On his third day unemployed, Chen Shi received the final package from his missing childhood friend: a blank ebony plaque.
The letter contained just one sentence: This plaque recognizes you, not me.
He touched it, and a character meaning "worker" appeared in his palm. It wouldn't wash or rub off, as if ink had seeped beneath his skin.
That night, the first clapper sounded from the mouth of the alley.
His grandaunt stuffed three instructions into his hands before dawn:
When it gets dark, turn on every light.
If you hear the clapper, count to three and close your eyes.
No matter who calls you, don't answer. Not once.
As it turned out, on the fourth day of unemployment, he started a night shift in the underworld.
Carry lanterns, inspect souls, check names off the list. The clerks' office had an unwritten rule: don't identify people by their faces. Smell them first. Those whose lifespans have run out carry the scent of lamp oil burning to the very end.
Chen Shi had planned to save enough wages and leave.
That was until he saw his grandfather's name on an old list from thirty years ago.
🤭 Very exciting
Quite a novel pursuit