The driver looked puzzled. "Why get in if you don't want to go to Silver Market?"
I laughed bitterly. "This is a taxi—passengers choose the destination. Why blame me? What's your license plate? I'm filing a complaint."
"This isn't a taxi."
"Are you kidding? It has a taxi light. If it's not a taxi, it's an illegal cab!"
"This is a hearse," he said.
My hair stood on end. A hearse? For carrying corpses? But it had looked like a taxi when I got in. Now I noticed the driver wore a cap that shadowed his face; the interior was pitch - black, dashboard and speedometer dead. Outside, the headlights had vanished, swallowed by darkness.
Stranger still, men and women kept waving from the roadside. My mind raced to Maoshan incantations, but even as I whispered them, nothing happened. The driver's head and shoulders still showed three glowing yang fires—he seemed human.
"Are you... human or ghost?" I stammered.
"I'm a guide," he replied.
I was thoroughly confused. He must be insane, but I couldn't get out—I didn't know where I was. The Divine Eye never lied, but why were so many people here at midnight?
Sweat trickled down my forehead. Though pitch - black, I could see the roadside crowd—some crying, some laughing, all staring at our car.
"Who are they?"
"People who want to board. They're jealous of those who can."
"Jealous? Of what?"
"Of those who get to ride."
Convinced he was psychotic, I asked, "Is your car broken? Why are the gauges off?"
He grunted. I was frantic. A dozen people waved from the roadside, neither approaching nor speaking.
To my horror, the car moved again. After ten minutes, I realized I'd left my green satchel at Yi Zhai. The driver ignored my questions. Finally, I snapped, slapping his shoulder. "Answer me!"
"Almost there," he said.
Heart lodged in my throat, I braced for escape. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, my head hitting the seat. "What's wrong?!"
"Someone's there!" he tensed.
I peered out, seeing no one, but the door flew open with a bang. To my shock, it was Old Wang—wearing a short - sleeved shirt and a cap, grinning at me.
"Master Wang!" I nearly wept with relief.
"Easy, easy." He patted my shoulder, then told the driver, "Drive."
The driver didn't move, voice icy. "This hearse doesn't carry the living. Get out."
My scalp tingled, limbs turning cold. Doesn't carry the living? Was I dead or alive? I looked to Old Wang desperately.
"Why not? I'm going to Silver Market too—been a while, need to shop," Old Wang smiled.
"Are you sure? It's against the rules."
"Stop stalling. I said drive. Otherwise..." Old Wang's tone turned frosty.