Old Song said softly, "Zhou Huan, come with me. I want to show you something; perhaps it can help you rediscover your true self!" "Alright, I'll go with you!" To uncover the truth of his origins, Zhou Huan was willing to try anything.

Dongzi spotted Wang Xiaohe walking lightly outside the interrogation room, yet he kept peering nervously inside. Old Song led Zhou Huan out.

Dongzi immediately confronted them, "Brother, that girl let you go?" "En, she found us a home. We won't have to beg today.

We're going back with him." Zhou Huan’s gaze shifted to Old Song. Dongzi stared blankly at Old Song for a moment.

"What does he do? If we don't beg, what can we eat with him?

Uncle, I’m just craving pork head meat, do you have any?" "Yes, come with me!" Old Song ushered the two boys out of the police station, and they ambled toward his residence. All the way there, Dongzi couldn't stop talking, rattling off about one hundred and eight dishes he wanted to eat—enough for a grand banquet.

He only quieted down when Old Song became genuinely angered: "The best thing I have to eat is whip stewed meat. Want some?" After walking for a little over ten minutes, Old Song brought Zhou Huan and Dongzi to a modest storefront.

Dongzi looked up, his eyes widening in shock, and he took two steps back. "Uncle, you brought us here?

This is...?" "This is my home. I make my living from this.

Come in!" Saying that, Old Song opened the door and walked straight in. Dongzi looked at Zhou Huan, hesitant to move.

Zhou Huan closely examined the shop sign: "Song's Burial Goods." On the wall beside the door, the shop's services were listed: "Funeral Planning and Coordination, Deceased Beautification, Fine Burial Garments, Solid Wood Urns, Feng Shui Site Selection, Wreaths, Incense, Paper Offerings, Candles," and so on. Zhou Huan smiled faintly.

"I like this place!" This comment sent a chill down Dongzi's spine. He asked nervously, "Brother, are we really going to live here?" "Yes!" Zhou Huan replied with firm resolution.

Dongzi slapped his dull head and paced back and forth on the ground. Finally, as if a realization dawned on him, he asked, "Oh, I get it.

The noble person Old Glass mentioned—is that him?" Zhou Huan paid no mind to Dongzi and pushed the door open, entering the funeral shop. Right at the entrance was a tall stack of exquisite urns, and on the table below them were scattered paper offerings, portrait frames, and other items related to the deceased.

"Click!" Old Song lit the dim overhead light, making the interior appear even more sinister and heavy with a dense silence. Dongzi shivered as he entered.

"Uncle, you live here? Dealing with dead people all day—aren't you scared?" "Ask your brother if he's scared.

This is our trade, but don't look down on it; it’s a respected profession. If you want to apply, I'll waive the interview for your brother’s sake and let you start helping right away.

We’ll eat first, and then we'll discuss your brother's situation." As he spoke, Old Song grabbed Dongzi by the wrist and pulled him toward the kitchen. Then, addressing Zhou Huan, he said, "Zhou Huan, you sit down first.

After we eat, I’ll take you to bathe. Once you’re cleaned up, I'll show you the Master's teachings and family genealogy." Less than an hour later, they had finished eating, and Old Song had tidied up the two young beggars, dressing them in clean clothes.

After getting a haircut and a bath, Zhou Huan looked incredibly handsome, his large eyes and high nose bridge giving him a distinctly masculine air. Dongzi, however, just squinted his small eyes into slits, looking much the same as before.

When the three returned to the funeral shop, Dongzi had already acclimated to the eerie stillness of the place. The first thing he did upon entering was find a mirror to look at himself.

As he fussed with his new haircut, he grinned, "I actually look quite good all cleaned up! It would be even better with a beautiful woman standing next to me!" Suddenly, Dongzi saw an aged face smiling at him in the mirror—an old woman contorted in pain, her mouth showing only two teeth, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.

"Ah!" Dongzi shrieked and instinctively knocked the mirror down. Old Song walked over to Dongzi.

"Don't mess with the mirrors randomly. There are too many lingering spirits here, each with their own story of death." Old Song addressed the mirror, "Old sister, go now.

Go to where you belong." Then, Old Song led Zhou Huan and Dongzi into a locked room. Inside, Old Song pulled out a tattered, thread-bound booklet from under a desk.

The characters were written in fine brushwork. "Zhou Huan, look here.

This is the genealogy of our lineage of Funeral Masters. Is your name here?" Old Song said, pointing his finger to a spot near the middle of the book where one name was clearly written: "Twenty-fourth Generation Successor, Zhou Huan." Zhou Huan gazed at the genealogy in Old Song's hand, feeling as if he suddenly understood something.

He remained silent for a long moment. Dongzi crowded closer, looked at the genealogy, and scoffed, "Oh, this Zhou Huan is in the middle.

The last name is Song Zixuan—that's you, Uncle, right?" "That is me. I am Song Zixuan." "Then by that logic, you should call me Brother's Great-Grandfather!

Since I'm my brother's younger brother, you should call me Great-Grandfather too, right? Hahahaha!" Dongzi burst into inexplicable, wild laughter.

