The Prison of Fantasy
by Wang Ke
About This Novel
The Qingzhou Ancient Road has undergone hundreds of years of vicissitudes, and the roadside is covered with dead leaves. A cold wind blew, and the leaves drifted to the depths of the black ancient road. Gradually, a donkey cart came from the depths. The donkey was so thin that it was only skin and bones, with its head drooped and lifeless. The donkey cart was slow, and a man was following behind the cart. His long hair blocked half of his face, but you could still see a ferocious green tire mark from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. There was a long, strange-shaped bundle on his back. Every time the man took a step, the bundle would bump slightly, as if it had become a part of the man. The cold wind came with dead leaves and blew open the curtain of the donkey cart. The face of a woman in her thirties was revealed behind the curtain, with a haggard expression. Beside her was a four-foot red coffin. There was a slight chill in the Red Hall, and the woman couldn't help but tremble, but she still gritted her teeth and persisted.
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