My name is Qing Yan, I am twenty-five years old, a delivery boy, and I am so poor that I can only be optimistic.
When delivering food in the early morning, I was bound to a system that claimed to be "supervised by the prefectural logistics department."
From then on, I delivered takeaways to the human world during the day and received bad reviews, and at night I delivered takeaways to the underworld and slapped people with faces.
The ghost lady in the mass grave is more aggressive than the landlord in urging orders.
The resentful ghost in the abandoned hospital ordered a meal with the following instructions: "Put more chili pepper, and knock on the door gently when you go, so as not to wake up the next door."
It is said that there is also a thousand-year-old ghost who wants me to chat with him for two yuan every time I order food - he will not let me leave until I give him a five-star review.
The system said that if you work hard, you will be promoted to a gold medal delivery person in the underworld as soon as possible. You will have all five insurances and one housing fund, and your distribution will be guaranteed directly after your death.
I thought, this is better than working in the real world.
Until tonight, I took an order.
Pick-up location: My home.
Delivery location: Don't know.
Order person: ... Myself.
