After three years as an embalmer, Chen Du thought there was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had dealt with bodies from old age, drowning, and horrific car crashes, and had never felt the slightest fear. Then, late one night, a strange crash victim was brought into the funeral home’s workshop. There were no external injuries, and the cause of death was unknown. On the corpse’s chest appeared a lifespan ledger that only he could see. The age listed as its deadline was exactly twenty-four: his own.
The writing on the corpse changed by itself. A strange profile appeared in the mirror. A blood pact, sealed away for years, was found in the corpse’s mouth, while a spirit whispered about dividing up his lifespan. In an instant, the body vanished into thin air. From the funeral home’s entrance came the death code: three knocks, then two. A presence outside clearly called out how much time he had left.
The underworld keeps accounts, and every life has a price. A funeral home is not merely a place to bid farewell to the dead; it is where lifespans are settled. Every body resting here carries a lifespan ledger waiting to be paid.
