Xiaolan hid behind a tall pile of coal, using the black color of the coal as his protective color.
Because it's almost dawn.
This is the safest place before the next dark night comes.
This place is directly behind the ancestral hall, only a short distance away from the ancestral hall, but Xiaolan is not worried about anyone coming, because although it is only a short distance, Xiaolan climbed in the coal mountain for a long time before finding this place.
This is a position that is easy to defend but difficult to attack. As long as Xiaolan hears the slightest movement, he can run deeper into the woods. Once he enters the mountain, he will be harder to catch.
After confirming the geographical advantage, Xiaolan lay down behind the coal pile with peace of mind and looked quietly at the back edge of the ancestral hall.
When the purple-white color on the horizon slightly emerged, there seemed to be some commotion on the road in front of the ancestral hall.
Xiaolan could only tell that it was two women having a heated conversation. She couldn't hear the content of the conversation clearly. The two said a few words, and then they called out loudly.
This time Xiaolan heard clearly.
"Er Mao!...Er Mao!..."
The two called out the name together, and as the call gradually faded away, the surroundings returned to calm.
Xiaolan looked forward from behind the coal pile. From here she could see the back side of the ancestral hall and a section of the road through the gaps in the woods. When she looked out, two women happened to pass by there.
Xiaolan saw their figures running in a hurry.
what happens?
Who are they looking for?
First of all, exclude yourself. After all, I am not called Ermao.
Xiaolan unconsciously thought of that boy.
The name Ermao fits well with the skinny monkey-like image.
Hasn't he come home yet?
Xiaolan shrank back and sat back on the coal pile.
Where did that kid go?
Could it be that he is still in the ancestral hall?
But I watched him run away at that time, although... I didn't see exactly where he ran away.
When she woke up in the morning, Xiaolan heard the same woman's voice again.
The woman still called Er Mao's name and ran back from the road, her voice sounding more urgent.
Xiaolan became anxious upon hearing this.
After about an hour, the village slowly woke up.
Various sounds rang out one after another, and mixed in among them was the desperate cry of a woman.
The whole village seemed to be mobilized, and by noon, "Er Mao"'s name was already floating over the village, shouted out alternately by various voices.
Xiaolan pulled her hair.
If Er Mao is really that boy, oh my god, then wouldn’t I be the last person to see him?
In the afternoon, the call became weaker, and by evening it was almost inaudible.
Have you found it?
Xiaolan stretched out her muscles. Throughout the whole day, she hid here counting coals and listening to the goings on in the village. She didn't know whether Ermao had been found, but her legs were definitely numb.
"Oh my god..."
Xiaolan bent over and rubbed her legs, doing warm-up exercises. Night was coming again, and her activity time was almost up.
The lights in the village went out, and the surrounding area fell into silence. Xiaolan got out from behind the coal pile, climbed over the coal mountain, and returned to the back of the ancestral hall.
She originally planned to go around the path on the right side of the ancestral hall, but when she reached the big altar, she stopped.
The big altar is the corpse cremator in Lianshui Village.
This thing is also related to the prophet.
Xiaolan decided to go in and check again. When she walked to the door, she realized something was wrong.
The door to the high altar was ajar.
The hook on the door does not snap into the iron ring on the other side, but hangs down next to the handle.
He obviously closed it when he left.
Xiaolan stood frozen in place for several seconds.
I have been staring behind the coal pile, but no one has been here.
"Meow..."
A thin cat meow sounded from the ajar iron door.
Is it a cat?
But...can a cat open this door?
"Meow... meow..."
Xiaolan stretched out her hand and slowly opened the low iron door.
A flash of dazzling bright orange entered Xiaolan's sight.
The civet cat was sitting on the ground obediently with its back to Xiaolan. When it heard the movement behind it, the cat did not panic. Instead, it slowly turned its head, looked at Xiaolan, and barked again.
"Meow..."
"Huh...how did you get in?" Xiaolan breathed a sigh of relief and bent down to hug the cat, "You are very capable..."
The civet cat did not dodge or struggle, letting Xiaolan pick it up.
The cat left the ground, and something appeared in its original position.
At first, Xiaolan didn't understand what it was.
Later, along with the faint meowing of a cat, goosebumps all over Xiaolan's body stood up.
That's a foot.
A bare foot glowed a chilling bone-white color in the moonlight.
Xiaolan looked up along the foot.
Never, never, never, never...
Xiaolan suddenly held her breath.
The boy leaned motionless against the black-gray inner wall of the high altar, his round black eyes widened, his purple-red tongue dragging long on his chin, his pupils dilated, his complexion pale, and he had long lost any of his popularity.
Xiaolan felt her stomach churn, and the bone-chilling coldness made her tremble.
"Meow..."
The civet cat jumped away from her and brought Xiaolan back to reality.
He is dead.
Xiaolan pressed her abdomen, squatted down, and got close to the boy's body.
The boy exuded the hot flash of a newly deceased person, and Xiaolan still remembered Qin Yin calling it "the smell of the soul."
Xiaolan reached out and probed under the boy's nose, then stretched out her hand to hold his neck.
He is dead.
and……
Xiaolan took her hand away, and the purple-black stain on the boy's neck was clearly visible. They were five finger prints deeply engraved on the boy's skin. The boy had been strangled to death.
Xiaolan knew that her expression at this time must be ugly.
The boy's arms were hanging at his side, and his hands were curled up like chicken claws. Xiaolan reached out and touched him, and his tightly clenched hands loosened.
The boy's palms were full of bruises that he had picked out himself. Xiaolan looked at those bruises, but what she thought in her heart was that these bruises would never heal, just like the boy's long tongue would never heal.
It's like the Dharma has been taken back.
Xiaolan raised the boy's little hand. There was still a trace of blood in the boy's nails. He must have experienced a fierce struggle before he died.
The murderer should also have left traces on his body, if...
Xiaolan was stunned.
She saw her hands.
There were several blood-red scratch marks on the back of her hand.
Xiaolan quickly touched the red streaks.
It's definitely a scratch.
That's not right.
When did these scratches appear on your hands?
I had never noticed it before, but...
Xiaolan trembled and put down the boy's hand.
She looked at the five finger prints.
Then, she used her hand to compare it.
His own hand covered the fingerprints perfectly, not a bit too much, not a bit too little.