Library

At 2:17 in the morning, Shen indeed received a letter that should not have existed. The envelope was written by my father, who had been dead for seven years, and there was a black seal on the back: In the old collection office, the night shift was added. Signed for receipt. From the moment he picked up the letter, he could no longer refuse to go to work. Outside the door is no longer the familiar corridor, but a strange postal hall that stays in the middle of the night. Countless faceless sorters sit behind the windows, handling undeliverable letters; in the waiting area, the living and the dead wait for their number to be called; every new deliveryman must complete three deliveries before leaving alive. The recipient of Shen Que's first letter was actually his father who had been missing for seven years. The rules tell him: Don't open other people's letters. Do not remind the dead that he is dead. If you see your own body, move around. If someone says they can take you home, don't believe it right away. Delivering the wrong letter could release a dead person who has been waiting for years. If you admit the wrong person, you may turn yourself into a "live item" that can never be returned. And those letters that are most wanted to be delivered often hide the truth that can't be revealed the most. What's even more frightening is that the so-called old receiving place may have never been the place where the dead were held. Some letters are written to dead people. Some letters are from dead people. There are also some letters. From the moment you sign for them, the recipient has become you.