Chapter 1: The Paper Effigy

Chapter 1: The Paper Effigy

My name is Lin Jiang, an art student. Unfortunately, during my junior year, my father fell gravely ill. The money was spent, but his health did not improve. To repay his debts, I had to drop out and return home to continue our family's traditional business—a wreath shop.

People have become wealthier these days, willing to spend more on funerals. Our wreath shop has expanded its services. Not only do we make floral wreaths, but we also craft paper effigies, paper houses, and lately, items like paper iPhones and tablets, which are quite profitable.

Customers often request that the effigies resemble celebrities, such as Fan [X] Bing and Zhang [X] Yu. Having an art background, my drawings are vivid and lifelike. Many clients return to thank me, sharing that their deceased loved ones appeared in dreams, expressing satisfaction with the paper effigies. They sometimes give me an extra tip as gratitude.

Of course, there are those who complain. Once, a man claimed that the iPad effigy I made lacked a charger, and his deceased father couldn't use it in his dream. He threatened to wreck my shop. I had no choice but to craft him a paper MacBook for free to resolve the issue.

That evening, I glanced at the clock—it was 9 o'clock, time to close. In our line of work, after 9 p.m., we mustn't take any more orders; there's a chance that the customer might not be among the living.

Before I could shut the doors, a wine-red car sped to a halt right in front of my shop. Recognizing it as a Maserati, I figured the driver must be wealthy.

A middle-aged man in a suit stepped out and inquired, "Is this Jiang's Wreath Shop?"

I nodded in affirmation. He continued, "I need a full set, and it has to be done in three hours. Can you manage?"

I hesitated. A "full set" encompasses a paper house, effigies, furniture, appliances—basically everything a living person would need. Completing such an order in three hours was nearly impossible.

"We'll pay triple the price," the middle-aged man offered, "You can use whatever is ready in your shop for the other items, but the effigy must be crafted on the spot."

Triple the price? I had to take it!

I gathered my tools and began crafting the paper effigy, shaping a human silhouette. When it came to the facial details, I asked, "Whose face should I draw?"

"Yours will do," he replied.

"That's out of the question!" I protested. "Who puts their own face on a paper effigy? It's bad luck!"

"I'll give you a hundred thousand," he said.

A hundred thousand! My heart raced. With that amount, I could clear my father's debt and return to my art.

"Are you truly offering a hundred thousand?" I was skeptical.

The middle-aged man didn’t hesitate. He asked for my bank details and promptly transferred the amount. Receiving the money filled me with joy. Pushing aside any reservations, I swiftly drew my own face on the effigy, even adding a touch of beautification.

Typically, these effigies would be adorned in playful attire. I felt a bit bashful about putting my own face on such clothing, so I opted for a low-cut dress that was both sensual and elegantly tasteful.

I took pleasure in crafting this effigy, and the client seemed very pleased. Although effigies are usually made in pairs, he insisted on just one. I then arranged for a truck to deliver everything to the address he provided.

By the time I finished, it was midnight. I decided to rest in the shop. Somehow, in a dazed state, I found myself wandering outside. After what felt like an eternity, I arrived at the gates of a mansion.

The mansion was extraordinarily lavish, complete with manicured lawns and gardens. I found myself inexplicably entering it. The interior was equally opulent – the sofa, the bed – they all looked incredibly expensive, the sort that would cost hundreds of thousands.

Suddenly, hands reached out, embracing me from behind. I felt a man pressing against my back, whispering into my ear, "Are you the woman they sent for me? Excellent, I'm quite pleased."

The man felt unusually cold. When I turned around, I was met with strikingly handsome features, the likes of which I'd never seen before. I must be dreaming – in reality, why would someone so attractive hold me like this?

While I consider myself decent-looking, my family's business in effigies has always been off-putting to others. As a child, kids would avoid me, and even when a guy showed interest, the moment he discovered our trade, he'd retreat. Crafting paper effigies myself further distanced men from me.

Assuming it was a dream, I let go of my reservations, pinching his cheek, "You're incredibly good-looking."

