The Shade Bearer: Notes from an Ancient Corpse Carver

His name is Chen San. He has no name, no place of origin, and no relatives. In the barren mountains and rivers where even the dead didn't want to get close, he was doing the meanest job in the world - carrying corpses. Someone has died in a house and no one has taken care of it. No one dares to touch it, so they knock on the door. Regardless of time, cause of death, or reward, he carried the corpses back one by one from under cliffs, in river ditches, mass graves, and plague-ridden villages, washed them, dressed them, put them in thin coffins, and sent them on their last journey. In the past forty years, he has carried at least more than three thousand corpses. People called him a "shady person", said he was unlucky and ominous, and walked around when they saw him. But when something goes wrong at home, he is the first person who thinks of it. He had no complaints and never refused, even if the corpse was so rotten that only the skeleton was left, even if it took dozens of miles of mountain road to carry him. All kinds of dead people quietly narrated their unfinished last words on his back: there were scholars who were wrongfully killed, there were brides who died with hatred, there were old people who fled from starvation, and there were unknown soldiers who died in battle. Chen San regarded them as "travel companions on the last journey" and talked while walking, like saying goodbye to old friends. He lives like a ghost, but his heart is cleaner than many living people. Until one day, he carried someone he shouldn't have carried - an orphan of the county magistrate whose family was wiped out twenty years ago. The corpse suddenly opened its eyes on his back and whispered: "Chen San, you are finally here." A secret about sacrifice, redemption and kindness finally surfaced after he carried three thousand corpses.