Three months after graduating from university, I still hadn't found a job.
Grandpa had been in the hospital for two months. Today, the doctor gave me an ultimatum: if I couldn't pay the surgery fees, I'd have to take him home.
"Take him home" was just a euphemism for "prepare for burial." For someone in their late eighties or early nineties, removing the ventilator was effectively a death sentence.
People say money can make even the devil work for you, but for someone like me, who only had thirteen yuan and fifty cents left, all I could afford was a one-yuan bus ride, aimlessly circling the city.
From the first station to the last, the bus driver's gaze grew increasingly disdainful. But what could I do? The world leaves no room for fresh graduates. Every job required experience, which I didn't have.
I looked at job postings throughout the journey but found nothing promising. Reluctantly, I got off at the terminal and planned to take the next bus back.
The terminal was in the city's outskirts, surrounded by overgrown weeds and numerous tombs. I wasn't particularly afraid of the place. Glancing around, I suddenly noticed a small job advertisement stuck to an electric pole. It was written in bold red letters: *Funeral Home Hiring. Monthly Salary: 9,000 Yuan. Probation Period (Half Month): 5,000 Yuan. Room and Board Provided.*
9,000 yuan!
I was instantly tempted and turned toward the nearby funeral home.
An old man was sitting at the entrance, his lifeless eyes scanning me briefly. After I explained my intent, he handed me a registration form. His voice was rough, like phlegm stuck in his throat.
"Name?"
"Liu Cunxi."
"Age?"
"Twenty-three."
The old man gave me another look. Even during the day, the cold wind at the funeral home was eerie.
"This job involves logging entries in the mortuary during the day. At night, you'll mostly transport bodies between the crematorium and the mortuary. Once finished, you'll bring back the urns."
I nodded. It sounded simple enough.
"So young…" the old man muttered, pausing mid-sentence before coughing violently. He waved me inside without finishing.
Working at the funeral home indeed came with good benefits. For the next few days, there wasn't much to do. Even at the crematorium, where workers wore masks, there was time to chat during breaks. Nights weren't as scary as I had imagined.
That night, as usual, I pushed a cart toward the crematorium. The body on it belonged to a young man. Perhaps due to makeup, his face appeared unusually refined.
As I walked, a flash of red light suddenly caught my eye. Startled, I looked around but saw nothing unusual. When I turned back, I noticed something peculiar—a jade pendant had inexplicably appeared on the man's chest. It lay there quietly, glowing softly under the moonlight.
What the…? A chill ran down my spine.
The pendant seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Before I could stop myself, my hand reached out and picked it up.
This thing could be worth a lot…
With this money, I could pay for Grandpa's medical expenses and perhaps even switch jobs after a while. Besides, the pendant probably belonged to the deceased. If their family had sent it along, they likely didn't want it back.
After a moment of hesitation, I tucked the pendant into my inner pocket and decided to sell it the next day.
The following morning, I requested leave from the old man at the entrance. He didn't ask why, but his gaze sent chills down my spine. Ignoring him, I hopped on a bus, silently praying. I wouldn't have taken such a risk if I weren't desperate.
At the antique market, I waited until a bald man with a wealthy demeanor approached. Smiling, he studied the pendant closely.
"Young man, this is quite a piece."
I nodded and handed it to him. The moment he touched it, a chill surged through me. The fish engraved on the pendant seemed to come alive, its veins glowing red like flowing blood. Its eyes shimmered, forming half of a yin-yang symbol.
Startled, I almost dropped the pendant. My palms were sweaty, and the icy pendant felt impossibly slippery.
The man didn't seem to notice my reaction. He smiled, his eyes glinting. When I looked again, the pendant appeared normal—no blood, no glow.
"How much are you asking for it?" he asked, examining it carefully.
I didn't know much about jade, but judging by his enthusiasm, I blurted, "Fifty thousand yuan."
"Deal!"
His quick agreement caught me off guard. I instantly regretted quoting such a low price.
The man promptly paid and asked me to thread a string through the pendant. I removed the cord I was wearing and used it to secure the pendant for him.
As he put on the pendant, he smiled again, his fleshy face rippling.
Then, without warning, the pendant gleamed like a blade. In a flash of red light, it sliced through his neck. His head tumbled to the ground, rolling twice before stopping, his severed lips still curved into a smile.
Terrified, I clenched my fists and looked again. The man was walking away as if nothing had happened.
My heart raced as I quickly returned to the funeral home.
That night, I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man's gruesome death. In my dreams, the fish on the pendant swam in circles, surrounded by blood.
When I woke up drenched in sweat, I instinctively touched my chest. Beneath my clothes, I felt something hard. Pulling it out, I saw the jade pendant—the same one I had sold—now hanging safely around my neck.