My name is Lin Xia, and I was forced to become the night watcher at a funeral parlor. On the first day of work, the female corpse under surveillance suddenly sat up, with half a bloody pearl earring stuck between her fingernails - but the employment manual clearly stated that "the corpse must be cleaned and disinfected before being put into the closet."
What's even weirder is that I received an anonymous text message on my phone: "Article 7 of the Employee Code: It is forbidden to turn off the lights in the crematorium after midnight - violators will have their life expectancy reduced by ten years per hour." But on the back of the old code I found in the old employee's locker, it was written in red: "Rules are traps, turning off the lights is the only way to survive."
The moment I touched the wrist of the female corpse, an electric current rushed into my brain - she was domestically abused by her husband before her death. On the night of her death, the man sneered in front of the freezer: "You shouldn't have seen that insurance policy." Since then, I have unlocked the ability to "touch the corpse to read the memory", at the cost of a rapid loss of lifespan.
The number in the morgue will beat by itself in the middle of the night, the screams of colleagues are heard in the incinerator, and the mysterious lampkeeper appears with seventeen kerosene lamps, saying that the lamp oil is the soul of the night watchman. Locked in the safe in the curator's office is a file on the "Immortality Project" that uses living people for experiments.
"Do you want to live?" The system prompt sounded in my ears. "Every time you crack a rule, you can exchange for one day of life." But when I turned to the latest page of rules, it clearly read: "Rule Zero - Guardians, do not believe your own eyes."
