The new clothes had long been completed. Along the original stitch holes, it had been sewn once more. Sewn again? Lao Fu thought of this word and couldn't help but smile bitterly. Even he himself didn't know how to expin it.

  As usual, after finishing the clothes, Lao Fu would return the dead body to its original pce. So now, that woman y alone in the coffin she had arrived in, with only a small candle stump pced in her mouth. As for the needle marks on her eyes, nose, mouth, and ear, Lao Fu pnned to ask the old woman about them when he saw her again to get a clear answer.

  Everything seemed normal for now.

  But at that moment, a “cp” sound came from the wooden hut. Lao Fu picked up a wooden stick, which he usually used to prop the door, and quietly crept toward the hut. He carefully pressed his ear to the door. There was no sound. Lao Fu rubbed his chin, confirming that he had indeed heard something just now, though it wasn't very loud. But in the silence of the night, it was unmistakable.

  He hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open. The incense was still burning, casting its final glow. The ingot under the candlelight emitted an eerie silver shine. Lao Fu carefully scanned the surroundings, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't help but ugh at how overly tense he'd become.

  He put the stick down, walked to the table, and took a new incense stick to light it from the nearly burned-out one. He blew out the old one and casually tossed it on the ground. At that moment, he noticed something small and subtle.

  Lao Fu picked up the small item. It was a red button with gold trim. Perhaps he could use it again next time, saving a bit of silver. He didn’t look at it too much and casually tossed the button into the basket next to the stool. It was almost dawn. After a long night, Lao Fu felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He stretched and thought to himself that it was time for a quick nap. The old woman was coming tomorrow to pick up her order. With that in mind, he adjusted his slightly loose trousers and headed toward the inner courtyard.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and the one he picked up from the floor of the cabin—eight in total. All of them were the same: red buttons with gold trim. This time, Lao Fu couldn’t say a word. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he stared bnkly at the eight dazzling buttons id out before him.

  There are many types of buttons: square buttons, butterfly buttons, hollow buttons... but these eight were standard twisted silk buttons. The craftsmanship was rough, the red thread was frayed, and the golden silk trim was incomplete and uneven. This kind of workmanship, this level of skill, could not possibly have come from Lao Fu's hands.

  Except for the first button, which he found in the cabin, the rest were either found in the yard or inside the house. In total, Lao Fu searched through the entire tailor shop, the cabin, the yard, and the room where he slept and found these eight buttons. For some reason, Lao Fu had an eerie feeling, as if he had seen these buttons somewhere before.

  Lao Fu finally moved his stiff body. His legs, now old and somewhat unreliable, had become numb, causing a dull ache. He reached down and pounded them, trying to shake off the discomfort. The bck ledger slipped out from the seam of his clothes, falling perfectly onto the eight buttons. Lao Fu's hand froze in midair. Could it be connected to this? That was his first thought.

  In a fit of anger, he reached out and tossed the bck ledger into the most inconspicuous corner of the room, a pce where the candlelight couldn't reach. As he did, he felt a slight sense of relief, as though his mood had improved just a little.

  A rooster, unable to resist the stillness of dawn, let out the first crow of the day. Lao Fu involuntarily shuddered, and a chill before dawn swept over him. He had no choice but to pull his sheepskin coat tighter around himself.

  "Is anyone there?" A voice suddenly called from outside the shop. Lao Fu recognized it as the old woman′s voice, still coughing, and it seemed her time was running out.

  "Coming!" Lao Fu quickly grabbed the eight buttons and stuffed them into his sleeve. He rolled off the bed and nded on the floor with a soft thud.

  She was still wearing that nearly floor-length bck coat, leaning against the corner of the table, and it seemed that her illness had indeed taken a toll on her.

  “It's all finished.” Lao Fu, with his eyes half-closed and showing no energy, zily gnced at the coffin that had been moved out.

  The old woman walked up to the coffin and peered inside.

  Lao Fu yawned again, stretching his hand to rub his slightly sore eyes, hoping to shake off his fatigue.

  But the old woman′s scream immediately snapped him awake. He almost leapt forward to the coffin, but when Lao Fu looked inside, he couldn't even scream. He now understood why the eight gold-edged red buttons had looked so familiar.

  Xue Qiuzhi's pickled vegetable shop had closed, and there was no longer her shouting and cursing echoing through the streets of the capital. The street suddenly became very quiet, and everyone found it hard to adjust. But the hardest to adjust to was the fact that her eyes, nose, mouth, and ear were all sewn shut with red silk threads.