“You should know this. The reason is similar to the story of ‘painting the dragon, dotting the eyes.’ When the eyes are dotted, the dragon comes to life. The same is true for paper figures; they will attract evil spirits to possess them.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Jiang Cheng responded.

“Then the three *bu zha*... have you heard of them?” Du Moyu’s voice was even lower, his expression changing, a hint of caution, and an unspeakable strangeness.

Jiang Cheng instinctively perked up. “Tell me about it.”

Du Moyu didn’t keep him in suspense and immediately said, “Folklore says that paper figure makers have three *bu zha*, and these three correspond to three types of people.”

“The first is not to make figures for shrews. Such people are vicious in life and will definitely pester others after death. Before their death, you should avoid them; after their death, you should steer clear.”

“The second is not to make figures for pregnant women. A pregnant woman’s death involves two lives, with extremely heavy *sha* (negative energy). Not to mention paper figure makers, even other trades that deal with the dead dare not touch such corpses too much.”

“The third is for those in the same line of work, those who also deal with the dead: corpse sewers, executioners, corpse drivers, the spirit keepers of the *yi zhuang* (mortuary), and us, the corpse retrievers. We’re all included.”

After a pause, Du Moyu continued, “People like us are destined to be afflicted by *sha* and are not part of the cycle of reincarnation.”

Jiang Cheng frowned and reminded him, “We’re just playing the role of corpse retrievers in this world. We’re not corpse retrievers in the real world. Why are you so deeply immersed in the role?”

“This is called empathy. Every qualified author needs to master this ability to better resonate with the characters in the book, worry about what they worry about, think what they think, care about what they care about, make the characters full and vivid, and use the best state to reward my readers,” Du Moyu said, raising his head, his expression very emotional.

According to Jiang Cheng's original character, he would definitely nip this budding paranormal author in the bud, but after seeing the light in Du Moyu's eyes, he eventually softened.

Most importantly, Du Moyu seemed like a decent person. He knew a lot and was willing to share it with him.

“Anything else?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“This…” Du Moyu’s throat moved, staring at the empty teacup in his hand, and smiled embarrassedly.

Jiang Cheng picked up the teapot and poured him another cup of tea. Du Moyu gulped it down, wiped the water overflowing from the corner of his mouth, and looked at Jiang Cheng with a satisfied smile. “That’s all.”

“Really all?” Jiang Cheng smiled playfully.

Du Moyu shook his head. “That’s all.”

Jiang Cheng rolled up his sleeves, sat up, grabbed Du Moyu by the neck, and was about to throw him out the window. “From my interactions with you, I know you’re a cliffhanger addict, you like to only say half of things, right? Today, I’m going to fix this habit of yours.”

“No, no, no!” Du Moyu panicked a little. He didn’t expect Jiang Cheng to have such a bad temper. “Actually, there’s one more thing I didn’t say, but this is more of a hunch, so I…”

Jiang Cheng hadn’t originally planned to do anything to Du Moyu, just to put on a show to keep him from getting too carried away. Seeing him soften, he let him go.

Du Moyu rubbed his shoulder and said softly, “The last thing is to be careful not to drip blood on the paper figure when touching it, otherwise, something terrible will happen.”

“What is something terrible?” Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but worry about Du Moyu’s readers. This person was too good at creating suspense.

Du Moyu shrank his head and said embarrassedly, “I don’t know either, this… I really don’t know, please believe me.”

Seemingly worried that Jiang Cheng would punish him again, Du Moyu behaved very well.

“Dong!”

“Dong!”

Two crisp sounds of the clapper attracted their attention.

The night watchman… was coming.

Pushing open the door, they saw Zhang Jun, Yu Abiao, and the other man already standing at the gate of the house. As Jiang Cheng and Du Moyu walked over, the night watchman just appeared in front of the house.

Similar to their last encounter, the night watchman’s gaze lingered on Jiang Cheng’s face for a few seconds, and the strange look made Jiang Cheng frown.

Fortunately, after a while, the night watchman finally shifted his gaze. “Tonight, you corpse retrievers will have to work hard again. You need to go to the house of Zhou, the paper figure shopkeeper, and choose suitable paper figures for his funeral.”

The night watchman’s voice was as hoarse as ever, rough like stones grinding on sandpaper, blending with the night wind, making people shudder. “You can choose any paper figure, but if you choose a male paper figure, remember to paint the eyes on the paper figure.”

“What’s the reason for this?” Zhou Qing felt his scalp tingle when he heard this. Dotting the eyes of a paper figure was a big taboo. He wouldn't be able to rest in peace if he didn't understand.

The night watchman seemed to have anticipated this reaction, so he narrowed his eyes slightly and changed his tone. “If you don’t want to dot the eyes of the paper figure, you can also choose a female paper figure.”

“Female paper figure… what’s the saying?” Du Moyu asked cautiously.

“If you choose a female paper figure… you only need to paint the nails of the female paper figure, red nails.” The night watchman stared at them and emphasized, “The red paint… is in that room. You’ll see it when you go in.”

“Painting red nails on a paper figure…” This time, even Zhang Jun’s expression changed.

“Heh heh…” Noticing the change in these people’s expressions, the night watchman made a chilling sound, like an old man struggling to death, still unwilling to swallow his last breath. “Remember my words, otherwise… you won’t be able to take the paper figure away.”

Glanced at by the night watchman, Du Moyu only felt a chill down his spine, a cold air rushing to the top of his head.

Zhang Jun hesitated and opened his mouth, “Senior, you haven’t told us the rules yet. What do we need to pay attention to…”

Before he could finish speaking, he stopped abruptly, because at this moment, the night watchman’s damaged face was already looking at Zhang Jun, and the only remaining eye shot out a cold light. “Outside the door, everything is safe and sound. Once you enter the door, fortune and misfortune are determined by fate. You only need to take the paper figure out of that room to succeed.”

“Apart from that, there are no other rules. You can choose the paper figure you think is suitable.” After a pause, the night watchman made a whooshing sound, his one eye scanning back and forth across the faces of several people, adding in an almost inaudible low voice, “After all, as long as Shopkeeper Zhou is satisfied.”

After speaking, the night watchman turned and left, and a faint voice floated over afterward: “Beginning at the third watch, each person has half an hour, signaled by the clapper, remember, be careful of fire, be careful of fire…”

The sound drifted farther and farther away, and in a few breaths, the night watchman’s figure merged into the vast night, as if he had never been there.

The few people each had their own thoughts and were not in the mood to be polite, each returning to their rooms.

After closing the door, Du Moyu was full of solemnity. “Did you hear what the night watchman said? He wants us to dot the eyes of the male paper figure. What the heck was he thinking?”

Jiang Cheng sat at the table, holding a teacup, and said in a confident tone, “We definitely can’t choose the male paper figure.”