The red rope on my wrist contains the bones of my ancestors
Grandma said this is the mark of a substitute
When I was twenty years old, I was forced to return to my old house. The white wedding dress in the camphor wood box oozed dark red blood. The white gauze embroidered with lotus flowers came out from under the bed board. There was also the shadow in white clothes who always combed his hair on rainy nights.
She is waiting for me to put on the wedding dress and complete the unfinished ghost marriage for her.
When the red rope is hot, the bones inside bite the fabric, as if to remind me
Can't escape
The story is purely fictitious, please do not imitate it.
