Yingge Dance

I stood before the old house, gazing up at the mottled red-lacquered wooden door, a thin layer of dust settling on the door knocker. Ten years had passed; I had finally returned to this small Chaoshan town. A gust of cold wind swept past, and I instinctively pulled my coat tighter. September shouldn't be this cold, but ever since entering the town, I'd felt a chill on the back of my neck, as if something was watching me from the shadows. Pushing open the creaking wooden door, the old locust tree in the courtyard still stood tall, but a strange black vine was coiled among its branches, slowly writhing like veins. I rubbed my eyes; the vine returned to normal, probably because...