"Watch yourself in the mirror, it's licking the patina from your bones"
Deep in the rainy night alley, a college student bought a bronze mask with a gluttonous pattern for half a month's living expenses.
The shop owner only gave a warning: "If you put it on, you can't take it off."
When the mask melted into his cheek like a living thing,
The memory of Du Shikang, the butcher of the Republic of China, began to scream in his veins——
> The sharp sound of bone needles scratching the skull, the naked female body soaked in medicinal liquid in a pottery vat,
> Under the Skinning Knife, Kun Opera mixed with the wailing symphony of death...
The "Silence" in the mirror smiles more and more like the man wearing a long coat in the old photo:
"Nine human skins make a living puppet, and you are the last piece of the puzzle."
The deeper fear comes from the imprint from three thousand years ago:
The Taotie pattern on the beating heart, the word "Wan" crawling out of vomit,
The blood splattered on the mask when the mother escaped by caesarean section...
At this moment, he held the knife and walked towards the female classmate under the moonlight.
A bronze wire was drilled out of the broken part of the left little finger.
The back of my tongue tasted the same sweet taste of blood as on my own face.
When the butcher hums in your head a dream about the garden,
How can you prove that the hand holding the knife does not belong to you?
