1.
My parents always taught me that when looking for a job, all you needed was something steady.
But I didn’t want that, so a year after graduating, I went to work at this funeral home. I knew that if I wanted to make money, I had to get in with the rich.
I had a degree from a prestigious university, but I’d only applied for a contract position, so it didn’t take long for the funeral home to call me.
They told me over the phone to come in at five in the afternoon. But once I got there, I had to wait for several hours without eating or drinking before I finally met the funeral home director everyone talked about.
The director was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, with a high nose bridge and traces of the good looks he’d had in his youth.
The only thing was, he had a lump the size of a chicken egg between his neck and chin, making it hard not to stare at him strangely.
After a quick glance, I immediately shifted my eyes to his desk to avoid violating his taboo.
“Do you know why I kept you waiting until now?”
The director’s voice wasn’t exactly frightening, but the atmosphere was enough to make me uncomfortable.
“Were you busy and only just found some free time?”
I knew that at a funeral home, you often had to receive family members and bodies at night, so you couldn’t leave right on time.
The director gave a quiet laugh.
“This is a government job, so plenty of people are scrambling to get in. But there’s one difference: you need to have guts. Otherwise, you’ll quit after a few days and just create extra work for us.”
The director looked at the report I’d just handed in, but instead of stamping it, he shoved it straight into a drawer.
“That’s why there’s a probation period.”
I nodded to show I understood. Finding a job was hard these days; probation was normal.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll be sure to cooperate.”
Seeing how eager I was, the director finally smiled faintly, though the smile didn’t seem meant for me.
“All right. Good that you understand.”
But that answer was meant for me.
“The probation period here isn’t like it is elsewhere. You don’t need three to five months. Three days is enough.”
“Really?”
That would save me a lot of trouble!
The director didn’t answer. He just took an old flashlight and a few batteries out of his desk drawer and set them on the table.
“First, you need to get used to the work environment. Go spend the night next door tonight.”
“Director, you mean the room on the left—the morgue?”
When I arrived that afternoon, I’d seen a body that had just been brought in next door, lying in a refrigerated coffin and waiting for the farewell ceremony and cremation tomorrow.
A few relatives were still keeping vigil beside the body. They were dressed in mourning clothes, red cloth cords tied around their waists, sitting beside it and chatting over tea. The atmosphere was even… rather harmonious.
Spending one night there didn’t seem too difficult, I thought.
But the director shook his head and pointed out the window to the right.
“I mean over there.”
“Over there?”
I followed the direction of his hand. Outside the window was pitch-black, with only a few dim lights marking the way up a mountain road. The farther it went, the hazier it became, as if it led to a road with no way back.
I swallowed.
“Did you bring your phone?” the director suddenly asked.
“I did!” I answered at once.
Right, I still had my phone. I could play Honor of Kings all night with the volume cranked all the way up. What was there to be afraid of?
“Mm. Hand it over.”
What?
“Take this flashlight and spend the night over there. If you get too scared, you can come back, but you won’t pass probation.”
I wrestled with it for a while, then nodded. What could I do? I needed this job.
2.
“Shit’s hard to eat, money’s hard to earn.”
I walked along the winding path, cursing that director under my breath.
The morgue wasn’t good enough for him—he had to send me up to a deserted graveyard!
The mountain road split clearly in two. On the left, bright lights illuminated a paved road stretching uphill, with a sign pointing straight to the three Fulu Shou burial grounds. I walked to the middle of the road. Weeds grew thickly there, and the path sank into darkness like a monster crawling up from hell, mouth gaping wide to swallow me whole. I was standing right on its tongue without even realizing it.
Now, rumors about the deserted graveyard kept surfacing in my mind. A deserted graveyard was exactly what it sounded like: a place where unclaimed bodies were buried. Since no one paid for their funerals, they were buried in a hurry.
The old folks often said, “If no one burns incense or worships them, if they receive no offerings, they’ll become wandering ghosts. And those ghosts are usually vicious.”
Some people also said, “If the ghost of someone who died unjustly starts causing trouble, the only way to soothe the dead person’s resentment is to offer an animal’s head as a sacrifice.”
I shook my head, forcing those outdated superstitions out of my mind. What age was this? Who still believed in that stuff?
Money! Money was what mattered most!
Clutching the old flashlight the director had given me, I gritted my teeth and headed toward the deserted graveyard. Perhaps because no one had been around for so long, faint, strange noises came from all around me, near and far. I kept turning to check whether anything strange was following me from behind or lurking nearby.
The flashlight swept across a few crooked gravestones. There were no words carved on them; they simply stood there to tell everyone that someone had once died and been buried here.
“They’re just gravestones. No—just rocks. What’s there to be afraid of?” I told myself, trying to calm down.
