The food-delivery trade in Wuyin City has three iron rules: don’t open the insulated delivery box, don’t look at a customer’s true form, and never accept an order from haunted house 606, unless you want to become a sacrifice to quantum cultists or read bedtime stories to a Cthulhu spawn.
Lin Xiao, a courier for Yin-Yang Express, carries a barcode scanner in his left hand and cinnabar talismans in his right. His daily deliveries include blood-plasma milk tea and pickled-chili tentacles. Then one day, he sees a potted pothos devouring cultists and an entire apartment building transforming into a living altar. Only then does he realize that the river-snail rice noodles he delivered contain the final offering needed to summon an ancient god.
“Biped, there’s a Star Color hatching in your delivery box!” The nine-tailed cat demon Momo swats away a tentacle, while the ghost fire at the tip of her tail burns through the homeowners’ group chat’s wellness advice. From a chairman with a northeastern accent who’s a kimchi-wielding warrior to a zombie coworker who livestreams exorcisms, the entire demon realm is frantically fighting for five-yuan coupons and racing to stop the Old Ones from descending.
When the electronic navigation starts reciting The Book of the Dead, and cans of surströmming become sealing artifacts, this darkly comic adventure, riding on Meituan couriers’ electric scooters and weaving through the cracks of quantum entanglement, is turning the delivery notes of the entire world into an ancient curse...
