I returned to the funeral home and resumed work. For the next few days, I was on edge, diligently lighting the black incense sticks by the window each night. Only when they burned completely did I dare to sleep.
The jade pendant remained dormant, which eased my nerves somewhat. A few days ago, I had sent my first month's paycheck back home, finally managing to cover Grandpa's medical expenses. From now on, I only needed to send enough for his nursing fees each month.
Shortly after my return from the wedding, I heard that the village had been struck by what seemed like a plague—many people had died in a single month. Thankfully, I no longer lived there. On my last visit, I had packed up all my belongings. With Grandpa confined to the city hospital, we had narrowly avoided the disaster.
One morning, I woke early and stepped outside. I saw Old Sun, the funeral home's gatekeeper, chatting with another elderly man of similar age. It was rare to see Old Sun looking so cheerful; the two of them even started drinking together at the entrance.
Old Sun greeted me warmly, his usual somber demeanor replaced with a smile. "This here is Old Zhao, a long-time worker at the funeral home," he introduced, gesturing toward the other man. Then, with a mysterious expression, he pointed at me and said, "This young man, he's a cart-puller."
Old Zhao looked puzzled at first, then his expression shifted to shock, followed by admiration. His sudden change in demeanor left me utterly bewildered.
"Young man, good work. Keep it up; you'll achieve great things. So young…" Anyone could tell his words carried hidden meaning, but I couldn't grasp it. I remembered that when I first started at the funeral home, Old Sun had also commented with regret about my youth.
Young?
What's wrong with being young? Youth is an asset.
I smiled politely, nodded, and made my way toward the records room to log the day's new arrivals. But just as I turned to leave, I overheard Old Zhao muttering under his breath, "What a pity, so young."
I froze. What did he mean by that?
Old Zhao noticed my confusion, took a sip of his drink, and patted my shoulder. "Remember, never stay alone in the mortuary at night."
His words stopped me in my tracks. I turned to look at him, puzzled. His previously cheerful expression had turned grim, sending a shiver down my spine.
Thanking him, I returned to my dormitory. Lying on my bed, I couldn't stop thinking about his warning. Eventually, I drifted into a restless sleep. Half-asleep, I kept hearing the sound of footsteps but dismissed it, thinking it was just someone else walking around.
When I finally woke, it was past eleven. My neck felt stiff, and I rubbed it absentmindedly before rolling over to sleep again, forgetting to light the incense.
Tap-tap… tap-tap…
The sound grew louder. Something felt off. I wanted to wake up but couldn't move. My living quarters were close to the cold storage room, and the sound seemed to be coming from there. It was as if something heavy and wet was being dragged across the floor.
Struggling in vain, I eventually gave up and fell back asleep. The next morning, I was shaken awake by Old Zhao.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, slapping my face gently to rouse me.
His question baffled me. "What do you mean? I should be asking why I'm sleeping outside!"
"Sleeping outside?" His skeptical gaze made me doubt myself. I distinctly remembered going to bed the previous night.
A sinking feeling settled in my chest as I recalled that I hadn't lit the incense before sleeping. My expression darkened.
Old Zhao noticed my unease and said nervously, "Don't tell me you saw something…?"
"Ghosts? No way. I must've been sleepwalking," I replied dismissively. But his skeptical look told me he didn't believe me.
I didn't care. I hurried back to my room, touching the jade pendant around my neck as if to reassure myself.
Walking down the corridor, I overheard two men chatting in the mortuary. I paused to listen.
"I heard the last guy who had that job either went crazy or died. One of them went insane but didn't last long after," one of them said.
"No way," the other replied.
"It's true," the first man insisted. "No one lasts more than three years here. Some don't even make it three months."
A chill ran down my spine. Suddenly, Old Zhao's cryptic warnings made sense. No wonder this job was so well-paid yet seemed so easy.
I hurried back to my dormitory, trembling as I sat on my bed. My gaze fell on the incense sticks the old fortune-teller had given me. I didn't know how to contact him again, which left me feeling helpless.
Just then, the door opened, and the director walked in.
"Ah, Xiao Liu," he began. "Don't listen to those gossipers. It's all nonsense. You just focus on your work here, and I'll even give you a raise."
His words confused me at first, but I quickly realized he was addressing the rumors I had overheard.
I nodded absentmindedly, not fully registering his reassurances. Satisfied, he left my room.
Staring at the incense sticks on my bedside table, I hastily gathered my things and left the funeral home. After greeting the gatekeeper, I hailed a cab and went back to the spot where I'd met the old fortune-teller.
Getting out of the cab, I wasn't sure if I'd find him again. I walked along the path, hoping for a stroke of luck. Just as I was about to give up, I felt a presence behind me. Turning around, I saw him.
I rushed toward him, relief washing over me. "You're here! Thank goodness," I blurted out, unable to hide my excitement.
He sat leisurely by the roadside, smiling as if he'd been expecting me. "I knew you'd come looking, so here I am."
I quickly recounted everything that had happened. His expression grew serious as he listened.
"This is a tricky situation," he said after a long pause. "I need time to think. For now, go back and light the incense."
I nodded, too scared to argue. As I walked back, I clutched the jade pendant tightly. It had grown warm, its red hue deepening as if it were absorbing blood.
The road back to the funeral home was eerie, surrounded by forests and abandoned factories. The chilling atmosphere clung to me as I quickened my pace.
The gatekeeper greeted me as I arrived. But when he looked up, his expression changed slightly before he returned to his work without a word.
Back in my dorm, I sat on my bed, replaying the director's words in my mind. How had he known about the rumors? And how had he entered my locked room?
Sweat beaded on my back as I realized the funeral home held far more secrets than I'd imagined.
Deciding to resign, I glanced at the weather and postponed my plan until the next day. I lit the incense and waited for it to burn out before finally lying down to sleep.