The face in front of him was too familiar, and it was the most unforgettable face of the Rose Daoist. Many past events come to mind at once, and the ups and downs are in the stomach, not the taste.

"What's the matter, Noble Daoist? Is there something wrong? Do you see that? Junxiu asked, leaning against the wall. From time to time, the face twitched, and you could see how intense the pain was. She looked into the complicated eyes of the Rose, thinking that he saw in him the source of her pain.

"Oh, no. You're too similar to ......," the Taoist pursed his lips, "it's too similar." ”

"With whom?" Xiao Xiao asked.

"With ......," said the Taoist priest who raised his hand and pinched his nose, "It is very similar to a friend of mine in the past, really, very similar, it is simply poured out of a mold." ”

People here like to say that the two things are poured out of the same mold when they describe other things as similar. At that time, there were often vendors who sold scoops, but they did not bring an iron scoop or an aluminum scoop, and if they wanted to buy it, the vendor sat down on the spot and took out a small stove, a bag of powder, and a wooden box with molding sand from the cloth bag on his back. The stove was lit and the powder was poured in, and in a moment the powder burned a flowing red liquid, and a dust-like curtain floated on the surface of the liquid. Pour the liquid into the molding sand, cool it with the lid of the box, and then open the box, an aluminum scoop is ready, and the spoon of water, washing rice, and holding bran have strong tools.

All the aluminum scoops sold are made in this way, they are all exactly the same, not bad, if you don't tie a red rope on it, or engrave the name, which scoop is really not distinguishable. So people are used to calling these very similar things "poured out of a mold". Even if the two people look alike, they can be described as if they were poured out of the magical wooden box of the peddler.

The priest glanced at the corners of the hall, where many farm tools were piled up.

At this time, Xuan Po ran back and carried a basket of lime.

"What is this for?" Xiao Xiao asked, pointing to Liud.

Xuan Po wiped the sweat from her face and replied, "I'll need it for a while." ”

In these neighboring villages, news spreads faster than the wind. A little thing happens, like throwing a pebble on the calm water, and the waves are pushed out, and all at once they ripple around. They haven't started to deal with the ghost who provoked the untimely death, and the grandfather has already gotten the news. But it's no wonder that grandpa is the best ghost hunter in this area, and when something similar happens, people must be the first to think of telling him.

When the neighbor came to tell Grandpa, he was sharpening his knife on the stone pier in front of the house. It is said to be sharpening knives, but in fact, it is to drag the sickle kitchen knife back and forth on the stone twice, and you have to wait until the vendor who sharpens the scissors to come.

After the grandfather finished sharpening the knife, he pinched the blade with his fingers to see if it was a little thinner. After the neighbor finished speaking, the grandfather hurriedly put his finger in his mouth and sucked, and his hand was injured by the blade. Grandpa looked up at the jujube tree in front of the house and drove away a sparrow that was noisy in the branches. Grandpa took his finger out and looked at it, and a crystal clear red bead was expanding on the wound.

"Coming out so soon?" Grandpa frowned, "I thought it would be a little later." ”

After putting away the knife, the grandfather went into the house and sat down, looking up at the beams of the hall. A black, shiny coffin rested on two stout beams.

It wasn't grandma's coffin, but a new one made by my father for my grandfather. Grandma's coffin is still in her room, and it has become a habit for her to listen to the crisp sound by tapping it a few times with her dry fingers every day, as important as eating and sleeping. And the grandfather spent a lot of effort to hang the coffin on the beam of the house and hang it.

I was still studying at school at the time, and when my mother called to ask for warmth, I mentioned by the way that my grandfather asked my father to help the third master of our village make a coffin. The third master is my father's father's brother, he worked as a carpenter when he was young, and when he was old, other carpenters were too lazy to do it, and specialized in making coffins.

I was disgusted when I heard this, thinking that my grandmother was desperately trying to get the coffin because she was really old, just in case. For an elderly person of my grandmother's age, a coffin is usually prepared at home. And grandpa is only a little over sixty, and now he is walking like flying, he can eat and drink, why should he prepare a coffin in advance? Moreover, I really have a deep affection for my grandfather, I am very afraid that he will leave us, and I am very reluctant to associate him with the message of death. So my mother told me about the Noble Taoist priest coming to the village and the Yaksha ghost. My mother didn't tell me anything about my father's manuscript, and my grandfather wouldn't let my mother see my father's manuscript, so my mother didn't know that my grandfather had calculated that many years later, my grandfather would be planted in the hands of the Yaksha ghost, and his life would be in danger at any time. So I didn't understand it at the time.

That night, I went back to my dormitory to sleep after self-study, and between half waking up and half asleep, Yueji came to me again. She told me, in a voice thinner than a summer night's salamander, that the smell she had told me last time should have arrived at its destination.

I asked, is that the smell of a Yaksha?

She nodded, her long hair hitting my face like the weeds and leaves on the side of the road when my grandfather was herding cattle, I can't tell if it was comfortable or itchy, but it gave off a fresh vegetal scent.

Yueji told me again that to her surprise, she had also smelled other scents this time, and the murderous aura in them was worse than the previous smell, which made her shudder.

I laughed and said, your sense of smell is really amazing, my mother called and told me that a very ugly Taoist priest suddenly came to the village. I heard that this Taoist priest's magic is quite good, and he easily controls the red-haired ghost.

Is it? Yueji looked at me suspiciously, her eyes glowing with a faint blue light. That blue light is seren, contemplative, pure, and at the same time glamorous.

The moon season vanished, like the smoke of a cooking house blown away by the breeze. Then the light smoke blown into wisps of wind penetrated under the bed, and the newspaper covering Yueji made a slight rustling sound, as if someone's pen was writing on it.

I stared at the place where Yueji disappeared for a long time, thinking about why my grandfather had set the coffin for the third master so early. If I had known about my grandfather's manuscript at that time, I would have thought: after calculating that my grandfather would be killed by a female pervert, how could my grandfather save his life after so many years? Grandpa should have thought that when Grandpa was in danger, he himself was already a dry bone in the coffin, how could he help Grandpa across time and space?

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