On the day Chen Jiu, the undertaker at the funeral home, resigned, he received a paper towel and a bronze lamp that could not be lit from his great-grandfather who had been missing for twenty years.
At twelve o'clock, the wick spontaneously ignited without fire. There was a long queue at the door of the shop—all dead people.
"Shopkeeper Chen, I've been living in a rental house for half a month, and the rent hasn't been refunded yet..."
"Shopkeeper, give me a message to the guy under the bed, don't count me anymore."
I wish I could get the lamp oil for the ghost. The lamp oil will prolong my life and keep me safe. But Chen Jiu soon discovered: the lamp was not burning oil, but the account of a shocking old case twenty years ago.
It's midnight and the shop door is open. Tonight's first order, even if you add money, you may not dare to accept it.
