On the fourteenth day of the seventh lunar month, half the sky is dyed red with blood, and at the time of Unity, hundreds of ghosts travel.
She sat on the edge of the rooftop, feeling the dry hot wind pass through her body, giving her a hint of coolness. This was her tenth year of work.
There is a peerless beauty in the Hall of Yama. She is not Xiaojiabiyu, not charming, not gentle and pleasant.
Intention: My dear, there is no sunshine in the underworld.