It's foggy at night, and everything that comes out of the fog carries a debt.
An unfulfilled promise, an unfinished sentence, a house where a dead person has been - they won't leave until the account is settled.
They don't kill. They knock on your door, follow you, and get into your dreams, just waiting for you to answer.
If you do, the bill will fall on you. If you can't make it, take your life.
There is a shop in Liushu Lane, with a gray curtain hanging and two words written on it: Check the accounts.
Everyone in the neighborhood knows that it is useless to burn incense and invite the Master. It is better to invite this master.
Fake, he will tear it up and show it to you in one sentence: "Your account was entered into the wrong book."
Really, he advises you: don't admit it.
He pretended to be an accountant for ten years.
Until that night on Jingtai Street - nine people died in one night, and the bodies were neatly covered, as if someone had tucked them in with a quilt.
There is not a word in the account.
This city really needs to settle its accounts.
