I Drive for Didi at a Funeral Home

My name is Chen Mo. By day, I move corpses at a funeral home. At night, I drive for Didi.

Then one late night, I accepted a ride outside the funeral home.

My passenger was a woman in a red dress. She handed me a ghost note. “Driver, take me to the mass grave.”

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Something was chasing her.

I’d seen that thing’s face in the crematorium earlier today.

I escaped using a taboo method taught to me by a veteran at the funeral home, but then I discovered something had changed. I could see “abnormal entities” invisible to ordinary people and sense the “mental traces” they left behind.

From then on, my Didi rides took a strange turn:

“Driver, the old house in the west of the city. We’re one player short, and you’re the last one we need.”

“Driver, my husband’s been cheating for three years. Take me to catch him in the act... Oh, right. He’s been dead for three years.”

“Driver, take me to the funeral home. I need to pick someone up, myself.”

Then one day, a voice message from three years ago started playing automatically on my phone:

“Bro, I think... I got into a car I shouldn’t have.”

The person who sent it was my younger sister. She’d been missing for three years.

The driver who accepted her ride told me the car’s destination was the funeral home where I work now.

Even stranger, that driver is still taking rides to this day.

And the car he drives is exactly like mine.

I have to find her, even if I have to cross the boundary between the living and the dead, even if I have to face those “passengers” who pay their fares with ghost notes.

Because in this city, I’m the only one who can see them.

And the only one who can bring her home.