Chapter 1

Mom lost money playing mahjong in the underworld. When she checked her pockets, she discovered she had just 9.9 in ghost money left.

She hurried into my dreams, crying for help.

“Wanwan, I’ve only got 9.9 left down here. Burn me a little more, will you? I can barely afford to pay my mahjong debts!”

I jolted awake, rushed out to buy eighty-eight billion in paper gold ingots, and burned them at her grave.

As I watched them burn, I couldn’t help wondering: was inflation in the underworld really that bad? I’d burned her ninety billion on her death anniversary not long ago. How had she spent it all in just a few days?

Once I’d finished, I thought I could finally get a good night’s sleep.

But the moment I closed my eyes, Mom appeared again.

“Why haven’t you burned me any money yet? I can’t pay them! They’re about to drag me off to do hard labor!”

I stared at her. “Mom, I burned you eighty-eight billion in paper gold ingots this afternoon.”

“What?” She looked just as baffled. “I didn’t get it. I’ve still only got 9.9!”

A cold sweat broke out over me.

If Mom hadn’t received that money, who had taken the eighty-eight billion I’d just burned?

**1**

“Wanwan, did you send it to the wrong person?”

Mom wore the dark red jacket she’d loved when she was alive. Her hair was a mess, her sleeves dusty with ash, and she looked both frantic and deeply aggrieved.

“My account still says 9.9. I can’t even buy a bowl of wontons.”

“That’s impossible.”

I’d spent two hours crouching in the cemetery that afternoon, burning joss paper until the smoke made my eyes stream. How could none of it have reached her?

Her voice grew shrill with anxiety.

“I went to the ghost bank to check. The clerk spent ages going through the ledger, then said, ‘Chen Yulan. Balance: 9.9.’”

Her imitation was so good I nearly laughed.

Then she rolled up her sleeve, and I stopped finding it funny. A purple bruise marked her arm.

“Auntie Zhou brought two debt-collector ghosts and cornered me in the back room of the mahjong parlor. If I don’t pay, she’ll have me sent to hard labor.”

My scalp prickled. “How much do you owe her?”

Mom looked away. “Not much.”

“How much?”

“A little over thirty million, with interest.”

I sucked in a breath. “Mom, even allowing for inflation down there, aren’t those stakes a bit high?”

She knew she was in the wrong, but that didn’t stop her arguing.

“They said new ghosts got special introductory games. I thought I’d try a couple of rounds. Who knew they’d raise the interest every round? They’re worse than those online loan sharks.”

The clatter of mahjong tiles drifted into the dream. Mom went white.

“Wanwan, do something. Another day of this, and she’ll make me push a millstone.”

Before I could answer, she was swept away as though a gust had caught her.

I woke with a start. Dawn was only just breaking.

I scrambled out of bed, splashed water on my face, and ran straight to the funeral-supply shop downstairs. The owner had barely opened up. He greeted me as though the god of wealth had walked through his door.

“You’re out early, young lady.”

I gritted my teeth. “Your most expensive joss-paper package.”

His eyes lit up. “The Filial Devotion set? Premium? Or the Supreme package, with priority access to reincarnation?”

“Supreme.” I paused. “And paper gold ingots, Heaven and Earth Bank cheques, bank cards… One of everything you’ve got.”

He looked impressed. “Setting up a whole retirement infrastructure down there, are we?”

I wasn’t in the mood.

By the time I reached the cemetery, it was fully light. I crouched at Mom’s grave and wiped her headstone clean.

She was smiling brightly in the photograph. Any second, I could almost hear her scolding me: “What are you burning so much for?”

My nose stung.

“Mom, you’ll get it this time.”

I unwrapped each bundle and wrote her name and birth details on it.

“For the exclusive receipt of Mrs. Chen Yulan. Other ghosts, keep your hands off.”

One sheet, one muttered instruction.

The flames roared in the basin. Paper ingots crackled, and the wind carried the ash upward.

As I fed the fire, I tried to reassure myself. “Surely it can’t go missing again.”

Afterward, I set out her favorite braised duck wings and tangerines, then pressed my palms together.

“Let me know in a dream when it arrives, Mom.”

That night, I deliberately went to bed early.

I’d barely closed my eyes when a wail rang out.

“Wanwan!”

Mom burst into my dream, her hair even wilder than the night before.

“We’re finished! They say you haven’t sent a single coin today either!”

My heart lurched. She seized my hands with fingers cold as ice.

“My balance is still 9.9!”

My head rang.

Impossible. I’d burned enough that day to meet a small underworld bank’s entire deposit target. How could she still have nothing?

**2**

The next morning, I took my dark circles straight to the best-known joss-paper shop in town.

Its owner, Liu the Half-Immortal, had a goatee and wore a faded Tang-style jacket. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Who are we making arrangements for, young lady?”

“My mother.”

I explained everything. His expression turned grave.

After a lengthy calculation on his fingers, he raised his eyelids. “In cases like your mother’s, the passage usually isn’t properly routed.”

