When the cicadas chirp in the summer night and there are footsteps enjoying the coolness on the bluestone floor, don't be in a hurry to get close to the flickering cigarette pot.
There are no fairy tales here, only the strange stories told by the old people in the deep alleys that have been polished by time and oozing with cold air——
Why do red embroidered shoes always knock on the empty house at midnight? Whose face reflected deep in the ancient well belongs to? What are the whispers under the locust tree asking for? What kind of curse is hidden in the shadow that flashes in the bronze mirror?
When you open this book, what you hear is not a story, but those "things" forgotten in the shadows, which are slowly crawling back to the world through the mouth of an old man. Be careful, the next legend they target may be you.
