My name is Chen Mo, and I hang out in the "Yongfu" incense and candle shop on West XX Road in Shanghai. On this street, the air is filled with the smell of tinfoil ashes and incense powder. The shrouds next door, the urns across the street, and the boys and girls in the paper shop have hollow eyes that make my spine shiver just looking at them during the day. Under the shiny surface of the Magic City, there are indescribable "things" crawling under it. They are hidden in the murky mud of the Suzhou River, behind the cold reflection of Lujiazui's glass walls, and even entangled in the forgotten whispers of the 600 Center. My job is to put these "things" that shouldn't be exposed back to where they belong - using copper coins, red thread, compass, and some less visible methods passed down from my ancestors. On a rainy day in Huangmei, the seams of my bones were moldy due to the rain. A crying phone call from Mr. Wang from Pudong blew me up from my wicker chair: "Chen Mo! Help! An evil stele with inverted inscriptions was dug out from the bottom of the river! The shadows of the workers... The shadows are fading!" Well, in the wet magical city, another "wet" trouble has come to our door.
