I have been majoring in funeral for four years, but the school did not teach me how to be a host for ancient evil spirits.
The birthmark with the word "zhen" on my left wrist cannot suppress the candle shadow that has penetrated into my soul. Every day, it uses cold knowledge from "The Story of the Jade Box" to taunt me for not crying at the right time.
The mobile phone screen on my right hand is filled with text messages from the bank calling for mortgage payment, and 37 resumes that have been thrown into the dust.
What was even more unsettling was the light that tripped in the middle of the night in the mortuary of the funeral home, and the cleaning lady E who was wearing a shroud and was not found in the surveillance.
They all said that you have to be tough to do this business, but my horoscope is clearly "hell to hell".
My name is Lin Yanzhou, a fresh graduate who is learning how to coexist with "grievance" and "grievance (referring to the boss/Party A/HR)".
Now, between the peach wood nails in my arms and the anti-fraud APP I just downloaded, I don't know which one will come in handy first...
