Chapter Two: An 874,000-Yuan Key

Number Seven was a narrow house squeezed between brick walls. Its door had no keyhole, only a coin-shaped depression. Wanxing inserted the blank coin. Inside, thousands of red threads hung from the ceiling. Each ended in a promissory note: a missed flight, a ruined marriage, an avoided disease, an undeserved death. A black ledger marked ZERO rested in a glass case. As Wanxing approached, it opened by itself. Fresh ink appeared: LIN WANXING. ONE DEATH FORGIVEN. DEBT TRANSFERRED TO: TANG XIAOMAN. FORM OF LOSS: CRANIAL TRAUMA. Her blood went cold. “What does that mean?” Jibai did not answer. His face already had. Wanxing called Xiaoman. Her friend laughed, saying she needed only three stitches, and praised the oranges the hospital had given her.