Three and Seven

The edge of the night, like a slowly spreading ink stain, completely engulfed the small town. The streets were deserted, and the ten strokes of the bell tower still vibrated in the air, like an elegy with a long tail, lingering lingering sounds. . . Lin Chuan held an old lantern, his fingers tightened on the iron ring, and a thin layer of sweat broke out on his palms. This isn't his first time here. But every time he passed by, he only dared to take a look at it from a distance - the abandoned hotel was like a scar, stuck to the heart of the town, and no one wanted to touch it. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.