My Coffin Wife

Dragged from the river with no memory of who I am, I'm given a new name by Wei Shu, the coffin shop owner who saved me: An Xin—'Peace of Mind.' But peace is the last thing his shop offers. Every coffin he sells brings midnight horrors: weeping paper dolls, burial shrouds that move like living things, and empty coffins that thunder in the dark. When a cypress coffin meant for a headless corpse splits open one night, I act on instinct—chanting words I don't remember learning, tracing symbols that burn my fingertips, driving back the shrieking black mist. Wei Shu's eyes bore into me: 'Who are you…