Chapter One: A Mysterious Sudden Death

The uproar over the “employee sudden death incident” gradually subsided. Yet fear still lingered in everyone’s hearts, for this was not the first time such a tragedy had struck our company. In just this past week, three people had died one after another. Some employees simply resigned and went home, unwilling to risk being the next victim.

My name is Chu Yun, born in a small village in northern Jiangsu. When I reached high school, I discovered that studying was not my calling, so I dropped out early. My parents learned that my cousin was working in the south and decided I should follow her there. At first, the life of a laborer seemed all right, but after some time, numbness set in. Each day consisted of nothing but work, meals, and sleep, leaving no time for entertainment. Counting the days, I realized I had been working at this factory for almost a year.

Let me introduce the company. It is located in the southern region near Shanghai. For the sake of privacy, I’ll refer to it as “True True Stationery.” “Believe me!” Anyone familiar with our company knows that what I’m about to share is absolutely true, though perhaps a bit exaggerated in parts.

To return to the topic—the company primarily manufactures pencils, gel pens, ballpoint pens, and colored pens. My cousin and I both work in the first gel pen production department. My cousin was called home by her family a week ago for a matchmaking appointment, so she asked the supervisor for ten days’ leave, leaving me alone here for the time being.

Just half an hour ago, another worker in our department collapsed at the workstation without warning and lost his young life. The previous two victims were young women, lively and seemingly healthy, only twenty-two or twenty-three years old, with no known illnesses. Yet tragedy struck so suddenly, and rumors spread like wildfire throughout the factory—some claimed there were supernatural forces at work.

As for these rumors, I believe talk of ghosts and monsters is nonsense without any evidence. Still, I must admit the situation is strange. The oddest thing is that every person who died did so at exactly 10:23, not a minute off. No one would believe this was mere coincidence—such things do not happen by chance.

Because another death occurred at the factory, the bosses announced a three-day holiday. The crowds slowly dispersed, and the police, in uniform, took the deceased away.

Heavy-hearted, I returned to my rented room. To say I wasn’t affected would be a lie. To avoid dwelling on these matters, I lay on my bed, took out my phone, and started playing games. In our era, the most popular game was “Fight the Landlord,” often advertised on TV:

“Toiling under the noon sun, nothing is reliable. With nothing to do, better play Fight the Landlord.”

I don’t know how long I played before my vision blurred, and suddenly I was transported to a strange world. Around me, jagged rocks rose, the sky was shrouded in mist with barely five meters of visibility. Before me stood a square table, and I sat in an armchair, holding a deck of playing cards.

Yet this deck was disturbingly odd—each card depicted a terrifying scene, all from the Eighteen Levels of Hell. I had never been, of course, but had seen similar images on TV.

As I puzzled over this, I realized that two monsters had appeared on either side of me. Their appearance was both horrifying and grotesque. If not for believing I was dreaming, I might have wet myself from fright.

To my left sat a tall, thin figure with a tongue dangling more than a foot long and a deathly pale complexion. He wore a snow-white trench coat and a pointed conical hat, the center marked with four bold black characters: “Fortune Upon Meeting.”

On my right was a creature dressed all in black, with a grim expression, bluish skin, fierce fangs, and a dark complexion. He too wore a pointed black hat, but his bore the words: “Peace Under Heaven.”

When he saw me staring, he glared impatiently and said, “Well? Are you going to play your card or not? Don’t forget our agreement.”

Agreement? I had no recollection of any such thing. What were these monsters, and how did they appear in my dream? Just as I was about to ask, an image flashed through my mind. These two seemed familiar. In an instant, it dawned on me—they were none other than the legendary Black and White Impermanence, the famous soul collectors of myth.

At this realization, I grew uneasy, even began to wonder if I was dreaming or if these two had actually come to claim my soul. Thinking back, I reasoned this must be a dream; after all, I’d never done anything truly wicked, save for stealing a bird’s egg or burning a corn stack as a child.

The most serious accusation ever leveled against me was being falsely rumored to be dead—which wasn’t my fault. I remember it was a summer when I was in sixth grade. My friends and I went swimming in a river that was deep and wide, full of whirlpools. We bet on who could swim across; the loser would help with homework.

I went first. Halfway across, my leg cramped and I got caught in a whirlpool, swept along. I thought I was done for, but managed to swim desperately toward the opposite bank. When I finally got my bearings, I realized the water was shallow and I could touch the bottom. My classmates, seeing something was wrong, had all run off already, leaving me to climb ashore and dress alone.

That afternoon back at school, everyone thought I had died. Furious, I sought out the classmate who spread the rumor, and on my way up the stairs to the classroom, I met my homeroom teacher. To my surprise, his first words were, “Ah! You’re not dead?” I silently cursed his ancestors thirteen generations deep.

“Must die.”

White Impermanence suddenly stared at me and shouted.

The abruptness of it made my heart leap into my throat. Whether this was a dream or not, to encounter both of these lords was terrifying enough.

Trembling, I pleaded, “Honorable sirs, I’ve never committed any evil or offended you—why must I die?”

White Impermanence glared, his expression agitated. “Must die. Must die.”

Their demeanor left me utterly dumbfounded. I dared not utter another word. It’s well known that these lords could snuff me out as easily as crushing an ant.

I held my breath, cold sweat running down my back, fervently wishing this dream would end soon.

But the more I hoped, the more things seemed to turn against me.