The musty smell of the old house is stronger than in memory.
The white cloth of the mourning hall fluttered in the draft, as if something was hiding and breathing behind the curtain.
The incense on the offering table must not be extinguished, the deceased's face must not face north, and he must not look in the mirror after midnight - these rules were never mentioned by my grandfather when he was alive.
The moment Shen Congli's fingertips touched the family tree, he felt dizzy and his ears were filled with clammy whispers.
Since then, his fingernails have turned gray and his wrists have developed gill-like lines.
He knew he shouldn't investigate any further, but every time he closed his eyes, he could see the eyes staring at him from the bottom of the well.
Grandpa is not dead, he was "taken away". And he is the last person alive in the Shen family.
