One bitter winter's day, as heavy snow blanketed the land, Xiaojin caught a cold. He and the Death God lived in a humble thatched cottage. It was tolerable during the summer, but in winter the icy wind slipped through every gap in the layers of straw, chilling the entire house.
Ajiu draped his black fur cloak over Xiaojin, yet he continued to shiver uncontrollably. Ajiu sighed. If only Shun'er were still here, he thought. She was thoughtful and always knew how to care for others.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a knock sounded at the door. When Ajiu opened it, he found a ragged beggar standing outside, trembling from the cold and asking for shelter for the night. Ajiu quickly invited him inside to warm himself by the fire.
Only the dead, the gods, and beings from other realms could see the Death God's cottage.
He must be a newly departed soul, Ajiu thought.
Only souls who had died recently still felt the cold, for although a person's spirit left the body at death, the body itself did not become completely dead until three days later.
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