I Keep the Books in the Cultivation World

The year Chen Mo turned sixteen, he saw words floating over people for the first time. Above the butcher’s head, they read: “Three strings owed for inferior pork; one severed finger.” Above a widow’s: “Her late husband’s debt is paid in full. She may enter the cycle of reincarnation.” And over his own father, drunk out of his mind, hung a golden IOU that covered the entire street, signed by a single eye. Chen Mo reached out and touched it. A ledger overhead began clattering wildly. A voice said, “The interest has gone up.” His father replied, “I’ll pay.” The voice laughed. “With what?” His father fell silent for a long time. “My son.” From that day on, a line of blood-red writing appeared on Chen Mo: “Borrower: Chen Mo. Guarantor: Chen Dashan. Interest: principal and interest, payable in the next life.”