I was “un-reincarnatable”. At first, I didn’t know.

Along with other deceased souls, I filed onto the banks of Wang Chuan River, unaware of the slithering snake of fate, ready to strike.

I was distracted by an underworld that hummed like a beehive. The wide riverbanks throbbed with crowds, yet the Gates of Gui Men Guan hemorhraged even more souls onto the shores. Most hurried blindly, with confusion in their faces, staggering under the weight of burial items. Their footsteps churned the fine black sand into mud. Seeing a woman dragging her jeweled trunk through the sludge, I was glad I died with nothing.

Well, almost nothing. I reached into my sleeve and touched the pouch again. It was vital to my plan. Suddenly I felt nervous.

I shrank back and looked around. Mist rose from the water and condensed into shimmering swirls, not unlike early mornings in our mountains. The air was stained with the musk of incense, overly strong just like our temple. Waves roared, reminding me of our waterfall in the summer. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that I was still in my village, and that my people were still alive…

“Wonderlife tonic! One spoonful and you are guaranteed a wonderful next life!” A voice plucked me out of my reverie.

“Keep the memories of your last life. Be reborn with an advantage. Price negotiable!” Another yelled.

“Special deal for murderers and rapists! With this handbook, you shall ace your trial with King Yan!”

From the souls’ tattered clothing, I could tell they had been in Yodu for a while. They smiled at us newcomers, but the gleam in their eyes betrayed their bargains. I had seen looks like that on seasoned merchants. I knew good deals were never offered but had to be sought.

Sure enough, an old lady accosted them with hands on her hips.

“My son used your handbook and was reincarnated as a cockroach!”

I let out a laugh. The villagers would have enjoyed it all. Grandma Fu would have haggled until these crooks begged for mercy… the healer would have sniffed the tonic and named the recipe… Ahu might have gone for a swim… Bo might have… The thought of my people brought tears to my eyes. I had to find them, no matter the cost.

Determination swelled inside me. I tried to recall the stories about underworld: the Huang Quan Road, the Gates of Gui Men Guan, the Wangchuan River… These boats before me must be the ferries that transported souls to reincarnation.

The villagers, who died earlier, likely took one. I wasted no more time and pushed my way towards the boats.

The first ferryman snapped his oars as soon as I stepped on.

The second ferryman tipped over his boat.

The third ferryman fell overboard.

The fourth….

The fifth…

After the ninth ferryman ran his boat into the pier, those around me began whispering that I was daomei, the worst kind of misfortune.

It had been a long while since I was called daomei. The villagers used to call me that because I was abandoned next to a well fifteen years ago. They didn’t know how a newborn ended up alone in a mountainous village, but they raised me nonetheless. Growing up, I made sure no one regretted the decision to take me in. I became the girl who plowed three acres in one day... the girl who dug a canal during the drought... the girl known as fuyun, the best kind of good luck. But in the end, I was daomei, because I caused the deaths of the villagers.

What happened to them, what happened to me was not an accident. The ferrymen’s refusal to let me onboard only convinced me that something was fishy.

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Just then, a peddler strutted to me.

“Resurrection amulet! Wear it and you can return to your past life!” He teased in my ear.

I opened my mouth to curse when a roar sounded.

“I’ve told your slimy bonehead to stop scamming souls!” A man with the head of a bull shouted.

“Don’t let us see you again,” his companion warned. He had the head of a horse.

The skeletal-looking peddler vanished in the blink of an eye. A few souls nearby also bolted when they saw the monstrous horse and bull men. I stumbled backwards myself.

“Don’t eat me, I won’t taste good. I eat a lot of stinky tofu—”

“We are vegetarians,” the horseman interrupted, nostrils flaring. “My name is Horseface and this is my colleague Bullhead. We are the Fetchers of the Dead.”

“These souls think we will forcibly reincarnate them,” Bullhead explained, baring his teeth in a smile but only looking scarier.

I drew a deep breath. Fetchers of the Dead? I heard about them. They were underworld gods who guided souls to their next lives. Here was my chance!

“Oh, nice to meet you here. This place is exciting, of course, so I don’t blame them. But personally, I’m ready for a change of scenery,” I said through up-tilted eyes. “It would be lovely to move onto my next life.”

