My name is Wang Sheng, a down-and-out young man who sells used goods in Panjiayuan.
Before he died, my grandfather gave me a bloody gold-touching charm and half a broken notebook, and forced me to swear to never touch the ancestral craftsmanship.
But being a debt collector forced me into a desperate situation, and I somehow managed to pry open the old house in the backyard that my grandfather never allowed anyone to approach.
There were no bones in the rotting coffin, only a line of last words written in blood: "They are not dead... They are all down there... Don't believe anyone..."
That night, strange bloody handprints crawled all over my window, and my notes automatically turned to a certain page without wind.
Above is a portrait of my grandfather that I have never seen before, with a line of small words written next to it:
"Find the real tomb, or you will be next."
