>The funeral shop was so quiet at night, you could hear the dust settling.
>The paper figures on the shelves were ghostly white, their rouge-red cheeks looking as if they might drip blood under the energy-saving bulbs.
>When I heard that scraping sound, I thought it was a mouse.
>Only when the paper girl, her joints stiff, "shuffled" out from behind the paper ingots did I realize my mistake.
>It slapped a rusty bronze pocket watch onto the counter. Its flat voice rang directly in my mind:
>"Recipient: Lin Mo... Time Prisoner identity... activated..."
