She waited for one hundred and seventy years, wearing a red wedding dress and sitting on the roof of the City God's Temple, facing the north. She was waiting for the second half of the sentence.
She was imprisoned in a yizhuang and beaten to death with sticks because she was sick. There is a letter among her belongings: "Xiuying, your parents will come to pick you up in a few days."
She died with half a steamed bun in her hand. She was four years old and died of starvation in a ruined temple. Her father came to identify the body, took one look at it and said, "This is not my son."
She was abducted from the mountains of Hunan, imprisoned for eight years, gave birth to two children, had her skull smashed with a hammer, and was thrown into a dry well. Her name is Lin Xiaohe. Shen Yanzhou carried her ashes and walked eight hundred miles to send her home.
He is a liar. He examined their autopsies, redressed their grievances, and said the last word for them. His assistant is a female ghost, his navigation is a mobile phone with a broken screen, and his weapon is a scalpel.
He walked through the mountains of Yongzhou, under the locust trees in Tanzhou, Yizhuang in Ezhou, the Temple of the City God in Xinyang Prefecture, and the basements of the capital. He sent home one hundred and eighty-four of the dead. He remembered every name.
There is a ghost in this story, but the ghost is more reasonable than humans. There are tears in this story, but tears are warmer than laughter. There is cabbage in this story, the cheapest cabbage, and the stewed tofu is especially delicious.
