I work as a security guard at a cemetery, and I overhear the dead chatting about getting rich quick.

At midnight, the wind picked up again at Qingshan Cemetery.

Lin Ye walked around the outer perimeter of the East District and the Fushou Garden to the south beforehand, and only returned to the security booth after confirming that the main gate, side gate and fire extinguisher box were all in good condition.

This is more than just being dedicated.

His main concern was that Uncle Zhao might check the security footage the next day and find out that he had spent the entire night sitting in the guard booth chatting with people at the gravesite.

That's harder to explain.

The window of the security booth was slightly ajar.

The night breeze drifted in from outside, carrying a hint of the cool scent of pine and cypress trees.

Lin Ye sat at the table, with instant noodles, a small notebook, a ballpoint pen, and the stun gun in front of him.

At this time yesterday, he still felt that fate was unfair, and that he was an unlucky graduate who had been banished to a cemetery by society.

At this moment, looking at the checkmark next to "Old Qin from the South of the City" in his notebook, he suddenly felt that fate was actually quite fair.

The instant noodles are all gone.

There was still a little soup left at the bottom of the bucket.

Lin Ye initially wanted to throw it away, but after thinking about it, he picked it up and took a sip.

This isn't called being stingy.

This is called not forgetting your roots.

Of course, it's also possible that I'm used to being poor and my body hasn't adapted to the pace of having 6,800 yuan in my account.

He threw the empty bucket into the trash bag, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and turned to the second page of his notebook.

Lin Ye stared at the blank space for a few seconds, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Those two graves from last night could fill a stamp album with conversation.

If I play consistently tonight, I might be able to strike up some other conversations.

Humans are indeed highly adaptable creatures.

He heard voices coming from the grave last night, which nearly scared him to death.

Tonight, he voluntarily sat in the security booth waiting to be narrated.

The speed of this transformation was unbelievable, even to himself.

Lin Ye glanced at the clock on the wall.

12:01.

The wind outside made the pine and cypress trees rustle.

The eastern part of the district was pitch black.

He didn't go out immediately.

Last night I was caught off guard, but today I'm taking the class willingly.

Even when actively attending classes, one should be mindful of maintaining appropriate distance.

He's not powerful enough yet to sit on a small stool next to a grave.

That's called being overly dedicated.

The security booth wasn't far from the east entrance, and the windows weren't closed properly.

He wanted to test it out first to see if the sounds could only be heard when one was very close.

If you can't hear clearly, then consider heading towards the East District.

Just as he was thinking this, Old Li's familiar cursing voice suddenly came from the direction of the East District.

"You good-for-nothing! You didn't come to see me again today!"

Lin Ye paused, his hand holding the pen still.

coming.

The voice wasn't the kind of voice that comes from a distance like a normal person speaking.

It's more like being blown into your ear by the wind, clear through the darkness of night, yet incredibly clear.

Immediately afterwards, Old Zhou's slow, leisurely voice rang out.

"Your grandson just sold your stamp album a while ago, how could he possibly come to see you today?"

Old Li was so angry that his voice rose.

"What's there to be embarrassed about? He didn't seem embarrassed at all when he was selling it!"

"That's true."

Lin Ye wrote in his notebook:

Old Li, his grandson, still hasn't repented.

After writing it down, he felt that the record looked too much like a community mediation note, so he silently crossed it out.

Old Li was still cursing.

"Twelve yuan! Milk tea! Just thinking about it makes my throat feel tight!"

Old Zhou said, "You're already dead, where would you block the way?"

Old Li paused for a moment.

"What's it to you where I block myself? Can't I block myself emotionally?"

Lin Ye almost burst out laughing.

He quickly covered his mouth.

Although these dead people can't hear him, he still shouldn't laugh too obviously when eavesdropping on other people's gossip.

Just then, a strange, gruff voice suddenly broke in.

"Old Li, stop cursing every day. What family doesn't have unfilial children? My son was actually quite filial today, burning three Mercedes-Benzes, a BMW, and a paper driver for me."

Lin Ye perked up.

A new voice.

He immediately wrote in his notebook:

A loud, gruff voice; his son burned a luxury car.

Old Li sneered.

"Boss Wei, are you still not satisfied?"

He snorted in a gruff voice.

"The car is nice, but the paper effigy of the driver looks just like my ex-wife. I almost died again when I opened my eyes."

Lin Ye's pen tip wobbled, and he almost wrote "Boss Wei" as "Ex-wife Wei".

Then another slow, deliberate voice sounded from the side.

"Boss Wei, you're using the wrong words. You're already dead, you can't say 'died again'."

Boss Wei was immediately displeased.

