clash of elemental forces in our family's destiny. Corpse salvaging, aligned with the Yin element and water, contradicted my Yang-aligned fate with fire. The ancient adage "water and fire do not mix" foretold that should I tread the path of a corpse salvager, my demise would be on the river's unforgiving waters. My father, solemnly acknowledging my grandfather's wishes, vowed to end the family tradition of corpse salvaging.

With my father's consent, my grandfather drew his final breath, departing on a journey of his own.

After completing my ninth-grade studies, having failed to secure admission to high school due to my academic struggles, I entertained the idea of attending a vocational school to learn a trade. However, my father adamantly refused to fund my vocational education. In the end, he decided that I would inherit the traditional family occupation—the "Riverside Corpse Salvager."

From a young age, my grandfather warned me vehemently against embracing this profession. Earning money from the dead, he cautioned, would lead to an inauspicious end. History validated his words when my great-grandfather met a tragic demise, stabbed to death by a grieving brother after withholding a corpse over unpaid fees.

In my grandfather's generation, tragedy struck again with the sudden and unexplained death of my healthy grandmother. Bereaved, my grandfather lived a solitary life until succumbing to stomach cancer.

As the torch passed to my father's generation, divorce became the chapter's theme. At the tender age of seven, my mother, deeming my father's profession disgraceful and fearing karmic repercussions, divorced him. She sought solace in the arms of a wealthy man, allegedly birthing a daughter.

Since the divorce, my mother never sought me out. Seventeen years passed, and her image in my mind faded, a blurry memory. Our home held no photographs of her; my father, on the day of their divorce, burned every trace of her.

Our work involved retrieving bodies from the river—wealthy families paid handsomely, while the destitute contributed what they could. Unclaimed bodies were handed over to the local police station, earning us a modest fee.

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Corpse salvaging was a seasonal occupation, thriving in the summer with drownings, suicides, and the occasional flood victim. On a good day, my father and I could salvage up to six bodies, distinguishing genders by the characteristic "male face down, female face up" floating pattern.

When my father proposed that I inherit the family trade, I resisted internally. My grandfather, while alive, earnestly advised me against it, claiming my destiny was unsuitable for such a profession. Should my father push for it after his passing, I was instructed to decline and pursue my own desires. In the end, my concern for my father's safety prevailed, and I reluctantly took up the mantle of a Riverside Corpse Salvager.

Main Story:

At six in the morning, I rose from my bed, dressed, and felt a persistent twitch in my right eyelid—an omen of impending misfortune. With a saying echoing in my mind—"left eye twitches for fortune, right eye twitches for disaster"—I braced myself for a day of caution.

My father and I ventured out and witnessed five rubber boats on the river, each carrying two or three individuals in blue uniforms with "Blue Sky Rescue" emblazoned on their backs. These were members of our city's rescue team, often disdainful of us, the corpse salvagers, deeming our work unethical. In return, my father harbored resentment, believing their presence affected our business.

The Blue Sky Rescue team's responsibilities spanned wilderness, urban, water, natural disaster, and industrial accident rescues. Their disdainful gaze met ours as they appeared on the river—an unmistakable sign of someone in need of rescue.

"Langdong, do you know what the Blue Sky Rescue team is doing here?" Before we could board the boat, Mrs. Wu, a village resident, urgently approached my father with news.

"Langdong" was my father's nickname, earned for his prowess in water. A single plunge, swimming over seventy meters, earned him the moniker "Langli White Strip," abbreviated to "Langdong."

Mrs. Wu, a forty-two-year-old widow, informed us that a young girl had driven a BMW to the upstream bridge around eleven o'clock the previous night. She opened the car door, leaped into the river, and, witnessing the act, a taxi driver stopped and attempted a rescue. Tragically, both went missing.

"Jumped into the river to commit suicide, that girl's family is wealthy. The girl's father offered a reward of five thousand for salvaging the taxi driver's body, and ten thousand for his daughter's. If you help recover both bodies, a reward of fifteen thousand awaits," Mrs. Wu disclosed.

This revelation left my father and me wide-eyed. While I despised the profession of corpse salvaging, the prospect of a hefty reward for salvaging two bodies stirred an unexpected desire.

"Is this for real, or are you pulling my leg?" My father expressed doubt.

"Her parents are on the bridge upstream. If you don't believe me, ask them yourself!" With those words, Mrs. Wu, her gait uneven, hobbled away.

After her departure, my father, visibly excited, pulled me back home. Riding his electric bike, we sped towards the upstream bridge. The bridge, named Nationality Bridge, spanned three hundred meters, witnessing suicide attempts nearly every year. I had witnessed a tragedy where a woman, troubled in her marriage, leaped into the river, clutching her five-year-old son. Though the woman survived, the boy perished. My father salvaged the child's body downstream, demanding two thousand yuan as compensation. The grieving father paid without haggling, leaving with his child's lifeless form.

Endless unconsciousness yielded to Siyu's sudden awakening, jolting from the bed.