The day I got an offer for the convenience store night shift, my landlord was throwing my belongings out onto the street.
The job posting said, “Meals and lodging included, monthly salary of 8,000, only requirement: nerves of steel.” Later, I learned that meant being brave enough to find a human head in the discount section for a headless ghost, sign for a “doppelganger doll” ordered online by a water ghost, and even help an old woman in a shroud return expired Granny Meng's soup.
The store shelves conceal secrets of the worlds of Yin and Yang:
■ Blood-red cans stocked at three in the morning, their labels printed with the birth and death dates of the deceased;
■ Scratching sounds that always seep from the bottom of the freezer. They say the previous clerk didn't survive the probation period;
■ Worst of all, the blank paper effigies left on consignment by a paper craftsman. One night, my hand slipped as I painted on their eyes...
The effigy actually flashed a peace sign at the security camera.
When I was forced to burn a “ghost-world Hummer” for the Black and White Impermanence to cover their tip, craftsman Lu Sanzhi kicked down the door and warned me, “You think the merit ledger is a performance review? Keep burning paper cars, and when inflation sends the underworld crashing, it'll be your fault!”
But the real crisis is the bronze coffin that appeared out of nowhere.
The rules posted on the counter begin to bleed:
⚠️ Rule One: If the customer is human, call the police.
⚠️ Rule Seven: Don't help a woman in a wedding dress light a candle.
⚠️ Final Rule: This store will close permanently in seven days.
