In a deserted village late at night, with a lone lamp, I am a storyteller who only talks about old stories from the Chinese Studio.
Someone asked, are there really ghosts in the world? I talked about "Painted Skin", and the next day the money-grubbing shopkeeper Wang in the town had his face peeling off; when I talked about "Nie Xiaoqian", I realized that Ning Caichen was not a love-struck man, but a hypocrite who clung to the powerful.
In this world, ghosts wear human skin to cause trouble, and people hide their evil hearts and do evil. Among those stories about strange things that have been circulating for hundreds of years, the most frightening thing is never the monsters, but the sanctimonious human heart.
It's late at night, listen - the footsteps outside the window, are they people or ghosts?
