My name is Chen Goucheng - a nickname that makes a living, I was given it by my master.
The person who works in our industry is called Mr. Yin Yang. To put it nicely, he is called Mr. To put it bluntly, he is a craftsman. Traveling all over the country, eating from hundreds of families, doing errands, looking at Feng Shui, exorcising evil spirits, touching ancient tombs, and doing anything for money. Master said that this profession is harmful to one's moral character, so people like us, who have no heirs, no family, and no roots, will die wherever we go, just roll up a straw mat and bury them.
In the ninth year of the Republic of China, Master and four people entered the tomb of King Qin, and only two came out. Before he died, he only said one sentence: "I'm sorry, you guys."
I have thought about this for forty years. From a small town in the north to Shanghai, from the Yellow River ferry to Savage Mountain, from the 26th year of the Republic of China all the way to the reform and opening up, I have seen fox fairies asking for seals, ghosts carrying coffins, cats frightening corpses, human beings offering sacrifices with Nuo faces, and I have also seen people more ruthless than ghosts. Nine pieces of soul-fixing jade, half of "Yin Yang Miscellaneous Notes", and half a century of grievances and grievances in the world were all buried in that tomb.
Someone asked me if there are ghosts in the world. I said there is - not in the grave, but in people's hearts.
——This is my story. A traveler has a lifetime of experience.
