Before Grandpa disappeared, he left me with one sentence: "Shouyi, the dead in the funeral home must never leave with their eyes open."
On my very first day taking over, I encountered a corpse whose eyes refused to close.
As soon as midnight struck, the corpse grabbed my wrist.
I opened Grandpa's old notebook. It said:
"The eye-closing needle goes in three millimeters. One millimeter more, and you die. One less, and he lives."
From that night on, I knew: this world really does have rules.
Those who break them all end up in the freezer behind me.