You Can't Put Your Eyes on the Paper Man

There are three iron rules in the papermaking profession: Not eye-catching. I clicked and the stuff went in. Don't draw hearts. After painting, things will have meaning. Don't burn the real name. Once it's burned, things will come to your door. My grandfather guarded it all his life and only broke one. He ordered two paper figures. Before he died, he held my hand and said: Those two are locked in the cellar in the backyard. Don't open the door. If they come out on their own, don't look back, just run. I didn't listen. On the first seven nights, the paper man moved. They're looking at me. After further investigation, I found out that during the "paper disaster" thirty years ago, my grandfather ordered seven. Six of them left, and the remaining one was named Zhi'er, who was locked in the cellar for thirty years. Now she's out. She said those six went to the village and lived there for thirty years. She said about everyone you know, Grandma Wang, Uncle Li, Aunt Zhang at the entrance of the village, how many of them do you think are true? She also said... Xiaoyuan, the deal your grandfather made back then has now expired.