murdered." She said with a hint of irony, her voice soft as she recounted what had happened here.The ancestors of this village migrated continuously from the Central Plains a thousand years ago. After...me.As I got closer, I could see it was a white crane-patterned paper umbrella.The person holding an umbrella wore a deep-colored robe, their figure flickering like a ghost.As I got closer, his piercin...
Do we meet again? Or part ways?