At midnight in the funeral home, the divination coin in Chen Qingya's palm burned a blood-red memory from 1943 into a corpse's pupils.
This time, he clenched the half of the coin embedded in his palm and swallowed one last handful of paper ash on a moonless night. He must either burn away every cursed memory in the present world or become a living sacrificial vessel, ferrying the dead through time.