He smiled, even more captivating with his long lashes. Before I could admire him further, he swept me off my feet, laying me on the bed, and leaned in.

I felt my cheeks warm, but then I reminded myself it was just a dream. At twenty-three, if I didn't find someone soon, I'd be considered a spinster. What's wrong with indulging in a pleasant dream? Especially with someone more handsome than any movie star. Dreams like this don't come around often.

"From today, you're my cherished companion," he said with a voice so rich and magnetic that my eyes fluttered in pleasure. I mindlessly agreed, clinging tightly to his waist.

Waking up the next morning, I slapped my cheeks in disbelief. I'd never thought I'd dream something like this. If only I had such a handsome boyfriend in reality.

Heading to the restroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and realized I looked more beautiful. It wasn't narcissism; my skin seemed fairer, my eyes slightly larger, and even the extra weight around my waist seemed reduced.

However, why did I feel a pang of discomfort down below? Could it be that time of the month?

I didn't dwell on it and went about my day running the shop. But that night, as soon as I fell asleep, I dreamt of that mansion again, and that irresistibly handsome man. He was relentless, keeping me occupied all night.

When I looked in the mirror the next morning, I felt even more radiant. Could such dreams actually have beautifying effects?

While admiring myself, I suddenly noticed a red mark on my neck. Looking further, I found similar marks all over my body, especially around my chest area. There were also some bluish and purplish bruises on my legs.

What on earth?

I may not have tasted pork, but I've seen pigs run – aren't these the so-called "love bites" I've read about in books?

Could it be that it wasn't a dream?

Thinking it over more thoroughly, I turned pale with fear. No wonder the mansion looked familiar! Wasn't it modeled after the paper house I'd crafted? I'd designed it based on foreign mansions and priced it at three thousand. It sat unsold in the shop for a long time until it was bought by that wealthy man driving the Maserati.

Hold on, didn't the furniture in that house exactly match the ones I had crafted? And the low-cut dress I wore in the dream, wasn't it the one I had drawn for the paper figure?

Was I haunted?

Chilled to the bone, I found the address the middle-aged man had left me, hailed a taxi, and arrived at a private graveyard. The place was opulent, complete with two stone lions at its entrance.

Upon finding the tombstone and seeing the photograph affixed to it, I nearly fainted from shock. The young man in the picture was unmistakably the same man from my dreams the past two nights.

The gravestone reads: "The Tomb of Zhou Yuhao, Born 1990, Passed Away 2015."

It's been a year since he passed away!

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of the young man in the photo seemingly smiling at me. Terrified, I scrambled to my feet and ran without looking back.

I didn’t dare go into the store and went straight home. Exhausted, I collapsed on the couch. I've been in this business for over two years. Once, someone asked me to craft a paper effigy resembling a living person. Rumor had it that it was for a young couple. Not long after their marriage, the husband died in a car accident. For several nights in a row, the wife dreamt of him returning, saying he couldn't bear to leave her and wanted to take her with him.

The wife was petrified. Her elder family members, knowledgeable in these matters, brought her to me. They wanted me to create a paper effigy in her likeness, inscribe her birth details on its back, and burn it on her husband's grave, allowing the effigy to accompany him in her place.

I've heard of using paper effigies to represent the living, but using the living to replace an effigy is a first for me.

Suddenly, I heard a noise coming from the bedroom. I jumped in fear. Was it the ghostly man from my dream? Or perhaps a burglar?

Trembling, I called out, "Who's there?"

The bedroom door opened, revealing a slender man. I exclaimed in surprise, "Xiong Rui? What are you doing here?"

Xiong Rui is my cousin, our mothers being sisters. This cousin of mine has always been aimless. After finishing middle school, he never pursued further education and often mingled with unsavory characters from the streets.

He held a bank card in his hand, and I reacted with a mix of astonishment and anger, "What are you doing with my bank card?"

Xiong Rui rushed over, grabbing me, "Jiang Lin, I'm at my wit's end. Please help me, lend me a hundred thousand."