With Yin and Yang Eyes, I Can See Your Death

Before he died, my grandfather gave me three torn volumes of Taoist scriptures and said: Don't go back to your hometown before June 15th. I didn't listen. On the day I went back, one second before the coffin lid closed, I saw my grandfather smiling. Then the bell rang by itself, the candle went out at the same time, and there was a mark on my palm. From that day on, I inherited my grandfather's Maoshan Taoism—and also inherited his unfinished things. There is a wandering ghost lying on the ceiling of the campus, the lights in the operating room of the abandoned hospital have not been extinguished for thirty years, and the door under the Aoki Town ancestral hall is cracking. I could see gray smoke above everyone's heads. You can also see how long they can live.