Clearwater River

About this story

A few days ago, on the Zhongyuan Festival, my dad told me to go to the crossroads and burn joss paper. A man came up and asked me for a light for his cigarette. I said I didn't have a lighter either. He smiled, picked up a half-burning paper banknote, and held it close to the cigarette in his mouth. The wind shifted, and the flame licked his neck. He endured the fire and lit the cigarette. When I looked at his neck again, it was scorched and festering. 'Thanks, my name is Trương Tiểu Niên. I died three days ago. How long have you been dead?'