Midnight Bookstore

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Didn't you ask me to sleep with you?"

"I can't sleep."

"Oh."

"How long have you lived?"

"It's been two hundred years, but I've spent most of my time in the coffin. Actually, if you count it, I've spent less than twenty years outside.

"What do you think of your boss?"

"Not much, he's really petty."

"I think so too."

"Did he scold you today?"

"I was wrong."

"Oh."

"Actually, I've always been curious. What kind of person is the boss and the person you often talk about?"

"What kind of person?"

"Mm."

"Let me put it this way. If he had swapped places with your boss yesterday, he would have killed the puppet without waiting for me to do anything. He would not have been afraid of exposing anything, and he would not have come up to ask me to mind my own business.

"Oh, I see." Bai Yingying pondered for a while and said, "A person like this won't live long, right?"

Tang s.h.i.+ fell silent.

"Actually, the boss has many shortcomings. Sometimes, he's not manly enough, and he's always been cautious and cautious when doing things. After he did it, he would always be calculative, but overall, it's not that bad. Everyone has a different life, and naturally, everyone has a different personality.

"He likes to be cautious, like a squirrel. He likes to move things into his home, enjoy the feeling of acc.u.mulation, and protect this feeling. This is because he used to come from the orphanage, and he was originally left with nothing."

"You can understand him?"

"I don't really understand, but to be honest, I don't want to become like you. I like to play with my phone, play games, watch movies, and enjoy my current life. I want to make up for the two hundred years that I spent in a coffin. In this aspect, my boss is still able to satisfy me."

"What's the point of not pursuing a peaceful life?"

"Not everyone wants excitement and pa.s.sion. Everyone should have their own way of life, as long as they like it.

Speaking from the bottom of my heart, sometimes I can see that the boss is enduring it as well. I'm also worried that the boss won't be able to hold himself back and will turn into the person you're talking about. "

"Scared?"

"I'm scared."

"He has already died once, so what is there to be afraid of? What is there to be afraid of? He does not suit my taste. He looks gentle and refined, but he is still filled with the selfishness of a young man. He only considers himself. To put it bluntly, he is selfish."

"Is the boss alright?"

"You don't agree?"

"I don't agree. I know my wife must have said that she would get rid of me when she handed me over to the boss after she went to h.e.l.l, but the boss never did that.

"Furthermore, I know that because I'm in the shop, the number of ghosts that come to the shop will decrease, and the boss did not chase me away."

"That's because he treated you like a pillow. He wanted to sleep peacefully at night."

"Isn't it good for a person who is willing to give up his career for the quality of sleep?"

Hearing this,

Tang s.h.i.+ was stunned.

Somehow…

The image of the person who liked to sit at the entrance of the shop and enjoy the sun rose in his mind.

The sunlight shone on him.

Like an old grandpa.

No matter what, the problem with the faceless woman had been solved for the time being. All he needed to do now was wait for the final result from Chengdu.

Of course, this could wait, but moving could not wait. Xu Qinglang found a new address, which was near the South Street in the city center of Tong City. It was considered a commercial center in the hearts of the people in Old Tong City, and there was a lot of traffic.

Zhou Ze had received an invitation yesterday to attend Miss Liu's memorial service. Zhou Ze did not know why he was invited as well. He did not plan to go, but when Xu Qinglang saw the signature, he strongly requested Zhou Ze to go because the shop he was interested in belonged to Miss Liu's family.

It did not seem right to discuss business with his family at someone else's funeral, but Zhou Ze still agreed to it.

He followed the address on the invitation card and realized that he was not going to a funeral home. Instead, he was driving into a rural area. It was a villa built between fields.

At this time, it was the season for the oil and vegetables to bloom. The villa was hidden in the sea of flowers, giving

Not many people came. There were only four to five cars parked outside.

When Zhou Ze got out of the car and walked in, he saw Cui Yilang and a few other members of the horror story enthusiasts' a.s.sociation standing in the courtyard, chatting softly.

No one called for Zhou Ze, and no one came to collect the gifts. There were a few groups of people scattered around, as if they were on an outing.

The house looked no different from the three-story house that was built in a village near Tong City, but when he walked in, he realized that the interior was completely Western European.

From the roof beam to the tea table and teacups, it made one feel like they had walked into the background of a British drama.

The music began at that moment. It was not the common "sad music," but Chopin's "Parting Circle." Although it spoke of separation, the tune was much lighter than the domestic mourning.

Several women in black came down from upstairs. This was the owner's home.

A man who looked like a priest held a Bible and walked to the center.

Everyone gathered to share their sadness.

Zhou Ze poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it.

