Shaving the Yin Head

I was born on a day of torrential rain. After my father died, someone skinned him. My mother was buried beneath the Blackwater River. Grandma said I was born with the fate of a vengeful ghost, here to claim lives.

All my life, the living have shunned me.

But my master said I was the finest successor in this trade, because the dead like me.

I am a folk barber, the last in the trade.

A barber cuts the hair of the living, severs their future, pays respects to the dead, and seeks answers about fortune and misfortune.