There, I thought, I delivered that with just enough enthusiasm but not too much desperation.

“You are certainly different,” Bullhead praised. “So many refuse to budge. In fact, I call this place squatterville.”

“It’s refreshing to see a soul ready to go. I always say that one should not let the fear of the unknown hold one back,” Horseface agreed with a nod.

It wasn’t the fear of the unknown that held me back, but fear of the known that pushed me forward. Someone plotted the deaths of 114 villagers, and I intended to find out whom and why. I checked on my pouch again; it was still there.

“Alright then, follow us."

The crowds parted easily for the towering Horseface and Bullhead. I kept close and ignored the gaping eyes of the ferrymen we passed.

Their oversized boat wobbled as I stepped on. Horseface steadied it with his large hands. At that moment, a ferryman called after us.

I ripped the oars from Bullhead’s grasp and slammed them against the pier. The boat launched across the water at once, and the banks vanished behind the mist.

“Wow, you certainly are eager,” Bullhead exclaimed. “No soul has ever done my job for me, but don’t roll too hard. I need to see where to take you first.”

He pulled out a scroll from his waist band. From its gilded pattern, I could tell it was the same scroll the ferrymen had read before they refused me passage.

I immediately flashed a smile at Bullhead. He glanced back at me, un-enchanted. With pouty lips and perfect teeth, I was the belle of my village, and when I smiled, all the boys would forget what they were doing. Had I lost my charm?

No, I comforted myself, Bullhead was an ox, he must only like cows.

I turned to Horseface. How did the herder get village horses to follow his command?

“Fwheeoooo-don’t-fwheeeooooo-read-fwheeeooooooo-the scroll-fwheeeooooo-FWHEEE!” I whistled.

“Stop that. Makes me want to pee,” Horseface said. He was unrolling the scroll now with Bullhead.

Sweat rolled down my forehead. I was out of both time and options. I felt around my pockets. Sugar cube, sugar cube, horses loved sugar cubes. Did I have a sugar cube—

“Ziyan, you can’t be reincarnated!” Bullhead declared, squinting at the giant scroll.

“Why?”

“Because, because… because you committed suicide.”

I stared at his shifty eyes and quivering ears.

“Really?” I said. “Earlier, they let on a soul who stabbed himself in the gut.”

“He will be reincarnated as a rat,” Bullhead said.

“Reincarnated nonetheless,” I retorted.

Horseface opened his snout to say something, but Bullhead leaned forward.

“You survived a massacre, only to commit suicide right after,” Bullhead whispered, gawking at me. “Are you stupid?”

“Bullhead!” Horseface cried, but when he glanced at me, he could not hide the similar curiosity on his face.

I bit down on my lip. Should I show them the pouch? I didn’t trust them yet. But what if they could save the villagers?

Not hearing from me, Bullhead dropped his gaze to the scroll again.

“But even suicide shouldn’t land you in hell—"

I jumped up, causing Bullhead and Horseface to flinch.

“WHERE?”

“Sit down!” Horseface warned, pulling out chains, hammers, and a flask with questionable liquid.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Bullhead said with a gulp.

I eyed the tools in their hands. Slowly, I sank back onto the floor of the boat. The rocking boat created waves in the black water, obscuring my reflection. Cold ripples of fear radiated through my body.

Horseface turned to Bullhead.

“WHEN WILL YOU LEARN YOU CAN’T TELL HELL-BOUND SOULS WHERE THEY ARE GOING? HAVE YOU NOT BEEN PUNCHED, BITTEN, AND VOMITTED ON ENOUGH?”

“Oh, Horsey,” Bullhead howled, cowering despite being twice Horseface’s size. “Let’s just tell her the truth.”

Horseface let out a neigh. Bullhead turned to me.

“Your villagers were sent to the 18th level of hell, reserved for the evilest of souls, without trial,” Bullhead whispered. “That’s where you are headed too. Ziyan, what did you do?”

What the hell did we do, I wondered, staring at the procession of ferries floating down the Wangchuan River. The most heinous crime of my life was feeding the village piglets peppers and causing them diarrhea. And the villagers, they did nothing wrong. My eyes throbbed with tears as my mind traveled to the events of this morning.