Three Years in Northern Myanmar: I Crawled from a Dog Cage to the Top of the Compound

When other people inherit an estate, they get a mansion, sports cars, and savings.

When I inherit one, I get a funeral shop on the verge of closing and a forbidden handbook filled with the words “May you die horribly.”

I was going to sell off the shop.

But the neighbors on this folk-custom street told me that if it stayed empty for seven days, something would move in.

Fine, I'll make do with it.

Only after I started working there did I realize:

There isn't a single normal person on this street.

The old man at the coffin shop next door makes coffins without nails.

The paper effigies made by the elderly lady across the street move around on their own.

The owner of the shroud shop smiles while measuring the dead.

And the strangest one might be me: ghosts go out of their way to avoid me, saying my “yang energy reeks.”

Oh, right. Yesterday a vengeful spirit came to cause trouble, and I haggled it into tears.

[Chinese folk horror + unhinged comedy + episodic stories]

Light and stress-relieving, with Chinese-style horror that gets more addictive the more you laugh.