Zhou Huan said sternly, "Don't talk nonsense. Why are you laughing?" "Beep, beep!" Old Song's phone rang.

The voice on the other end was loud, and Zhou Huan clearly heard a woman—it must have been Wang Xiaohe. "Old Song, the female corpse from this morning is decomposing blood at the funeral home.

Hurry over and take a look; we truly can't handle something like this. Science can't explain it." Old Song hung up the phone, took Zhou Huan and Dongzi out the door, and they hailed a cab straight to the funeral home...

A light drizzle began to fall from the sky. It was about a forty-minute drive from Old Song's funeral shop to the morgue.

Upon reaching the funeral home, they had to ascend a steep slope via a road carved through the mountainside, passing two large willow trees planted on either side before arriving at the body storage facility. As the taxi neared the area of the twin willows, the driver spotted a woman standing under the trees, waving to hail a ride.

She was wearing a bright red overcoat, her hair was disheveled, and she was waving long, green sleeves. The car gradually slowed down.

The driver's face paled, and he stammered, "Master Song, it's so late. Does anyone else take taxis out here...?" "Don't stop.

Drive straight to the morgue. You don't have to leave tonight; stay with us, and I'll cover your fares for the night," Old Song offered the driver a solution.

But the driver didn't heed Old Song's words. He stomped on the accelerator, rushing past the waving figure, stopping the car about a hundred meters further on.

Large beads of sweat broke out on the driver's forehead. He turned back to Old Song, apologizing, "Master Song, I'm sorry, but all of you need to get out now.

I will never take your fare again; this is too terrifying." Seeing that the car had stopped, Old Song became agitated. "Who told you to stop?

Hurry up and go!" The driver paid him no mind. He roughly pushed and pulled the three of them out of the car, then quickly jumped back in, sharply turned the vehicle around, and sped back the way they came.

From a distance, Zhou Huan watched the woman who had been hailing them still standing in the same spot. The taxi sped past, clearing the funeral home gate, and vanished from sight.

Dongzi stared at the woman in red and green sleeves, slowly hiding behind Zhou Huan. "Brother, everyone here seems like a ghost.

Why is she wearing the same clothes as the corpse from this morning?" "She's out for revenge. Ah, that driver won't live long!" Zhou Huan said, shaking his head slightly.

Suddenly, he felt surprised by the words that had just come out of his own mouth. Old Song patted Zhou Huan’s shoulder.

"Zhou Huan, let's go to the morgue. Officer Wang is waiting for us!" Dongzi moved to the front, occasionally looking back at the beckoning woman.

But when he looked again, the woman had disappeared. Fear gripping him now, Dongzi started running, bursting through the morgue doors in one rush.

"Ah?" Dongzi landed squarely on his backside on the floor. Zhou Huan smiled faintly and reached out to pull Dongzi up.

"Get up. You're a grown man, what are you afraid of?" "There are even more dead people in here.

If I had known, I wouldn't have come with you." Dongzi’s eyes were welling up with tears. Zhou Huan frowned and said sternly to Dongzi, "If you act like this, how will you ever follow me?

You might as well go back to begging!" Dongzi was speechless after hearing Zhou Huan’s words and silently followed behind him into the morgue. Wang Xiaohe and several police officers were gathered around a refrigerated drawer.

Hearing Dongzi's cry, they turned toward Old Song. "Uncle Song, please come quickly and look at this body..." Old Song walked directly to the drawer the group was surrounding.

After seeing the condition of the corpse inside, he gasped sharply, "This is bad. The female body has turned into a blood corpse.

This..." Old Song paced back and forth a few times, then stopped abruptly. "Quick!

Open the drawer! Prepare ten large bundles of paper offerings, black dog blood, and a ceramic jar for me—hurry!" Wang Xiaohe immediately organized personnel to gather the equipment.

At this moment, for some unknown reason, Zhou Huan clutched his head, seemingly in unbearable pain, rolling on the ground. Then he bolted out of the morgue and began violently slamming his head against a large tree.

"Brother, what's wrong? Don't do anything rash!" Dongzi rushed toward Zhou Huan.

Wang Xiaohe heard Dongzi's shout, and seeing Zhou Huan's actions, she rushed past Dongzi in a few strides, grabbing Zhou Huan. "Zhou Huan, what are you doing?" But no matter what Wang Xiaohe said, he continued to smash his head violently against the tree.

After only a few minutes, Zhou Huan fell backward onto the ground. A long gash had opened on his forehead, from which blood streamed profusely.

Wang Xiaohe yelled, "You crazy man, putting on another act!" She pulled tissues from her pocket, squatted down, and began wiping the blood from Zhou Huan's forehead. As Zhou Huan lapsed into unconsciousness, scenes that felt familiar began to flash through his mind: he watched soldiers burying him alive; he officiated funerals for the departed; he communicated with restless spirits lingering in the mortal realm...

The moments of his past life played out in his mind, as if he could never truly wake up. Seeing this, Old Song hurried to Zhou Huan's side, extended his thumb, and pressed down hard onto the Renzhong acupoint on Zhou Huan's philtrum.