According to Ancestral Tradition, When Relocating a Grave, a Person Who Washes Bones Will First Examine the Bones, for Disordered Bones Indicate Impending Misfortune

My name is Chen Shi, I am 24 years old. I was unemployed right after graduation. The day I returned to my village in disgrace, my only relative—my grandfather—passed away.

He was the only bone-washing master in the surrounding area. Before he left, he only left me half a well-worn copy of the "Golden Classic of Bone Washing" and a dead rule nailed to his coffin: any descendant of the Chen family must take over the bone-washing business and wash 99 flawless bones, or they will not live past 30.

I initially thought it was just the old man's dying ramblings, until the village secretary confronted me at my door, and I took on my first grave relocation business.

On the day the coffin was opened, the coffin of Old Lady Wang, who had been buried for ten years, was intact, but the bones inside were black as if they had been soaked in charcoal. The entire skeleton was twisted into a kneeling position, facing the same old well where she had been forced to jump into years ago.

My grandfather's scriptures clearly state: There are three things you should not pick up when washing bones: bones from a violent death, bones from a disordered state, and bones from a wrongful death.

But I've already opened the coffin, touched the bones, and become entangled in the karma of this line of work. Once I'm on this boat, there's no turning back.

To cleanse the bones of those who died unjustly, and to redress the grievances of wronged souls. I have seen blood vines growing from coffins, heard cries hidden in the cracks of bones, and touched things that have guarded graves for decades without leaving.

The villagers all say I'm making money off the dead, which shortens my lifespan.

But they don't know that every time I clean a skeleton, I'm giving an explanation to a wronged soul and also saving myself one more day to live.

The rules of this industry are denser than the weeds on a grave; one wrong step and you're doomed.

As for me, there's no turning back now.