Suddenly, I looked up. In the darkness, a few distant points of light seemed to flicker and sway. As I drew closer, I could make out what lay ahead more clearly.
A few plates of offerings had been set out in front of a gravestone. Fruit lay on plates on either side, with a candle planted beside each one. But in the middle, on a large platter, sat a live pig’s head, its cut still oozing bright red blood. The red candle flames flickered in the light breeze, and for a moment, I thought the enormous pig’s head was smiling. I knew it was only an illusion caused by the light, but I still couldn’t control the pounding of my heart.
Only Was this just a test for me?
I was only a contract worker. Did they really have to go to all this trouble? And they even set out a pig’s head?
I shone my flashlight straight at it, partly to give myself courage and partly to steel myself to catch whoever had set all this up. Sure enough, there was someone there. Half a step away from the offerings was a pile of half-burned spirit money, and a figure sat motionless beside it.
“Now that’s dedication,” I exclaimed. Then I crept up behind him and gently patted his shoulder.
The moment I touched him, I knew something felt wrong beneath my hand. It was like patting a fur coat—soft, and strangely warm. It was the middle of summer. Even if it was cooler up on the mountain, who would wear a fur coat?
Before I could make sense of it, the person in front of me reacted. He stood up and turned to look at me, revealing eyes that shone like blue jade in the night. I was so scared that I dropped my flashlight. Its beam spun away, plunging everything in my field of vision into darkness. Without thinking, I hurried to pick it up and shone it straight at the spot where those blue eyes had appeared. But there was nothing there.
Unwilling to give up, I scraped away the layer of dirt on top and saw a few faint, crooked characters carved into the worn gravestone.
Damn it! He was fast! The director was going to such lengths to scare me, even arranging for someone to be fully made up in costume? And wearing blue contact lenses, too? I give up. No wonder it was always the same few people who got rich following the director. Ordinary people would never put up with a test like this.
But this time was different. I was determined to earn the director’s trust and become one of his right-hand men. I had to pass. So I gritted my teeth, fought down my fear, and sat beneath a fairly clean tree, staying up all night.
3.
“It’s daylight! Get up!”
Someone touched my forehead with an icy hand. I shivered and opened my eyes.
A man in his fifties had woken me.
“You’ve got some nerve, sleeping here. Come on, let’s head down the mountain.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lâm Tiếu. I carve gravestones. Just call me Lâm Công.”
Lâm Tiếu was one of the director’s trusted men. He was ostensibly just a gravestone carver, but I knew perfectly well that when his son got married, he’d even bought himself a black Audi.
“Good to meet you, Lâm Công.”
As we walked down the mountain together, I chatted with Lâm Công.
“Does the director usually screen new employees like this? I was nearly scared to death last night. Those blue eyes…”
I deliberately made last night’s events sound terrifying so everyone would know the test had worked. It was also a way of sucking up to them.
But Lâm Công looked at me suspiciously. “What blue eyes?”
Then what was that thing?
“Don’t dawdle. The director’s waiting for you.”
I answered, “Yeah,” and followed Lâm Công to the funeral home, then went into the director’s office.
The director was holding a wooden comb, dipping it in water, and standing in front of a mirror as he combed the few wisps of hair left on his head.
“Lâm Công, wait outside for a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
The director kept combing his hair. “Tell me, why do you want to be a contract worker?”
I froze for a moment, then hesitated for a long time.
“I want to make money!”
The director’s hand stopped mid-comb.
“Contract workers only make two thousand a month. What kind of money do you expect to make here? Why not go home and open a shop?”
“Director, I really do want to make money. Just test me!”
“Why do you want to make money?”
“Because I want to succeed, and make all the people who don’t believe in me see me differently!”
The director stopped and turned to look at me.
“You’re lying.”
I jumped. “W-what?”
“You graduated from a prestigious university. You’ve been the kind of person others looked up to since you were a child. No one has ever bullied you. Why would you need people to see you differently?”
“Both your parents are teachers. How could they have raised a child as greedy for money as you?”
“Young man, lying to me won’t do you any good. Tell me the truth.”
I fell silent and clenched my fists.
“Everything I said is true. I want to make money!”
“But you haven’t told me the whole truth. Why do you want to make money?”
“I…” I stammered.
“I like a girl. I told her I’d marry her after I graduated, but she left me for a place where she could make more money.”
I looked up, remembering what had happened, my eyes bloodshot.
“That’s why I want to make money! I want her to know she was wrong!”
“I know the director can make money. I’ll do anything! Director, please help me!”
The director took out a tissue and wiped his comb. His expression remained as indifferent as ever.
“Then you’ll have to pass the second test first.”