When I picked up Bai Mu, it was raining. He was wearing white clothes and sitting in the mud. His face was expressionless. He dug the soil seriously with his fingers until his fingers were dripping with blood and his flesh was bloody. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was digging a grave. I asked whose grave he was digging. He said digging his own grave. I said, are you still dead? He didn't answer me, he just looked at me. At that time, I knew that this person's heart was dead and all that was left was a walking corpse.
Concept: a story.