Wu Ping'an had driven a hearse for three years at a funeral home. When he opened his eyes, he had become the villain in a novel, the one who was run through the chest by the male lead's sword in Chapter 37.
He wasn't worried. In his line of work, he knew the ins and outs of collecting bodies, applying makeup, and cremating them.
As long as he died on the day the script called for, he could take one wish back with him: to wake his younger sister, who had been lying in the intensive care unit for 331 days.
So he began desperately playing the villain...
He went to smash up a tea stall, kicked an empty table, then helped the old man who had fallen over.
Before smashing the three boats, he counted to a hundred, giving eighteen people time to move all their belongings off them.
He stopped the male lead in the street and cursed him out, shouting, "You bastard, stop carrying everything on your own!"
The whole city went crazy.
"He doesn't have to lift a finger to hit harder than anyone who does."
"That's deep."
Only the woman who, in the original story, should have hated him most replaced the male lead's sword for him on the day of Chapter 37.
"You want to die. But I won't let you."
He didn't die. Instead, he was sent to a place that recognized paper, not people.
The first rule there was: every account had to have an owner, and every owner had to have a name.
From the day he signed his name on behalf of the first stranger, fewer and fewer people recognized him each day.
Thirty-nine. Twenty-eight. Eleven.
Two.
There was one last thing he had to do before everyone forgot him completely.
On the day he finished, someone came to take him home, holding an umbrella.
Little Lucky Treasure of the 1970s: I Make My Whole Family Rich with Bird Speech
In the Name of the People: I'm the Driver, So I Hear Everything in Handong
From the Start, I Became a Neighborhood Inspector, and I Can Spot Every Scale in the City at a Glance
The More I Try to Keep a Low Profile, the More Absurdly My Secret Identity Gets Exposed