Most of the ghosts in this world don't dare to walk on the main road - they hide on the beams of the ancestral house, in the reflection of the dry well, or in the mass graves you must have passed by after school when you were a child. In my story, there are no ghosts in suits and leather shoes, only the old lady in shrouds lights up lamps at midnight and "calls out the souls" for the whole village; there are no ghosts entangled in love, there are only the women who are drowned in the pond, making the fish in the pond turn white on their death anniversary; there are no ghosts with scary special effects, there are only blind storytellers who pluck the three strings and sing out the sins of their ancestors in a local accent. What I write about are ghosts, but what I see are people - the forgotten rules, buried grievances, and despised good and evil are all resurrected in this land. If you are brave enough, just open this book "Rural Ghost Stories" and listen to this story. You will find that the human heart is much scarier than ghosts.
Respect ghosts and gods and stay away from them
I quite like it. It looks good.