Baijudu

I am Shen Du, a mortician. At the age of twenty-seven, he ran a shop called "Du. Funeral" on the old street in the north of Qingchuan City. On the wall was a couplet written by Master - "Ancient tombs with flowers and shadows on poplar trees are the place where life and death are separated." I changed the horizontal line to "Thousands of years of reincarnation, a hundred years of solitude." When I was eighteen years old, my master picked me up from the garbage dump and told me that I was born to do this. The hands are light, the mind is calm, and there is no sadness or joy in the eyes. He was not wrong. A child whose father beats him until his back bleeds and whose mother sits in the living room and turns up the volume on the TV has long since learned not to cry. A child who even has to act in front of his relatives, and whose "home" is only the braised pork and hot towels from his grandma's house in the country, has long known that there is nothing in this world worth fearing to lose. I have lost so many things that even the "loss" itself has become numb. Until that rainy night of the Ghost Festival. She pushed open my door. The white dress was soaked and stuck to her body, rain dripped down from the ends of her hair, and her face was as white as porcelain. She said she wanted to make an appointment for a farewell service—her own. Three months later, there was a car accident at 127 kilometers on the G25 highway at 2:17 pm. She has a rare disease called "intermittent precognition syndrome". Can accurately predict death, but cannot change it. When she said these words, there was even a smile on her lips. That kind of peace does not belong to a twenty-nine-year-old girl, it belongs to a person who has been here too many times, died too many times, and can no longer shed tears. "Shen Du, do you feel that we have met before somewhere?"