Domestic burial practices have been reformed in recent generations, or even subverted, and most areas have long since been banned from burial.

A funeral in a village would be held in a shed in front of their own courtyard. Some people in the city would either do it in their own neighborhood or rent a place at the funeral home.

This was the first time Zhou Ze had seen such a Western-style funeral.

Zhou Ze remembered hearing from someone that there were many funeral workshops for families in some western countries. The first floor of their house was also used for normal living and was rented out as a memorial service. At the same time, there were also corpse collectors, corpse artisans, and other services.

Looking at this place now, it seemed to be in the same style, but in China, most people still could not accept it.

When it came to the segment where people would look up to them, everyone would line up and go over one by one. Those who had a better relations.h.i.+p could hold the coffin lid and talk while those who had a weaker relations.h.i.+p walked over to sigh and pretend.

When it was Zhou Ze's turn, Zhou Ze looked into the coffin and realized that Miss Liu was lying neatly inside. She was wearing a black dress, and she looked like she was really asleep.

What surprised Zhou Ze was that Miss Liu had fallen down the stairs in front of him. No matter how you tried to cover it up with words, it could not hide the fact that she had died a horrible death. However, Miss Liu's face looked very delicate, and her recovery rate was very good.

This reminded Zhou Ze of the time when he died, when the undertaker was doing his makeup impatiently. He had never received such treatment before.

It was unfair that the deceased could not be criticized.

After the funeral, everyone went to the side hall for a meal. It was a buffet, but they did not eat much. They only ate pastries and food like sausages. It was only used as an afternoon tea to fill their hunger. It was impossible for them to have a full meal here.

Zhou Ze poured himself a gla.s.s of wine and drank some before walking out of the side hall. He planned to talk to Miss Liu's family about the rental of the store.

Xu Qinglang said that he would book it for a year first, and then Zhou Ze would pay him rent monthly. This was also because Zhou Ze could not fork out so much money in one go, so Zhou Ze had to return the favor. If he could help them negotiate the price, then so be it.

After looking around, Zhou Ze did not find the family member who had appeared earlier. Instead, he saw the priest standing at the staircase smoking a cigarette.

When Zhou Ze walked over, the priest handed him a cigarette.

The two men stood together, smoking.

The priest was not a foreigner. He was also Chinese. He was about thirty years old and looked rather young.

Without much interaction, the priest walked away after finis.h.i.+ng his cigarette. Zhou Ze stubbed out the cigarette and happened to see that there seemed to be a staircase leading down.

It should be the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Normal Chinese families did not have the habit of bas.e.m.e.nts. Zhou Ze was curious about this place, so he walked down and saw the elevator inside. Beside the elevator was a metal door.

The door was open. He pushed it open and walked in, feeling the temperature drop.

In front of Zhou Ze were two steel beds and a freezer. It looked like a hospital morgue, but there were other equipment.

It felt like a slaughterhouse.

Zhou Ze walked to the bed and touched it. There should be a dead person lying here. Miss Liu should have been lying here for her last beauty treatment.

This was a beauty salon for the dead.

"Sir, this place is not open to the public."

A young man in a gray suit stood at the door and spoke.

Zhou Ze nodded apologetically. He had been rude.

"Have we met somewhere before?" Zhou Ze asked because he thought the man looked familiar.

"Perhaps. This is my name card. Of course, we don't want you to use this number."

The young man handed Zhou Ze a business card.

The name "Chen Zesheng" was written on the name card, and the name was the head of the Western Funeral Home.

"Is business good?" Zhou Ze asked.

For a long time, it had been people asking Zhou Ze if his business was doing well. Now, Zhou Ze finally had the chance to ask others.

Of course, Zhou Ze also knew that when people asked him if his business was good, they were actually thinking:

Who would have thought that this idiot would open a lousy bookstore in such a lousy place!

"It's a little deserted. After all, not many people in China accept such a tradition," Chen Zesheng said with a bitter smile.

"Mm."

Zhou Ze felt better after asking.

"By the way, the victim's family is on the second floor," Chen Zesheng reminded.

"Okay, thank you."

Zhou Ze left the bas.e.m.e.nt.

However, when Zhou Ze walked up the stairs, his hand that was holding the name card suddenly trembled. He lowered his head to look at the name on the name card again.

Chen Zesheng.

It seemed

The one who died with Miss Liu the next day.

Chen?

He closed the metal door.

A young man in a suit and leather shoes lay on a steel bed.

He reached out to gently rub the right side of his face. The skin had already dried up, and there was a green liquid that flowed out.

He shook his head.

He sighed.

"Once I died, the two undertakers at home started to slack off.

If this continues, what will happen to the business? "