Don't Take Off Your White Gloves
by Ge Wujue
About This Novel
It's 4:30 in the morning in early winter, the agreed time. The sky was dark without moon or stars. My partner and I went to a community called "Jinshui" to pick up someone - a corpse. As usual, I respectfully placed a self-tied white paper flower in the center of the white shroud and bowed to the body. Without clasping your palms or making the sign of ten, you cannot inquire about the deceased's beliefs. This is not our business. The body was carefully lifted onto the stretcher. It's a bit heavy to carry down from the 8th floor. No stops on the way, as a rule. He didn't look sideways, even if he glanced at the residents passing by, he felt sorry for them and seemed to want to come to this house next time. Family members, relatives and friends wearing sackcloth and mourning followed behind, but there was no cry. No one cried, which felt weird.
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