My father died in bed last night. According to the servant, when he came to serve him in the morning, he found that the door was ajar, but my father never had the habit of opening the door while sleeping. He lay stretched out on the bed, his fingers bent, the blood on the corners of his mouth had solidified, his mouth made a shouting gesture, revealing a few sparse yellow teeth, and his eyes were wide open, as if he had seen something extremely terrifying before he died.
