Ban Xia: The Worry-Free Crossing

She grew up in a funeral home, a place that had always been her world. At night, the fluorescent lights cast an even harsher pallor on the water-streaked floors. She sprinted down the long corridor, almost like she’d lost her mind. The first door came into view. She pushed it open, flipped the switch—no light. In the pitch-black doorway lingered a faint but undeniable scent of blood. No one was inside. Just the fresh, iron tang of blood, disturbingly vivid. The second door—no one. The third—still no one. Everyone was gone. Uncle Qi, who tended the boiler; the plump cleaning lady; even the ghosts who normally lurked everywhere—all of them had disappeared! The funeral home, vast and built i...