In the wine cellar of the Mei family.

There she was, engulfed in darkness, buried, hidden and imprisoned. Anyone who had seen her laugh and dance in the bright sun in the past would shudder to see her miserable situation now.

The cold of the night, the cold of death, the breeze in her hair, the sound in her ears, the bright gaze in her eyes, her body bent in two, she could not help but drag the heavy shackles, curled up on a little straw, with a jug and a loaf of bread by her side, and below her body was a pool of water oozing from the cell, she did not move, she could hardly breathe, and she could not even feel the pain.

The sunshine, the noon, the wilderness, the singing skills that won a lot of applause, the lingering romance and love with the men in the audience, all these kept coming to her mind, still vividly, suddenly like a happy golden phantom, and suddenly like a strange terrible nightmare. Yet all this is nothing more than a terrible and insignificant struggle, gradually dissipating in the darkness, or else it is only a distant piece of music, played in the air of the earth, the sound of which can no longer be heard in this miserable abyss.

Ever since I was imprisoned here, I didn't care about waking up or sleeping. In this catastrophe, in this dungeon, it is no longer possible to distinguish between wakefulness and sleep, between dream and reality, just as it is impossible to distinguish between night and day. In her mind, everything was mixed, fragmented, erratic, and chaotic. She can no longer perceive, she can no longer think, at most she can only think about what is wrong. There has never been a living person so mired in nothingness as she is.

She was numb, her limbs cold and fossilized, barely noticing the occasional sound of a trapdoor. The trapdoor was somewhere above her head, and it had been open for two or three days, but it didn't shine even a little light, and each time a hand threw her a hard steamed bun from there.

The only thing she could hear unconsciously, was the sound of droplets of water dripping evenly from the moss-covered stone slabs in the vault. She listened blankly to the sound of droplets falling into puddles beside her. The water dropped, and it was the only movement around her, the only clock that marked the time, the only sound in her ears of all the sounds on the ground.

In short, she also felt from time to time that something cold was crawling on her feet or arms in this dark mud puddle, and she shivered with fright.

How long she's been here, she doesn't know. When she woke up, she was surrounded by darkness, dead silence, and coldness. She crawled on the ground with her hands, the chains of her shackles slicing through her ankles, and the chains rattling. She recognized the thick walls all around her, the water-soaked slabs beneath her, and a handful of straw. But there were no lights, no ventilation holes. So she sat down on the straw, and sometimes to change her position, she sat on the lowest level of the cell. For a moment, she tried to count the minutes and seconds in the dark by the number of water droplets, but a sick brain. Soon she stopped the miserable work of her own accord, and she was stunned again.

At last one day, or one night, because midnight and noon were the same color in the tomb, she heard a noise overhead, louder than the usual opening of the door when the guards brought her steamed buns and jugs, and when she looked up, she saw a ray of light that seemed to be red, not red, shining through the crack in the door in the vault of the prison, or rather, the flap flap door. At the same time, the heavy iron door cracked, the rusty hinges made a screeching sound, and the flaps of the flaps of the flaps turned. She immediately saw a lantern, a hand.

the lower half of a man's body; The door was too low for her to see their heads. The light stung her eyes, and she closed them.

When she opened her eyes again, the trapdoor was closed, the lamp was placed on the stone steps, and a man stood alone in front of her, his black clothes dragging all the way to his feet, and his black hat covering his face. I couldn't see his whole body at all, and I couldn't see his face. It was a long black shroud standing upright, and something could be felt shaking inside the cloth.

She stared intently at the ghost for a moment. During this time, neither of them said a word. There seemed to be only two things alive in this dungeon: the wick that crackled with the humidity of the air, and the droplets of water that fell from the roof of the dungeon. The monotonous gurgling sound of water droplets interrupted the irregular crackling sound of the lamp; As soon as the water droplets fell, the light reflected on the surface of the puddle swayed.

At the end, the female prisoner finally broke the silence: "Who are you?" ”

"What do you say?"

This answer, this tone, this voice, made her tremble when she heard it.

The man's voice was hoarse, but his words were clear, and he said, "Are you ready?" ”

"Ready for what?"

"Die."

"Ahh She said, "Right away?" ”

"Tomorrow."

She raised her head with joy, but suddenly drooped to her chest again, and muttered, "It's going to take so long!" Why not just today? ”

"So, you're in unbearable pain?" The man was silent for a moment, then asked again.

"I'm cold." She replied.

She then clasped her feet with both hands, a movement that the unfortunate often does, and at the same time, her teeth shivered.

She said in a panic, "The day belongs to everyone, but give me the night, why is that?" ”

"Why are you here, you know?" The man was silent for a moment and asked.

"I think I knew." She stretched out her thin fingers and wiped her brow, as if to help her own memory. "But I don't know now."

