The god returned to her place where she was begging and sat down again. He gently shook the broken bowl in his hand and watched the copper coins jingle inside.

He is a beggar and a ghost king. He looked at the joys, sorrows, and sorrows of the world with a pair of eyes that did not belong to the world, and his emotions resonated with those people. So he has a relationship that the previous generations of ghost kings have never had.

Once in the underworld, he will be a walking corpse for life. Sometimes he thinks to himself, why am I not alone, why do my hands always have to be so cold?

The sound of copper coins in the bowl brought him back to reality abruptly. Someone else threw money into his bowl. As long as he occasionally lifted his unkempt hair a little to show his face, the handouts he received that day were much greater.

This young ghost king didn't even know what he looked like, he never felt that his good-looking face was of any use, he habitually smiled at the people passing by, but thought in his heart: "I've been with these beggars for so long, and now I want to leave them, and I'm still a little reluctant for a while." Well, let's go back tomorrow, and be a beggar on its last day today, and say goodbye to them. ”

He didn't know how to part, but he already felt sad in his heart.

These beggars are the most special people in the city, and they know each other well, so they help each other when something happens, because if they don't help each other, no one will pay attention to them. The people around him noticed that the youngest of them seemed silent, and one of them asked, "Xiao Di, what happened to you today, why did you feel depressed after meeting that Taoist priest? Who is he in your family?"

Shen Tu shook his head, not knowing how to speak. Do you say that you are going back? Go back to the underworld, and never see you again?

The young man was full of thoughts. If he hadn't looked so young, others would have thought he was hundreds of years old. He likes to help others the most, and sometimes the money he asks for all day is divided in the evening. When asked, they said, "I'm just here for my brother." Over time, everyone knew that his brother was missing, so they would always help him find him when he went somewhere else.

At night, the ghost king and other beggars were huddled in a ruined temple, and some cold wind blew in the dark outside, blowing his unkempt hair a little, and his dark eyes hid the emotions that he couldn't see clearly, and the black-haired and extremely pale young man silently stuffed the silver ticket given by the Taoist chief during the day into the net bottle held by Guanyin in the temple.

An old man walked in with a little staggering in the thick night outside, and Shen Tu recognized that this was Uncle Tian, who had begged for food with him before, so he moved to the side and gave him a place. The old man let out an old sigh, tapped his already inflexible legs, and sat down slowly.

Shen Tu moved to the side again, his body was too cold, and this cold would kill others without the gods knowing. He was always afraid that he would hurt others.

"Ahem, child, your face has been very pale these days, are you infected with wind cold?"

Shen Tu wanted to say that his face had been very pale, but he just smiled. So Uncle Tian reached out to touch his messy hair with some pity, and he endured it for a long time before he slapped his hand away. He poured out dozens of copper plates from his rag pocket, and by the dim candlelight of the temple, he stepped forward and counted them one by one, and finally pushed four to the god: "Child, take it and see a doctor, you are young and young, and old bones like mine are no longer useful." ”

He looked at Shen Tu as if he were his own son. This is probably the only sustenance for this old man to beg and survive for a long time.

Shen Tu looked at the copper plate that had been smashed out of many pits, and was slightly stunned. For the first time, he looked up at the old man carefully. He looked no different from other old men, with dark skin, thick and deformed knuckles, and a face full of furrows, which was the most common person in the underworld. I don't know where I came from or where I'm going, but I stubbornly remember one or two people, and then I knocked over Meng Po soup.

"Uncle," he said suddenly, "didn't you say before that your son was going to join the army?

Uncle Tian shook his head and couldn't help coughing a few times: "Now if he comes back, he won't be able to find a home." There was no one to farm, the people in the village ran out, and I was so old that I could only come to beg for food. But you, at a young age, why don't you look for a job to do?"

"I can only stay in one place to find a job, and I have to look for my brother, so I can only walk around. ”

"Eh, your brother ......" the old man sighed, "they are all poor people." ”

Shen Tu just nodded thoughtfully, as if he hadn't heard what he had to say. In the dead of night, a sleeper passed by and was somewhat surprised to find that he had not yet slept. With his back to the crowd, he didn't know what he was doing.

"Yo, Xiao Di, what are you doing—" He craned his neck and looked around, seeing that he was just stunned, so he didn't ask any further. Shen Tu waited until the people who had risen that night had gone to sleep, and looked around cautiously, before he crept into a corner where there were few people, and with a slight grasp of his hand, he pulled out the book of life and death.

The book was in tatters, and it looked as if it had been turned over tens of thousands of times, but it still stubbornly did not fall apart. Shen Tu lowered his head and sniffed, and there was a bitter winter-like smell on it, as if it had been soaked in the water of the Yellow Spring. He lowered his head and began to turn the pages page by page, turning to the page of Uncle Arita's name, and then stretched out his hand and grabbed the judge's pen, and wrote and drew on the book, and couldn't help but feel a little happy in his heart.

Probably this is the only benefit of being a ghost king. He has the only ability in the underworld that can change people's lives and deaths at will. He didn't know what he had written on the paper, but gradually a smile came on his lips, and finally he closed the book, threw it into the air, and lay down somewhat comfortably, quietly listening to the breathing of the others.

By the dawn of the morning, the young ghost king had already packed up his only belongings—a broken bowl, which gradually disappeared in the black qi that came out.