I Just Became a Yin Walker, and the 749 Bureau Recruited Me

People say the young shouldn't enter Sichuan and the old shouldn't leave Shu, but who knows how many rules forbidding the living from approaching are hidden in the mountains and mist of Bashu?

In Sichuan and Chongqing, there is an occupation older than Taoist priests, known as the Yin Walkers.

They are “sworn brothers” who live between the worlds of yin and yang. With just a bowl of water and a stick of incense, they can go to the underworld to settle disputes and bring people back.

Lin Mo, a civil engineering graduate, worked himself into gastric bleeding at a construction site, “shoveling concrete” day after day. Burdened by a mortgage he could never pay off, he slunk back to his hometown of Chongqing.

He had planned to inherit the old teahouse his grandfather had left him on Shibati, and spend a peaceful lifetime serving hotpot and collecting mahjong money.

Who knew that on his very first day back, he'd find a black old cat on the verge of death in the fog?

At midnight, someone knocked on the teahouse door. The visitor wasn't alive, but a drowned ghost in a soaked old shirt, holding out a few ghost coins and asking for “head-cutting tea.”

Other people are scared witless by ghosts, but Lin Mo discovers that his body, inherited from the old Lin family bloodline, has such strong yang energy that he's like a furnace, impervious to evil spirits.

Gradually, the teahouse sells tea by day and becomes a refuge for wandering ghosts at night.

Just as Lin Mo finally scrapes together enough for his mortgage by helping ghosts settle their troubles, several officials in old jackets walk into the teahouse:

“Xiao Lin, how about it? Health insurance, a housing fund, weekends off, and a permanent government post. Interested?”