The river that runs through our entire Luoshen Township is called the Luoshui River, a tributary of the Yellow River.
It wasn't until I learned what my big brother did for a living—retrieving corpses from the water—that I finally understood why he had said it was easier to work in Sanlitun.
Sanlitun is home to the Twelve Ghost Caverns—a series of twelve openings in the mountain where the Luoshui River flows through.
According to legend, these tunnels were created by Yu the Great during ancient flood control efforts.
In the past, they were simply called the Twelve Eyes of Luoshui, and boats could pass through freely.
Merchants used to sail along this route without issue.
However, everything changed during the war against the Japanese.
A brutal battle took place upstream, leaving countless dead.
In an attempt to dispose of the evidence, the Japanese soldiers dumped the corpses into the river.
But for reasons unknown, the bodies never emerged from the other side of the caverns.
They became trapped within the tunnels, and from that point on, strange occurrences began happening around the area.
Locals claimed to have seen ghostly figures in the caverns, and anyone who entered never came out.
Over time, the place became known as the Twelve Ghost Caverns.
Because Luoshui River is a downstream section of the Yellow River, it often carries the bodies of those who have drowned upstream into our area.
There were already a few families in Sanlitun who worked as professional corpse retrievers, though they also made a living by fishing.
In recent years, thanks to improved safety measures, drownings had become less frequent.
That's why people laughed at my brother—not just because he put up a flag for his work, but because he seemed to be doing it full-time, with no other source of income.
But then, my brother raised a second flag.
This time, the words on it read:
"Retrieval from the Twelve Ghost Caverns."
That single action caused an uproar.
The Twelve Ghost Caverns were an absolute taboo.
For decades, no one had ever made it out alive.
Since the Luoshui River flows downstream, many drowned bodies had naturally been carried into the caverns, but no one had ever dared to go in and retrieve them.
Years ago, a high-ranking official's son drowned while swimming here with his girlfriend.
His body was pulled into the caverns, and no amount of money could persuade the local corpse retrievers to go after him.
The official even hired professional divers, but three of them went in—and none came back. Eventually, he had no choice but to give up.
And yet, here was my brother, claiming he could go inside?
The villagers thought he was either a fool or a braggart.
After he raised the second flag, people started looking at me strangely.
So I went to talk to him—not for any other reason, but because I knew how dangerous those caverns were.
I figured my brother must have been a professional corpse retriever before.
Maybe he was highly skilled in diving and swimming, maybe he was a firm believer in science and didn't fear superstition.
He probably thought his expertise would be enough to navigate the caverns.
I wanted to explain just how terrifying they really were.
But before I could even start, he waved his hand and said:
"I know. If I say I can go in, I can go in."
"But—"
Before I could finish, he cut me off:"It'll be fine."
I didn't say anything else.
First, we weren't close enough for me to argue.
Second, he was the type of person who was hard to communicate with.
When I got home, my mother had already heard the news.
With tears streaming down her face, she begged me:
"Yezi, you have to talk to your brother! Going into those caverns is suicide!"
"I already tried. He won't listen."
"Then I'll go! He doesn't cherish his own life—he must still resent us!" she cried.
I quickly stopped her. I knew that even if she went, it wouldn't make a difference:
"It's late today. Let's go together tomorrow."
But the next morning, when my mother and I arrived at his place, we were already too late.
In front of my brother's two-story house, several cars were parked. A large group of people had gathered outside, but they were eerily quiet.
We squeezed through the crowd just in time to see a middle-aged man with a round belly walking toward my brother.
This was the same high-ranking official whose son had drowned years ago.
The man stepped forward and extended his hand:
"Brother, how should I address you?"
"Sun Zhongmou," my brother said flatly, making no move to shake his hand.
The man hadn't expected to be ignored. Awkwardly, he retracted his hand and forced a smile:
"A fine name. 'A son should be like Sun Zhongmou'—a famous saying. Impressive."
He then got straight to the point:
"You say you can enter the Twelve Ghost Caverns and retrieve bodies?"
"Yes."
"Even those who drowned years ago?" the man asked.
My brother didn't say anything this time—he simply nodded.
A bespectacled man standing beside the official spoke up:
"There are a lot of bones down there. How can you be sure you won't retrieve the wrong one?"
My brother glanced at him and replied, "The flag is here. I am here. Are you doubting me?"
"Watch your tone!" the bespectacled man snapped, glaring at him.
But my brother simply cast him an indifferent glance before looking away.
The bespectacled man's face turned red with anger, but the official stopped him:
"Xiao Wang, step aside."