>During the Republic of China, seven people in Liuxi Village died violently one after another.
>Each corpse is in a kneeling position, facing an abandoned ancient tomb in the back mountain.
>As a doctor studying abroad, I firmly believe that this is caused by the plague.
>The villagers whispered behind my back: "Aunt Chu is going to listen to the show again."
>When the seventh corpse appeared, I found fragments of theater tickets between my fingernails.
>The mason guarding the tomb warned me: "Don't light the lamp, don't make any noise, and run away when you hear the sound of combing your hair."
>That night, drama came from the ancient tomb, and the oil lamp in my room went out for no reason.
>Outside the window, seven kneeling corpses were lined up neatly, clapping their hands stiffly.
>The drama gradually gets closer: "... Now that I have met a gentleman, Hu Yun is not happy?"
>My body opened the door uncontrollably and walked towards the back mountain.
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The rain weaves a cold gray net over Liuxi Village. The sky has already sunk into the color of ink, so thick that you can almost squeeze out water. I stepped into the mud with one foot and one foot shallow. The mud under my feet greedily sucked the soles of my shoes, making a tooth-wrenching "puff" sound. Mud water splashed on his trouser legs, and the cold wetness penetrated to his bones. Another patient has disappeared, just tonight, quietly. This is already the seventh one.
