Chapter 1: The Wrong Soul?

Ming Dai stood in the bustling service hall, feeling completely lost.

No, perhaps it was more accurate to say that a ghost should feel lost.

Was this the underworld?

Looking around at the staff dressed in suits and ties, listening to the endless announcements from the loudspeakers calling out numbers, Ming Dai almost believed she was at a government office handling some bureaucratic business. The only thing that made her doubt that was the large electronic screen above, which displayed:

Underworld Service Hall, Here to Serve You!

With a sigh, adopting the mindset of “since I’m here, I might as well relax,” and thinking that death was death, she glanced at the ticket in her hand and found a seat.

Ming Dai only remembered that the night before, she had returned home after work, cooked a delicious meal, but hadn’t even had time to enjoy it when she suddenly felt disoriented. Someone called her name, and for some unknown reason, she followed the person.

She had always been very cautious as a veteran single woman, living alone. There was no way she would just follow someone without question.

Moreover, the one who had called her name was a young man with a shifty look, dressed in a suit, looking respectable, but holding a burning fire poker. As he walked, he called her name.

Her body seemed to lose control, and without realizing it, she had followed him.

By the time she regained her senses, she had already gotten into the car with the young man. The next thing she remembered was standing in front of the service hall, where the young man handed her a piece of paper with her ticket number written on it.

Looking at the words “Underworld Service Hall” and “Afterlife Department” on the window signs, it became clear again—it wasn’t a movie. She had really died.

Ming Dai came from a family of medicine practitioners. Her grandfather had been an imperial physician, and her family was deeply rooted in the medical field. Her father and mother were both research enthusiasts, completely absorbed in their scientific pursuits. Growing up, she was raised by her grandparents, barely seeing her parents even once a year—her parents were practically strangers to her.

Thus, her grandparents showered her with all their love, and from a young age, Ming Dai was taught traditional Chinese medicine. In high school, she began studying Western medicine. Her entire childhood could be described as spent in a whirlwind of learning and exams.

Even in college, she was pressured into earning two degrees. The hardship was real.

But her grandparents genuinely cared for her—while they couldn’t give her the moon, they gave her the stars, and she never lacked anything material.

When her grandparents passed away, their inheritance was passed on to her, their granddaughter.

Ming Dai suddenly felt drained, as if she had lost all motivation. She started to let herself go, opening a medicinal restaurant, hiring a senior to manage it. She came and went as she pleased, taking trips whenever she felt like it, and simply enjoying life.

With money, time, and no one to answer to, her days revolved around eating, drinking, playing, and having fun. Love was out of the question, and marriage was even further from her mind. She had planned to live this carefree life forever.

But unfortunately, happiness often leads to sorrow, and she somehow ended up in a mess.

She hoped her senior would remember they had agreed to meet the next day to discuss a prescription. If he couldn’t get in touch with her, he would come looking for her at home.

Otherwise, even with air conditioning, she was worried she might rot at home during the hot summer days.

While lost in these thoughts, someone sat down next to her.

She turned her head to see a man whose face had been badly injured, one arm barely hanging on, while he gripped his ticket tightly with his other hand. With only one remaining eye, he stared at the ticket in the typical “elderly person reading a phone on the subway” pose, trying to read it carefully.

Unfortunately, his vision was obscured by blood, and he couldn’t make it out for a long time.

Ming Dai glanced at her own ticket—number 438—and couldn’t help but curl her lip. This was just her luck.

Looking at the man’s ticket, she softly told him, “Sir, your number is 439.”

The side of the man’s head near Ming Dai had been severely crushed, and his ear was missing. She had to move to the other side of him and shouted, “Sir! Your number is 439!”

This time, he heard her and smiled, thanking her. “Thanks, girl! Lucky I got 439. I almost got 438 instead, and if I had, I would’ve died at 38. Who knows who was so unlucky to get that number, ending up with 438, the death number.”

The man’s hearing was impaired, as he now had only one ear, so his voice was loud enough for the entire service hall to hear. All the ghosts around them immediately looked down at their tickets.

