Shen Mo, a senior social worker in the 21st century, suddenly died and became a run-down candle shop owner in Lin'an Prefecture of the Southern Song Dynasty with a debt of twenty thousand dollars.
The family is surrounded by walls, creditors block the door, and they can't even drink hot tea.
If it were anyone else, he would either wipe his neck and hang himself, or sell himself to pay off his debts.
Shen Mo's choice was to turn over wrapped in a ragged quilt and continue sleeping.
"Why are you so anxious? Even if the sky falls, you have to wait until I wake up."
The creditor, Mrs. Su, came to the house aggressively to demand a debt, but she was silenced by him with a plate of homemade "drawn silk dumplings". She accidentally agreed to his proposal that sounded like a crazy idea: to pay off twenty guan in half a month, and to triple the daily income of her tea house.
A fried dumpling with caramel sugar lit up the night in the south of the city.
People lined up from the street to the end of the alley. Even the president of the Lin'an Chamber of Commerce was alerted and personally held a Hongmen Banquet to test the truth. A distressed craftsman from the former Ordnance Institute came to seek refuge after smelling the smell. Carrying a bag of jingling gears and iron parts, his first words upon meeting him were: "Just take care of the food."
Shen Mo gnawed on the cold dumplings and looked at the more and more people gathering in the dilapidated yard and the increasingly outrageous ideas. He sighed: "I just want to lie down, but why do more things happen the more I lie down?"
From a frying pan to a row of night stalls, from an alley to half of Lin'an City, from sugar dumplings to gear machinery, from street shouting to the undercurrent of the court - this young man who shouted "no rolling" made more and more noises in his hands.
