My name is Shen An, and I open a funeral shop on Huaiyin Street, specializing in the business of dead people.
Grandpa passed down three rules: don't paint pictures of living people, don't dress dead people, and don't bury headless corpses. I've never had a break in twenty years.
Until that rainy night, a woman in a red wedding dress knocked on my store door and handed over a faceless photo.
"I heard that your yin-yang pen can draw souls. Draw a face for me."
I took the photo. I didn't know at the time that behind this photo lay a secret that my grandfather had kept for sixty years, a life of a skinned woman, and something that five time-honored brands on Huaiyin Street jointly sealed underground.