"Principal Chen, you taught while you were alive, and now you're still nitpicking grammatical errors even after you're dead. Aren't you tired?"

Principal Chen spoke calmly.

"Language is a monument to civilization."

Boss Wei scoffed.

"Come on. Didn't your son burn you the '53' practice books last time? You spent the whole night doing those problems."

Principal Chen fell silent.

Old Zhou laughed.

"I remember that. Principal Chen was reading out multiple-choice questions in the East District that night, and the noise was so loud that I almost wanted to move his grave."

Principal Chen spoke in a calm and unhurried manner.

"That's his way of showing filial piety. I respect it."

Boss Wei said, "You can respect it as you please, but don't go around yelling about odd changing and even remaining unchanged in the middle of the night."

Lin Ye finally couldn't help but chuckle softly.

This is not a cemetery.

This is clearly an underground owners' group.

It's the kind of group where the average age of the homeowners is relatively high, but they are very active in speaking up.

He quickly wrote down a few names.

Old Li, a stamp collector, has a bad temper.

Old Zhou, snuff bottle, eccentric.

Boss Wei, he was probably a businessman, and he had a sharp tongue.

Principal Chen teaches and corrects grammatical errors.

Just as I finished writing, another old lady's voice rang out.

"You men are so fussy. You burn cars and then pick on the driver's face, but my granddaughter burned a paper villa for me today, and I didn't even have to pick on the decorations."

Boss Wei immediately responded.

"Grandma Zhao, I saw your villa. There's even a picture of a swimming pool painted at the entrance."

Grandma Zhao sounded very satisfied.

"My granddaughter is thoughtful. She knows I've never lived in a villa while I'm alive."

Old Li said sourly, "I wish my grandson had that kind of thought."

Old Zhou finished the job.

"Your grandson is thoughtful. He must have been in a good mood when he bought the milk tea for twelve yuan."

Old Li exploded again.

"Old Zhou, do you want to start a fight?"

Old Zhou said, "I'm just stating the facts."

Principal Chen immediately interrupted.

"The phrase 'seeking truth from facts' is basically accurate in this context."

Boss Wei laughed loudly.

Grandma Zhao laughed along with her.

For a time, the East District was so lively that it didn't look like a cemetery, but rather like an underground senior activity center.

Lin Ye sat in the security booth, getting more and more engrossed in the conversation.

Old Li curses his grandson, Old Zhou speaks sarcastically, Boss Wei is foul-mouthed, Principal Chen points out grammatical errors, and Old Lady Zhao sits calmly to the side watching the show.

They talked like real people.

It's just that the location where they were talking was a little unusual.

Lin Ye even felt a strange sense of familiarity.

When he was a child in his hometown, he saw his grandparents and neighbors sitting at the entrance of the alley chatting.

The conversation ranged from whose son was unfilial, to whose daughter-in-law was good at managing a household, and then to the price of pork at the market.

The content is diverse, emotionally charged, and not necessarily logically strong, but it offers a very high level of engagement.

These voices in the East District are pretty much the same now.

The only difference was that the chat location changed from the alleyway to the graveyard.

Old Li started cursing his grandson again.

Mr. Wei was upset that the paper car his son burned for him didn't have a license plate.

Principal Chen corrected the statement, saying that "burning cars" should be replaced with "burning paper sacrificial items."

Grandma Zhao said that Principal Chen must not have been popular with students when he was alive.

Principal Chen said very seriously that his students presented him with a banner when he retired.

Boss Wei asked, "What does it say on it? 'Thank you for letting us go'?"

Lin Ye laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

He picked up his pen, wanting to jot down some valuable clues.

After listening for more than ten minutes, I found that most of the content only had emotional value and no economic value.

For example, the Mercedes that Mr. Wei's son burned.

Paper.

It cannot be opened.

For example, Principal Chen's "53".

It contains a lot of knowledge, but it cannot be monetized for the time being.

For example, the paper villa made by Old Mrs. Zhao.

Location unknown, property rights questionable.

As Lin Ye listened, he became somewhat disappointed.

It seems even the dead don't talk about getting rich every day.

Most of the time, they are almost like living people.

He loves to swear, loves to compare himself to others, and loves to bring up old grievances.

However, the living are revisiting yesterday's accounts.

The dead settle a lifetime's worth of debts.

Just as he was about to close the notebook, Old Zhou suddenly spoke up.

"Speaking of which, my snuff bottle is even more wronged than Old Li's stamp album."

Lin Ye immediately sat up straight.

coming.

Old Li sneered.

"Don't give me that. At least you got two packs of cigarettes for your broken kettle. I got milk tea for my stamp album, and that's it."

Old Zhou's voice turned colder.