Moments later, the voice broadcast announced: “Please, 438th ghost, proceed to the 14th afterlife counter for your business. Please, 438th ghost, proceed to the 14th afterlife counter for your business.”

Ming Dai thought, You died so horribly, there must be a reason for it!

Under the burning stares of everyone around her, she walked toward the 14th window.

Behind the counter sat a staff member with dark circles under her eyes, nearly down to the floor. She looked as though she had died from overwork.

Ming Dai sat down and placed her ticket on the counter.

Ding—”Dear 438th ghost, hello. I am the 38th clerk of the Underworld Service, sincerely at your service.”

Ming Dai looked at her stiff smile and trembling voice, feeling like the woman was about to die again right there.

“Hello.”

The 38th clerk scanned the ticket, and the screen displayed some information about a person.

“Hello, let me reconfirm your basic information:

Ming Dai, female, aged 35, passed away from a sudden heart attack due to overwork at 8:00 PM on March 30th, 2333, in Room 1308, Rose Apartments, Beijing…”

Ming Dai listened to the clerk’s mechanical recitation, staring at the unfamiliar face on the screen, and a bad premonition began to form in her mind.

“Um, Miss?”

The clerk’s pale lips stiffened as she forced a smile. “Hello, is there a problem?”

Ming Dai weakly spoke, “This doesn’t seem to be me. I’m Dai as in Fendai, not Dai as in Chaodai.”

The forced smile on the clerk’s face immediately vanished. Her eyes, which had been barely open, suddenly snapped wide, the bloodshot pupils almost bulging out.

She lunged at the computer screen, sticking half her body into it, frantically swiping her hands across the screen.

Ming Dai could actually see the documents flying around inside the computer as the clerk rummaged through them.

After checking repeatedly, the clerk confirmed that the name had been entered correctly, meaning—a mistake had been made in collecting her soul!

With a look of utter despair, she yanked her head out of the screen with a pop, and then her neck stretched unnaturally long, shooting through the glass, her head now inches from Ming Dai’s face.

Ming Dai finally realized that the 38th clerk had large eyes, double eyelids, but they were bloodshot.

After a sharp scream, a group of people rushed over and surrounded them. Soon, both Ming Dai and the 38th clerk, along with the computer, were taken to a conference room.

Ming Dai sat alone in the empty conference room. A cheerful ghost girl, who had apparently died by hanging, brought her a large assortment of food and drinks.

Ming Dai sipped on almond milk tea, gazing out through the glass at the scene outside.

The 38th clerk, still holding her computer, was slamming it onto the head of a male ghost while shouting at him furiously. The person she was scolding was the young man who had brought her to the underworld.

Tsk tsk, work-related accident!

Ming Dai sipped her milk tea and eavesdropped, piecing together what had happened.

She had been mistakenly dragged to the underworld by the newly appointed Black Wuchang, who had accidentally taken her soul!

Ming Dai, still slurping her almond milk tea and fighting back tears, couldn’t believe the most tragic thing in her life had just happened.

She was dead, and her money hadn’t been spent yet!

As she thought about the long string of zeros in her bank account, she realized she had to make them send her back!

While she was listening, the clerk outside continued to rant, not a single curse word escaping her lips, when another ghost arrived.

This time, it was a tall, long-legged man with a cold demeanor—like a seasoned executive or perhaps even a grim reaper.

He frowned and listened for a while, then glanced at the meeting room. He happened to see Ming Dai enjoying a chicken leg and sipping cola, watching the scene unfold, which only made him more frustrated.

Finally, three ghosts entered, and Ming Dai had finished eating.

The three ghosts sat across from her, and she felt a little nervous.

“Burp.“

The three ghosts stood up and bowed deeply to Ming Dai. “We’re sorry!”

Ming Dai blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to do this. Just send me back, and I’ll be fine.”

The young man who had summoned her raised his head, his face sorrowful as he looked at her. “We can’t send you back… your body was already cremated. Wuwu!”

“What?!”