We'd visited Chen Xiaoqiu once when she was discharged from the hospital. Fatty was still the one driving.
I vaguely remembered Chen Xiaoqiu's home address, but this time I turned to the Thin Man.
The Thin Man thought for a moment, then took the waybill from me. "It was Building Seven in Ningxi Gardens, right? Room 703, I think. Phone number, phone number..."
When I saw that the address the Thin Man had written matched what I remembered, I left the matter to him.
I asked the female ghost, "How long will this take to deliver?"
Two black holes nearly blotted out the sky. The houses around them had been entirely swept away. We couldn't hold out here much longer.
"As soon as someone signs for it, we can leave the very next second," the female ghost said.
"Who delivers the package?" I asked again.
"No one. It's something like a puppet. It takes on a form and brings the package to the door. It's just a puppet, with very limited intelligence," she replied.
Her ability was far more complicated than I'd imagined. But from the sound of it, it also seemed pretty useless.
Maybe my expression had given away how I felt, because the female ghost guessed what I was thinking.
"I'm not like the ghosts here. I don't have any special obsession or mission, and I don't need to kill anyone. You can think of me as an ordinary courier. I'm only responsible for delivering packages." She spread her hands. "People using my service is a good thing for me. I don't even need to earn the kind of money the living use."
She only needed people to use her service?
I was deeply skeptical.
The waybill she'd given me—and the one we'd found in the trash—was from