I Deliver Food in Yinshi

On the rainy night of the Ghost Festival, delivery boy Chen Yan received an unusual order. Pick-up spot: Laozhou Pig Knuckle Rice. Delivery address: No. 44, Huaiyin Street, which has long since been demolished. Consignee: City God. Remarks: Not spicy, more soup, one pair of chopsticks, three fragrant ones. Lao Zhou stopped him and said that this was a secret order and could not be given away alive. But Chen Yan went anyway. From that night on, he discovered that there was more to the city than just the daytime side. The back entrance of the hospital, the deep alleys of old streets, abandoned theaters, bridges and watersides, rooftops of unfinished buildings... Every night, there are always things that should not exist, waiting in the shadows for a mouthful of rice, a stick of incense, a letter, or a substitute. And Chen Yan also gradually realized that he was not an ordinary person. When he was seven years old, he died once. It was the paper-making grandfather who used a paper-making soul lamp to renew his yang fire. From then on, his life was that of a living person, but half of his soul hung in the underworld. There are three fires in the human body. If the fire is strong, ghosts will not dare to approach. Even if the fire goes out, God cannot save it. Behind the orders from the underworld are the unfinished stories of the dead. Some people don't know they're dead. Someone died and was still waiting for a bowl of hot porridge. Some people owe their lives to living people, and some are debted by dead people. And every order Cheng Huang places is like taking Chen Yan step by step back to the truth that his grandfather concealed back then. What he is delivering is not takeout. It is the obsession between the living and the dead that is not swallowed by the last bite.