In a small village at the junction of Henan and Shandong in Hebei Province, the houses are dilapidated, with about 100 families. As soon as the sun sets, night comes, the whole village falls silent, and every household closes its doors and locks them, lights up the dim oil lamps, and closes the doors.
It's July, the peak of the summer, and the evening is surprisingly quiet, with only a few gusts of wind blowing willow leaves.
Overnight, that's it.
Huang Asheng was a young man in this village, who heard people walking around on the street, got up from bed, picked up a hoe, and prepared to work in the field.
It was dark and full of paper money.
Wang Da Niang at the east end of the village suddenly fell seriously ill and fell into a coma a few days ago, tried a variety of medicines without effect, only sat on the bed and talked nonsense, and several children and grandchildren stood by, wiping the saliva from the corners of Wang Da Niang's mouth with a towel from time to time.
This lasted for a few days, and Wang Da Niang did not enter the rice drops. Before the gray hair was completely white, the eyes were closed.
Today, the people are carrying Lady Wang.
There was only screaming, walking, but no crying. The team of dozens of people was dressed in white, looked acquiescing, and slowly walked toward the north of the village.
A river bends from south to north in the north of the village, and a gray and black grave at the backwater bay is interspersed with several new graves with yellow soil.
Huang Asheng was shocked to hear this, and would go to his own field to work. The sunrise does not speak.
Night is approaching.
Every house closes its doors and locks them, turns off the lights and goes to sleep.
At night, the wind outside the house was loud, the footsteps came and went, and the low roar became stronger and stronger.
Huang Asheng pulled the quilt and covered his head.
Eyes on the horizon.
-----------
What's going on in the village, and listen to it.