Chapter 8: I think of Zhao Sheng; seeing his letter is like seeing his face

I instinctively wanted to warn her, that broken mailbox had long been abandoned, her letter couldn't be sent out.

But the words reached my lips, and I swallowed them back down.

I have lived in Wufu Town for twelve years, never seen this girl before.

The girl's attire and her various actions in this heavy rain all indicate one thing…… she is not human!

Could the taboo of the broken mailbox be related to her?

While pondering, I looked outside again, but there was no trace of the girl.

A layer of cold sweat instantly appeared on my back.

That night I slept uneasily, the rain continued nonstop, relentless.

Only when the sky was about to brighten did I drift into a dazed sleep.

Bang!

A thud came from before the corridor, I reflexively startled awake, sitting on the bed I dared not breathe.

After a while, my pounding heart gradually calmed, my thoughts collected.

That thud just now…… seemed to come from the side of the broken mailbox before the corridor.

Could it be that something happened to the broken mailbox?

No way?!

I put on my coat, tiptoed out of bed, moved to the small window of the annex room, and cautiously glanced toward the broken mailbox.

That glance felt like falling into an ice cellar.

The broken mailbox was gone.

I don't know whether it was pulled up by someone… or something, the street now only had endless floodwater.

The water had already risen to the eaves of the corridor.

I felt no sleepiness, my heart full of unease, I took out my phone wanting to call someone to talk, but found there was no signal at all.

The Town Mayor had earlier ordered that before the water receded, doors and windows should be kept shut, no going out.

I also dared not go out.

That broken mailbox was like Pandora's box; now that it's destroyed, I don't know how many horrible things will happen next.

I sat dazedly in the annex room, my mind in turmoil, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly, I recalled what Grandma had instructed——if the broken mailbox is destroyed, personally lift the black cloth on the signboard, open Nan Shu Fang, and reopen the pawnshop.

Grandma wouldn't harm me; I must heed her words.

I clenched my fists, took several deep breaths, gritted my teeth and gently pulled open the main door, glancing at the street.

Empty as can be.

I grabbed a bamboo pole and swiftly lifted the black cloth from the signboard.

The black cloth fell; I reached up to catch it, lifted my head, and saw that the sign above the door was actually round, with a large seal‑script character meaning "appropriate" carved into it.

Black background with gold characters, mysterious and noble.

I folded the black cloth, closed the main door, then immediately took the key and opened the small door linking Nan Shu Fang to the Funeral Shop.

As the door was pushed open, dust billowed out, choking me into several sneezes.

The furnishings in Nan Shu Fang are simple: a long counter faces the small street-side door, the counter holds brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, while beneath it are ledger-like volumes, their front pages yellowed.

At the innermost spot against the wall are three locked drawers; I opened them one by one with the key.

The first drawer holds nothing but pawn tickets; I flipped through, most have been used, only the last three remain.

The second drawer contains the pawnshop's operating manual, which records the precautions for running this pawnshop.

The third drawer holds the pawnshop's seal.

Behind the counter stands a curio shelf, laden with many items, dazzlingly varied, everything you could imagine.

Every item on the curio shelf can be found corresponding to a pawn ticket in the first drawer.

Holding the pawn tickets, I turned them page by page, matching each, and discovered that these items had all been pawned in over a hundred years ago.

And they are all items pawned as "live pawns".

What astonishes me further is that many of these pawned items have not yet expired their pawn period.

That means I cannot dispose of these items arbitrarily; perhaps someday someone will come to redeem them.

But… could items pawned over a hundred years ago really have someone coming to redeem them?

I dare not let myself idle, for idleness brings wild thoughts; so I fetched cleaning tools and gave Nan Shu Fang a thorough cleaning inside and out.

After finishing, I sat behind the counter to read that pawnshop operating manual.

This pawnshop is permeated with eeriness; Grandma also urged me to follow the rules, so I must not break the pawnshop's regulations.

After all, my little life is now tightly linked to this pawnshop.

The pawnshop has many operating rules, but the most important are three points.

One, the pawnshop can both pawn and redeem; pawn tickets come in duplicate; once the pawned item leaves hand, no regret is allowed.

Two, dead pawn items belong to the pawnshop; for live pawn items, if not redeemed by deadline, they also belong to the pawnshop, which may dispose of them as it sees fit.

Three, any request from the netherworld must not be refused.

The first two are easy to understand and reasonable, but this third clause leaves me completely bewildered.

What is a "yin pawn"?

"When there is a request, must not refuse"…… what does that mean?

I hurriedly flipped through this manual again, trying to find a detailed explanation.

But this manual is ancient, filled with many archaic characters, hard to recognize.

Moreover, some resemble the characters Grandma taught me to draw talismans with.

I had no choice but to fetch Grandma's rune book and look through it.

Lost in it, time slipped by unnoticed.

Only when the hurried footsteps sounded again from the west did I snap back to my senses, quickly locking the handbook back in the drawer.

As I lowered my head, I saw a sheet of paper fallen under the counter, folded in half.

I had just finished cleaning; this sheet must have just slipped out of the handbook.

I picked it up, turned around the counter, and returned to the small window of the rear building to look outside.

To the west, the girl in a Republican-era student uniform, just like yesterday, ran toward Dang Pu through the downpour.

She still held that envelope in her hand.

My heart thumped boom-boom against my chest in time with her footsteps.

She was getting closer.

Even closer.

Until the girl stopped in front of the broken mailbox.

She still held the envelope, staring blankly at the empty street.

At that moment, I felt my breath also stop, not daring to exhale.

After a while, the girl seemed to recall something and let out a long, mournful howl toward the sky.

That sound was sharp and desperate, filled with intense resentment!

The envelope in her hand had already vanished; her originally neat student uniform was now torn and stained with blood.

Blood kept flowing down her legs.

Under her messy hair, her formerly beautiful face was covered with scratches and slap marks, blood at the corner of her mouth.

As her transformation unfolded, the already dim sky suddenly darkened, and a Yīnfēng surged in from the western riverbank, bringing a foul, damp moisture.

The girl's face gradually turned toward Dang Pu; frightened, I slammed the small window shut, my back against the wall, already drenched in cold sweat.

I didn't know what would happen next; I only wished that girl would leave soon.

Pap—pap—pap—

On the small street-facing door of Nan Shu Fang, a knocking sound suddenly came.

One after another.

Each louder than the last, each more urgent.

My taut nerves snapped at the sound of the knocking.

Immediately after, the girl's hysterical shout came from outside: 'Open the door, open it quickly!'

'My letter! Give back my letter!'

……

Letter?

I instinctively looked at the paper I was holding in my hand, and a bad premonition swept over me.

I trembled as I opened the folded paper, and… it turned out to be a letter!

The letter began: 'I think of Zhao Sheng; seeing the letter is like seeing the person……'