"What do you know? My snuff bottle isn't an ordinary thing. It's made of agate, old material, and it even has some interesting color variations inside."

Boss Wei became interested.

"How much is it worth?"

Old Zhou paused.

"When I was alive, someone offered me 20,000, but I didn't sell."

Lin Ye's pen stopped.

Twenty thousand! Twenty thousand!

Boss Wei clicked his tongue.

"Your son switching to two packs of cigarettes is quite an achievement."

Grandma Zhao asked, "What kind of cigarettes?"

Old Zhou gritted his teeth.

"Hongtashan".

Grandma Zhao paused for a moment.

"That kid is pretty daring to make a change."

Principal Chen analyzed the situation carefully.

"From the perspective of exchange value, this behavior clearly lacks basic judgment."

Boss Wei said, "Old Chen, just say he's a spendthrift."

Old Li finally found an ally and immediately joined the effort.

"He's such a spendthrift! Even more spendthrift than my grandson!"

Old Zhou sneered.

"Your grandson's twelve yuan, my son's two packs of cigarettes. Let's not laugh at each other."

Lin Ye lowered his head and quickly took notes.

snuff bottle.

agate.

Clever use of color.

Nanqiao Secondhand Market.

The fat boss.

Two Red Pagoda Mountains.

As he wrote this, he suddenly realized that he was missing a crucial piece of information.

Which stall specifically?

Last night, Lao Zhou only mentioned Nanqiao Secondhand Market, the fat boss, and the small-eyed man.

The secondhand market is so big, we can't keep searching for Uncle Qin all over town like we did today.

Lin Ye held his breath and continued listening.

As expected, Boss Wei asked the question on his behalf.

"With so many stalls in Nanqiao Secondhand Market, who did your son sell his goods to?"

Old Zhou's voice was laced with suppressed anger.

"Go in from the west entrance, third row, near the toilets. That fat boss has eyes as small as melon seeds, and he wears a string of fake amber around his neck. He always claims to be honest and fair to everyone, but he only rips off people who don't know anything about the business."

Lin Ye's eyes lit up.

This amount of information is much better than what Old Qin from the south of the city has.

Enter from the west entrance, third row.

It's near the toilet.

The fat boss.

Melon seed eyes.

Fake amber.

The young man is not deceived.

He memorized it all in one go.

Boss Wei was still smiling.

"Your son traded a snuff bottle for two cartons of cigarettes?"

Old Zhou snorted coldly.

"more than."

Lin Ye's pen stopped again.

more than?

Old Li asked, "What else was changed?"

Old Zhou's voice was almost squeezed out from between his teeth.

"The fat boss even gave him an extra lighter."

The East District fell silent for a moment.

Immediately, Boss Wei burst into laughter.

"Old Zhou, your son's got some nerve! Two packs of cigarettes and a lighter, and he's gone with your 20,000 yuan snuff bottle."

Grandma Zhao smiled too.

Principal Chen sighed.

"In economics, this constitutes a serious information asymmetry."

Old Li said quietly, "In our family, this is called a grandson."

Lin Ye looked down at the notes in his notebook, his heart starting to race.

He had assumed that tonight he would most likely only hear old men and women arguing.

Unexpectedly, the second clue came so quickly.

Moreover, it's clearer than a stamp album.

Yesterday he made 6,800 yuan from Lao Li's stamp album.

If someone really offered 20,000 for Lao Zhou's snuff bottle.

Even with a discount, it shouldn't be too bad.

Lin Ye looked up at the window.

The East District was still dark and gloomy.

The tombstones stood one after another, silent as if nothing had happened.

But in Lin Ye's ears, that place was no longer just a cemetery.

It was like a dark, dimly lit conference room.

Inside sat a group of elderly men and women who couldn't stay still even after they died.

They scold their descendants, dredge up old grievances, quarrel, and compare themselves to others.

Occasionally, a golden bean falls out from the pile of nonsense.

Lin Ye lowered his head and drew a circle behind the "snuff bottle".

Then he checked the time on his phone.

12:40 a.m.

There's still some time before the three-point patrol.

I'm going to Nanqiao Secondhand Market tomorrow.

It's best to take a nap tonight.

After all, making money also requires physical strength.

He closed his notebook and was about to put down his pen when he heard Old Zhou curse again.

"I hope I never run into that fat boss again. If I could get out of here right now, I would have overturned his stall."

Boss Wei laughed and said, "What can you lift now? A coffin lid?"

Principal Chen immediately corrected him.

"Old Zhou was cremated and then buried, so strictly speaking, it didn't involve a coffin."

Old Zhou was furious.

"Old Chen, can you shut up?"

Lin Ye silently capped the pen.

The Qingshan Cemetery was quite lively at night.