Suddenly she began to cry like a child: "I want to go out, I'm cold, I'm afraid, and some worm will crawl on me." ”

"Alright, come with me."

The priest said as he grabbed her arm. The bitter woman was already cold to the marrow, but she felt that this hand was even colder.

"Ahem! This is the cold hand of Lord Yama. She muttered to herself.

The man lifted his hood. This ghost has been the bane of her suffering, pushing her from one disaster to another, and even being tortured. The appearance of this ghost woke her up from her numbness. She suddenly felt as if the thick curtain that had covered her memory was suddenly torn apart.

Half of the memories of her misery had been forgotten and had been almost wiped out by the excessive pain, and now she saw this gloomy figure in front of her. These memories were suddenly resurrected, as if the invisible handwriting written in steganography ink on white paper was clearly revealed when it was baked by fire. She felt as if all the wounds in her heart had cracked again, and blood was flowing straight down.

"Oops!" She cried out, her hands covering her eyes, her body convulsing and trembling. As soon as he finished speaking, he hung his arms in frustration, sat down with his ass paralyzed, his head drooping, his eyes staring at the ground, still trembling.

The man looked at her, his gaze like that of an eagle hovering high in the sky, and it clung around a poor lark hiding in a wheat field, quietly shrinking its terrible circle, and suddenly swooped down on its prey like lightning, and grabbed the wheezing lark with its claws.

She whispered, "Finish me off!" Finish me off! Hurry up and give the final blow! ”

She was terrified, her head tucked between her shoulders, like a lamb waiting for a butcher's fatal blow.

Her lips twitched in pain, and she looked like she was smiling. "It's the executioner holding the death row prisoner happy"

At this, she whimpered and cried, looked up at the man, and said, "Huh! What have I done to offend you, and you hate me to the core? ”

"I love you!" The man shouted.

Her tears stopped, her eyes were demented, and she glanced at him. He knelt down, his eyes fiery as he fixed his eyes on her.

"Did you hear that? I love you! He shouted again.

"What kind of love?" The unfortunate woman fought a cold war.

He then said, "The love of a man who has gone to hell." ”

For a while, both of them were silent, both crushed by their respective passions, he was losing his mind, she was insensitive.

Listen," the man finally said, and he regained his unusual composure. "Before I met you, I was very happy......

"Why am I!" She sighed softly.

"Don't interrupt me until one day ......"

At this, the man suddenly paused. The female prisoner heard a sound coming from his chest, like a dying gasp, like a heart-rending pain.

The scene that made him angry again came to the man's mind, and he was there when she generously offered her precious gesture to a pathetic and stupid braggart king, jealous and furious! Witness the body that burns, the dove that is so tender and delicate, the flesh that trembles and flushes under the kiss of another!

The man rolled into the puddle on the stone slab on the ground, his head hitting the corner of the steps again and again. The woman listened and watched, and when he was exhausted and out of breath, and said no more, she whispered again: "Ah, Wang Mingxuan! ”

She laughed loudly, and laughed bitterly, interrupting him by saying, "Look, sir! Your nails are bleeding! ”

The man was stunned for a moment, staring at his hands as if he were carved in clay, and at the end, in a surprisingly gentle tone, said, "That's not it! Insult me, mock me, and overwhelm me! But, come, come! We need to hurry. I told you, just tomorrow, the gallows on the river beach, you know? Always ready. It's horrible! I saw you walk into the prison car! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Gallows! Your capital punishment! ”

He grabbed her by the arm, in a trance, and tried to drag her away.

She stared at him blankly, "How is Wang Mingxuan?"

"What the hell happened to him?" She asked again coldly.

"He's dead!" The man shouted.

"Dead!" She was always cold and motionless. "Why, then, do you want to persuade me to live?"

He didn't listen to her, but seemed to say to himself, "Oh! Yes, he must have died, the blade was deep in it. I want the tip of the knife to go straight to the heart! Ah, all my strength is focused on the tip of the dagger! ”

When the woman heard this, she pounced on him like a furious tiger, and with a supernatural force pushed him down the stairs, shouting: "Get out, get out, murderer!" Let me die! Let me and his blood become an indelible stain on your head! I don't care about you! ”

The man staggered to the stone staircase, quietly freed his feet from the folds of his black robe, picked up the lantern, slowly climbed the stone staircase that led to the door, opened the door, and walked out.

Suddenly, the woman saw him poking his head in from the doorway, and the expression on her face was so terrible, furious, desperate, that even her voice was hoarse, and she yelled at her: "I tell you, he is right next to you, buried in the wall beside you!" ”

Hear this horrible news.

The woman threw herself on the ground. No sound was heard in the dungeon anymore, except for the sighs of droplets falling in the darkness and shaking the puddles.