Urban+Folklore+Micro Fear+Physical Skills+Fei Shuangwen
The bronze mirror was broken, and his life hung in the balance for seven days.
Ink and wash can't trap monsters, and machines can't satisfy people's hearts.
When senior sister Chen Wen hung her body in a blood-red wedding dress in the studio, and Lin Yan touched the glass coffin at the memorial service, a fragment of a bronze mirror stamped with "the seventh day of the seventh lunar month in the year Guimao" fell into his palm.
The bloody handprints knocked on the window lattice at night, the soul-sealing ink appeared on the throat of the deceased, the old woman in the mass grave sold death contracts - all the evidence pointed to one conclusion: her body was crawling back from the morgue to seek life.
