The Yellow River's Secret Files

My father spent his whole life drifting along the Yellow River, pulling more than a thousand corpses from the water. In the end, he disappeared into the river himself. The police station in my hometown called to say his body hook had washed into an eddy. Beside it was a notebook with my name written on the cover.

I went home that very night. In the main hall stood an iron coffin. Carved into its lid in my father’s own hand were the words: Keep it sealed at all costs. Do not open it.

I don’t know what’s inside the coffin. I only know it makes a sound. For ten years, something inside has been knocking.

Later, I read through my father’s notebook. It contained ninety-nine cases. The final nine names had been circled in red, with the same character written beside each one: Dragon. The last name circled was my father’s own.

He had spent twenty years pursuing the truth and finally found a face. He knew that face. But he never spoke of it, not even on his deathbed.

Now I’ve taken up his body hook. One by one, the things beneath the Yellow River are coming to find me. They all say the same thing: “It’s time to pay back the debt your father owed.”

Some debts are written into your bones.