The Grassroots Troupe

Shen Que was born with a curse. Anyone who got close to him was struck by bad luck. At seven, the old woman next door gave him a bun. The next day, she fell and broke her leg. At twelve, his master taught him to draw talismans. Three days later, he began coughing blood. He coughed for seven days, then died. At fifteen, a girl smiled at him. Half a month later, her whole family moved away and never came back. When he was eighteen, a bolt of lightning struck the broken-down temple he’d lived in for eighteen years. He dug half a stale bun out of the rubble and walked straight out of the village without looking back. A notice was posted by the main road: “The Celestial Court’s Auxiliary Affairs Office is urgently recruiting trainee minor gods. Food and lodging provided.” He tore down the notice and pushed open the door of the City God Temple in Qingshan Town. The contract bore four words: “You bear all risks.” Beside them was a name that had been crossed out. The line was so forceful it had torn through the paper. He signed. What he didn’t know was that the moment the Judge’s Brush wrote his name in the Book of Life and Death, its tip paused for a long time, then drew a circle. The circle was tiny, almost like a casual stroke. But once it was drawn, the corner of that page in the Book of Life and Death curled slightly. As if it had been scorched by fire. This is a story about “temporary workers.” A cursed star whose fate severs all ties, a team of misfit teammates, and a Celestial Court that treats “disposable materials” as “immortals.” His job is simple: stay alive, finish the work, and get a permanent position. What he has to deal with is just as simple: a System that doesn’t treat him like a person, and a bunch of people even less reliable than he is. But he signed anyway. Because the notice said Food and lodging provided.