“What does that mean?”

“You burned the money, but it lost its way.” He sighed. “The living and the dead both have their rules. If the route isn’t opened correctly, it’s like sending a parcel to the wrong address.”

I considered that for two seconds. It did sound plausible.

Seeing me waver, Liu immediately produced a price list.

“We offer a personalized burning service. We use the deceased’s Eight Characters—their birth details—to open a dedicated route. Guaranteed delivery.”

Standard dedicated route: 888 yuan.

Express route: 1,888.

Deluxe Guaranteed Delivery: 3,888.

Supreme Grand Offering: 6,888.

I clutched my bank card, serenely suffering heart palpitations.

“If it doesn’t arrive, do I get a refund?”

His face stiffened. “Young lady, how can you put filial devotion and refunds in the same sentence?”

In the end, I gritted my teeth and bought Deluxe Guaranteed Delivery, plus an “anti-interception charm.”

Once I’d paid, I felt my own balance wasn’t far from 9.9 either.

That afternoon, Liu accompanied me to the cemetery. He set up an altar before the grave, laid out a compass, a brass bell, and a peachwood ruler, then circled the grave three times, chanting.

The only line I caught was: “Officers and messengers of the underworld, kindly grant passage. Don’t let this dutiful daughter waste her money.”

I arranged the new joss paper neatly. On every sheet, I’d written Mom’s name, her birth details, and “Direct Dedicated Route.”

Liu struck the ruler once. “Burn it.”

I lit the paper. The moment the flame caught its edge, it flared.

He rang the bell. “It’s arrived.”

“Really?” I asked anxiously.

He thumped his chest. “Definitely. If it hasn’t, I’ll eat my shop sign.”

By the time the last paper burned, dusk was falling. Wind swept through the cemetery, spiraling ash into the air.

I went home, showered, and got into bed early. This time, the dream came quickly.

I was in a dark alley, with torn lanterns hanging from gray brick walls. Mom huddled in a corner. She was even paler than the previous night, and fresh bruises marked her arms.

Her mouth crumpled when she saw me.

“Wanwan, I still haven’t got it.”

My heart sank.

“But I hired an expert this time.”

She looked like a child whose pocket money had been stolen.

“Zhou Guifen says there are plenty of swindlers among the living too.”

I nearly jumped in fury. “She’s an underworld loan shark, and she thinks she gets to judge professional ethics up here?”

Mom glanced behind her and lowered her voice.

“She’s already dragged me into the back alley. If I delay another day, she’ll make me sign a soul-mortgage contract.”

“A what?”

“My soul, to cover the debt.”

She sounded more frightened with every word.

“She says my soul isn’t worth much, but she can pawn it to an evil ghost as a tonic. Once it eats me, I’ll be gone completely!”

I was furious. “Can she just run a loan-sharking business down there? Aren’t there laws?”

Mom grimaced. “The judge doesn’t bother with private games we choose to play!”

**3**

It was still dark when I woke. I immediately asked a friend to find me a genuinely reliable master.

After hearing the story, my friend was silent for a long time.

“Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”

“If your mother were being cornered by underworld loan sharks, you’d be stressed too.”

That shut him up. He sent me a number.

The voice on the other end was calm. “Bring some of the deceased’s old clothes and her birth details. We’ll set up an altar tonight. If we’re investigating, we need to find out where the money actually went.”

I tightened my grip on the phone. “Then investigate.”

His surname was Qin.

The moment he arrived, Master Qin told me to cover every mirror in the house. Then he set up an altar in the middle of the living room: a bowl of clear water, seven lamps, and three sticks of incense. Mom’s old floral blouse lay neatly folded in the center.

He closed his eyes and chanted for a long time.

All seven flames flickered together, as though someone had blown across them from the same direction. They leaned left, then slowly straightened.

At last, he opened his eyes.

“Someone has diverted your mother’s spirit route.”

“Diverted it?”

“Think of the money you burn as water flowing through a pipe. Someone has added a branch. It should reach Chen Yulan, but they siphon it off along the way.”

My scalp prickled. “Can you find whoever’s doing it? Can Mom get her money back?”

“Yes.”

I’d barely breathed out when he continued.

“But we must burn another batch of ghost money, marked with cinnabar tracking codes. Every note needs a mark keyed exclusively to your mother’s soul-imprint. That should get it to her. If someone diverts it again, we can follow the trail.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“How much?”

He named a figure.

For an instant, I felt that while loan sharks were bleeding Mom dry in the underworld, the funeral industry had identified me as its ideal customer up here.

But I thought of the bruises on her arms and paid.

At dusk the following day, we went to the cemetery.

This time, I’d learned. Before burning anything, I photographed every bundle. Cinnabar codes were tucked into the corners of the notes, like watermarks on yuan banknotes.

Master Qin stood before the grave with a coin sword in his hand, murmuring incantations.

I lit the joss paper. The flames steadily consumed its edges.

At last, I began to relax.

“Surely she’ll get it this time.”