Greedy and angry? Horrible? Or delusion? In a corner of the south of the city, there is a wine shop, surrounded by bamboos and peaches, with a grass-covered roof. It is closed during the day and open at night, with an endless stream of strangers coming and going. They cried miserably and shouted different names every day; their faces were twisted, and the same resentment burst out from their eyes; they dragged their mutilated bodies around the bamboo gates and bridge corridors, hating and thinking. They are people of the next world and ghosts of this world. I have heard so many stories, they are so old. The wine shop in the south of the city opens its doors to welcome ghost guests.
Ps: The author is slow, has strange ideas, loves tragedy, and the setting in the article is not to supplement the romance, well, that's it.