The elderly lady had been lying on Ximen Lian's makeup table just a few hours ago, her face still bearing the makeup that Ximen had personally applied. When Ximen was helped back up, the old lady had already vanished without a trace. Remembering how her brows had furrowed tightly during the midnight makeup session, a cold sweat broke out all over Ximen's body. He shook off his colleague's support and, taking advantage of the crowd at the viewing hall, searched among them several times but could not find any trace of the old lady.
With many people still paying their respects, Ximen gritted his teeth and walked to the coffin. Summoning his courage, he glanced inside and saw the old lady lying peacefully, her cheeks plump and full, giving her a well-nourished appearance.
Ximen doubted himself — was he seeing things again?
As the farewell ceremony drew to a close, Ximen watched Director Xia personally push the cart carrying the deceased's body toward the crematorium. Though normally Ximen maintained a poker face when doing makeup for the dead, since starting at the funeral home, he had never actually entered the cremation chamber to see how bodies were turned to ashes.
Now, Ximen found himself curious. After witnessing the two strange events earlier that night, he wasn't sure whether he was imagining things or really seeing "something." To confirm, he nervously followed Director Xia into the crematorium.
Ximen watched as the crematorium worker pushed the old lady's body into the furnace. As the cremation process began, he could clearly see through the furnace's viewing window the flames starting to burn her body. Seeing this for the first time made Ximen's heart pound wildly. The boss tried to steady his nerves: surely once the corpse was burned to ash, it wouldn't come out to cause trouble again.
Just as Ximen was about to leave the crematorium, the furnace suddenly crackled loudly. Reflexively, he looked through the viewing window and saw the old lady — who had been burning moments before — suddenly sit upright. Then, jets of fire erupted from the furnace's burners, instantly engulfing the sitting figure in flames, turning her into a blazing fireperson.
Ximen's nerves snapped under the pressure of the scene. His vision went black and he collapsed beside the furnace.
Luckily, the crematorium worker discovered him while preparing the next cremation. Not knowing what had happened, the worker called Director Xia, who was guarding the crematorium door. Together they carried Ximen out.
Onlookers whispered among themselves and some pulled out phones to take pictures of the three men. The next day, the local newspaper ran the photo with the headline: "Shocking Scene: Deceased Suddenly Revived When Being Placed into Crematorium Furnace."
When Ximen regained consciousness, he found himself alone in the funeral home's lounge. His mind was blank. After a long while, he finally remembered what had just happened. Alone in the empty lounge, fear gripped him even more; he dared not stay there.
He left the lounge, hoping to find a place crowded with people to borrow some yang energy for protection. But just after stepping out, he saw countless humanoid black shadows drifting within his line of sight. Their features were indistinct, only vague outlines, wandering aimlessly around the funeral home.
Ximen's scalp tingled fiercely. Terrified beyond reason, he ran wildly out of the funeral home. He hailed a taxi, fished a hundred-yuan bill from the envelope containing his "hardship fee" from the magnate, and tossed it to the driver, shouting, "Take me to [redacted address]! Hurry! I'm in a rush!"
Once outside the funeral home's vicinity, the black shadows abruptly disappeared. But even if beaten to death, Ximen would never return to that funeral home again. This job was over — he planned to call Director Xia and resign as soon as he got home.
However, returning home marked the true start of Ximen's nightmare.
Seeing the bright sun high in the sky, Ximen's pounding heart finally calmed somewhat. He then thought to call Director Xia. Before he could say he wanted to quit, Xia unleashed a torrent of curses on the phone. Ximen felt deeply wronged — if Xia hadn't hurriedly called him back to the funeral home in the middle of the night, none of these strange events would have happened.
The two argued briefly over the phone. They quickly clashed — one insisting on resignation, the other threatening dismissal. In short, Ximen Lian was done working at the funeral home.
Until sunset, those black shadows did not appear again. But when night fell, Ximen Lian's eyes saw a completely different scene. There was nothing unusual inside his home, yet that night happened to be the one-year memorial anniversary of the old neighbor downstairs. The neighbor's family and relatives—more than a dozen people—were gathered at the intersection just below Ximen's window, burning paper offerings to honor the deceased.
The smell of burning paper incense made Ximen feel restless and annoyed. As he prepared to close the window, he suddenly noticed countless black shadows among the people burning paper downstairs. These shadows were exactly the same as those he had seen earlier that morning at the funeral home. His heart, which had just settled, immediately jumped to his throat. Flustered, he hastily shut the window.
He slammed the window a little too hard with a loud "clang," causing the people below to look up toward his house.
Not only the people were disturbed—those black shadows stirred as well. Shortly after Ximen closed the window, he heard the entire window frame tremble slightly at first. The shaking was small but quickly intensified, and soon the whole house began to shake violently, like an earthquake.
