During the Ghost Festival that year, my grandma repeatedly told me not to go out after dark. The chubby neighbor laughed at me for being timid and forced me to go out to play football at night. The moment the broken ball rolled into the graveyard ravine, a pale hand suddenly stretched out from the soil and grabbed the ball. The next day, Little Fatty had a high fever and kept shouting: "Didn't I say we wanted to play together?" And late at night, the familiar sound of batting a ball came from my window...
