Mo Yimei, forty-two years old, is a descendant of Meishan and the owner of No. 13 Shop. Addicted to sugar as much as possible, lazy to the bone.
Other Taoist priests rely on magic spells on their mahogany swords to catch ghosts, but he relies on a piece of candy.
Ghost knocking on the door? Ask clearly whether it is a human or a ghost before opening the door.
Is there something in the jar? Just give it a room.
The water ghost is looking for a substitute? Give it a ride, no charge.
Neighbors say he is the town's Dinghai Shenzhen. It's a big deal. As long as he leans back on the recliner and peels off a piece of candy, his heart will fall back into his stomach.
But no one knows that he always keeps an old candy wrapper in his pocket. The pattern on the candy paper is almost worn away. Twenty years ago, there was a woman who stuffed a candy into his pocket, walked into the river, and never came back.
"Yimei, live well."
The red bean paste is still cooking. That person is no longer there. But Bai Suzhen from the drug store next door came over with a bowl every now and then, scolded him for having high blood sugar, and added an extra spoonful of sugar to the bowl after scolding him.
This is a story about sugar, about the town, about the things between humans and ghosts, and about how a person spends his whole life paying back a bowl of sugar water.
Don't be afraid. When the sky falls, Master holds up.