As the house shook, black shadows began to press against the windowpane. These figures were shrouded in mist, their faces indistinct, but the sight alone sent chills down Ximen's spine. Gradually, more and more shadows gathered, until the entire front glass was densely covered with them.
Ximen was frozen with fear, his mind a complete blank, staring helplessly at the window full of shadowy figures. At that moment, one shadow outside the glass slowly became clear. Her facial features appeared — when she opened her mouth and smiled at Ximen, the two rows of molars on each side were missing. It was the same old lady he had seen burned into a blazing fireball that morning.
And it wasn't over. Ximen's gut churned with regret — if only he had never come back to the funeral home to work the late shift the previous night. But it was too late to regret. Judging by the shadows' behavior, they seemed unable to pass through the glass into the house.
After a while, Ximen gradually regained his composure. Shaking, he found his phone and called Director Xia. Xia Ren had spent half his life in the funeral business and should know how to deal with these kinds of problems.
The call connected but immediately showed the line was busy, indicating Xia Ren was still on another call and not answering Ximen's phone. With no other option, Ximen kept dialing one number after another.
After dozens of attempts, a voice finally answered.
Director Xia started with a fierce scolding, and Ximen dared not interrupt. After Xia finished venting, Ximen, voice trembling, explained the situation in detail. Possibly recalling Ximen's strange collapse in the cremation chamber that morning, and sensing Ximen was not making things up, Xia remained silent for a moment before finally giving Ximen an emergency solution.
Following Xia's instructions, Ximen sprinkled salt at every entrance and exit: the door, windowsills, ventilation pipes including the kitchen exhaust. He emptied all the salt he had at home. Still uneasy, he gathered soy sauce, pickled vegetables, and seasoning packets from instant noodles — anything salty — and spread them all at the doors and windows.
After scattering the salt, the black shadows outside began to disappear gradually. Five minutes later, the shadows on the window vanished completely. Ximen finally exhaled in relief but did not let his guard down. He turned on every light in the house, then streamed a recording of the Great Compassion Mantra continuously online. Finally, he squatted in a corner, clutching a kitchen knife in one hand and a clove of garlic in the other, eyes nervously scanning the air.
Hours passed like this until sunrise.
At dawn, Ximen felt much better. He cautiously opened the front door and dashed to a sunlit spot downstairs. Having learned the protective power of salt, Ximen bought up all the salt from several nearby convenience stores, causing the elderly neighbors to gossip endlessly, wondering why salt was suddenly being hoarded again — "Is there another tsunami in Japan?"
Carrying a large bag of salt, Ximen took a taxi back to the funeral home. Due to his strange behavior the day before, many inside the funeral home had their own rumors and stories.
As Ximen stepped into the funeral home parking lot, two parking attendants stopped in their tracks when they saw him. Lowering their voices, they whispered to each other.
Though Ximen could not hear their words, their lip movements were clear enough for him to piece together what they were saying: "Isn't that Ximen? Looks like he's back to quit. Heard he and Xia Ren fought over Xia's girl. Apparently, Ximen got her pregnant, and Xia tricked him into the crematorium. If Ximen hadn't run fast, he'd have been thrown into the furnace and burned alive. And Xia gave him a full day's worth of insults."
One attendant paused when he noticed the salt bag in Ximen's hand, then continued: "He's not here to quit — he came to settle scores. See that bag? Ximen brought a weapon today. Maybe he's planning to go down together. He got the girl pregnant, got beaten up — that's nothing. Now he wants revenge."
The other attendant retorted: "Come on, what pregnancy and mutual destruction? Don't talk nonsense if you don't know. I was working yesterday afternoon when old Zheng from the crematorium told me Ximen was acting weird. Yesterday morning, he sneaked into the furnace room to watch a cremation, got himself so scared he fainted. Then he ran off without telling Xia, which made Xia furious and curse at him. I saw Ximen's pale face myself — looked like a ghost, not a living man."
The second attendant wanted to say more but stopped when he noticed Ximen staring right at them as if hearing every word. Confused, he finally shut up.
Ximen's mind was a mess, tangled with wild thoughts. He had no idea when he'd developed the ability to read lips, but now wasn't the time to ponder that. Before sunset, he had to find Director Xia and put an end to these ghostly troubles once and for all.
Fortunately, Xia Ren had not gone far. Ximen found him in his office, where a thin, middle-aged man dressed in black sat at Xia's desk. Xia treated the thin old man with near reverence. When Ximen arrived, Xia waved him over and said, "Wait here a moment. We'll talk after I entertain this guest."
As Xia spoke, the man lifted his eyelids and scrutinized Ximen closely. Ignoring Xia, he addressed Ximen directly: "When did you start seeing those things?"
The question made Ximen's heart race wildly. Clutching this lifeline, he recounted everything from yesterday, including how he had just now been able to read lip movements. The man paused in surprise, then scrutinized Ximen again as if doubting some of what he'd heard.