This is a story about an ancient rural legend, passed down from generation to generation. I only know a little of it from my grandmother, and never heard the whole story. It tells of a mountain hag who eats people. As a child, I believed it was true. In that rural village, where science had yet to reach, superstition became people’s spiritual refuge. When they fell ill, they didn’t go to a doctor first. They prayed to the gods, consulted fortune-tellers, and burned incense before Buddha. They would wait out a minor illness, while with a serious one, all they could do was leave it to fate. I hope this novel can lift the veil on some things that once seemed mysterious and bring us back to an age of science. The characters in this story experience death and the absurd, but never science, advanced culture, or modern productivity.
Ups and downs, clear thinking. The villagers are pedantic and stand out from the times. The characters are distinct and appear to be distinct from each other.