Xiao Weiwei woke up from the pain and found that he was tied to a wooden stake. The rain dripped down her forehead, mixed with blood, and flowed into her eyes, stinging her so much that she couldn't open them. Surrounded by densely packed figures with totems painted on their faces, torches hissed in the rain, like snakes being strangled by their necks. She doesn't know how she got here, she doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know who she is. My mind went blank, except for a vague sound that sounded like it was coming from a far, far away place - run.
She was chosen as a sacrifice to the rain god. Wu Zhu stood in front of her, holding a torch in his hand and chanting incomprehensible spells. The dry firewood was piled at her feet, wet from the rain. The torch was put up, lit for a moment, then extinguished, lit again, and extinguished again. The crowd became commotion, some said that the Rain God was displeased, and some said that another sacrifice should be offered. Wu Zhu's face flickered in the firelight, like a mask made of mud that was not yet dry and whose facial features could collapse at any time. He roared, and the crowd fell silent. The torch was brought to the dry wood again.
