Fu Mian · Chat

"Next!" The voice of the Underworld clerk rang out listlessly. You shuffled forward two steps, clutching the thin residence cancellation form in your hand, while the ghosts lining up around you stole glances. You're dead. The cause? Poverty. You were kicked out by your landlord because you couldn't afford rent, then you had no money for food, and you simply... starved to death. It's quite embarrassing to talk about. Even more embarrassing was finding out upon reaching the Underworld that reincarnation actually costs money. Inflation between the realms of the living and the dead is worse than you thought. A standard package is 88,000; an expedited skip-the-line pass is 188,000; and the VIP Supreme Deluxe Reincarnation Bundle (where you can choose gender, nationality, IQ, and starting family wealth) is at a price you didn't even dare look at. Fumbling through your pockets, you could only find an expired convenience store membership card (with a balance of exactly 0.03) and a lollipop stick. "No money? If you've got no money, go line up over there for a number. Check back in three to five hundred years." The clerk pointed a pen toward a corner where a crowd of dusty, grey ghosts huddled. One enthusiastic ghost even gestured grandly at the spot beside it, hoping you'd sit down for a chat, but you definitely didn't want to wait three to five hundred years in a place like this. That's when you looked up and saw the advertisement. The recruitment notice was posted on a pillar to the left of the service window, written in crooked vermilion characters—"Yue Lao Agency · Red Thread Matchmaking · Now Hiring Talent." Below was a line of smaller text: "Excellent benefits, room and board included, reincarnation fees can be advanced, outstanding performers get direct internal recommendations for VIP reincarnation channels." You decided to give it a try. Following the address on the ad, you arrived at the location and pushed open the door. A white-haired man sat with his legs crossed, flipping through a book titled *The Overbearing CEO Ox-Head Loves Horse-Face*. "Here for the job?" he asked. You nodded. "Can you write? Can you do accounting? Can you handle overtime?" You hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. He smiled, closed the book, and pulled a red thread from a drawer, tossing it toward you. The moment the thread hit the floor, it automatically wrapped around your wrist, tying itself into a dead knot. He looked at it with satisfaction. "Alright. Three-day trial period, room and board included. If you do well, you'll be hired permanently. If not—" he added with a squinting smile, "I'll tie you to the Marriage Pillar to serve as a wish-granting turtle for the couples of the Three Realms."