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I don't know if you feel this way, but the more you are afraid of something, the more curious you become, and you always want to see what is going on.

Anyway, I am.

With a broom in hand, I started my day again.

In the distance, you can see some lights in front of the tombstones, which should be electronic candles placed during the ceremony.

I faintly heard the sound of "coo-to-goo" in front of me, and walked over to take a look, a bottle of wine was poured in front of the tombstone, and the liquor in it flowed out and flowed into the tomb along the gap.

I walked over and lifted the bottle up. After thinking about it, he poured a big gulp into his mouth. They all say that alcohol is intimidating, and I thought it might reduce some of my fears.

A hot stream ran down my throat and into my stomach, and I couldn't help coughing with the hot sensation.

I turned around and was just about to leave, when I suddenly felt that my clothes were being pulled.

At first, I thought it was something hanging on my clothes, but when I thought about it, a chill rushed from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.

What can hang clothes in a place like this?!

Gritting my teeth, I turned around and found the hem of my clothes hanging from the corners of the tombstone.

I was about to take it off, but I saw the bottle swaying towards me, and when it was about to spill, it tilted to a halt.

I've seen on TV that some people with a particularly good sense of balance can do this, but I don't feel the slightest sense of panic and fear when half a bottle of wine "stands" in front of me like this.

In a panic, I pulled my clothes, but I didn't pull them.

I had the courage to glance at the picture on the tombstone, an old man of about seventy or eighty years old.

The half bottle staggered as I watched in horror, as if to signal something to me.

I wanted to run quickly, but my legs didn't listen to my command, and they were as soft as noodles, and I didn't sit on the ground with my buttocks, which was already very good.

After waiting for a while, and there was no other movement, I simply picked up the bottle and took another big sip.

The degree of liquor should not be low, the stomach is generally hot and spicy, and the eyes are a little blurry, and the strong fear before seems to be much less.

I tried to reach out and take off the corner of my garment that hung on the tombstone, but as soon as I reached out, it fell on its own.

My head is a little dizzy, but I don't want to leave in a hurry, it seems that wine can really strengthen my courage.

In my blurred vision, the bottle poured again in the direction of the tombstone, and the wine inside flowed down the gap into the tomb.

My feet slipped, and I sat on the ground.

I knew it wasn't scary, but the result of alcohol paralyzing the cerebellum.

Perhaps because of the long-term depression, I enjoyed this dizzy pleasure a little, so I simply picked up the wine bottle and poured it into my mouth twice.

Alcohol really made me forget my fears.

In a daze, I saw the old man in the photo walk down from the tombstone, sit across from me, and reach out and pat me on the shoulder.

I must have laughed, snot and tears running down together.

I can't remember what happened later, but I vaguely remember that I should have talked a lot to him, about my experience, about Qingxian, and about grandma.

He had been listening quietly, sipping the wine, and his expression seemed a little lonely.

Then I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was lying in front of that tombstone with a bag of garbage beside me.

Rubbing my swollen and aching head, I quickly stood up and tried to clean up the unswept area, but found that it seemed to have been cleaned.

I'm not sure if it was a hallucination last night or if something really happened, because I can't remember any details at all.

It was then that I fell in love with drinking and the feeling of getting drunk......

Since then, every night before going to the cemetery, I have to drink three taels of white wine, and I forget about my fears in a daze.

But this trick is not a panacea, I don't know if you know a way to sober up, called being scared awake.

That night, I swept to the last row. In fact, I haven't swept this row in days.

Because there is only one tomb in the last row that someone "lives", and no one comes to worship and sweep, so there is no need to sweep it at all.

I don't know why, but I suddenly wanted to see the lonely tombstone and the color photograph again.

Probably because of the drink, I stumbled a little.

When I slowly approached the tombstone, I saw two bottles of liquor side by side in front of his tombstone!

But apart from these two bottles of liquor, there was no other trace of anyone coming to sacrifice and sweep it.

I consoled myself: perhaps his family pursued environmental protection, so they did not adopt the traditional way of worshipping and sweeping.

The moment I stood in front of the tombstone, I regretted it.

I found myself still feeling the same fear, even more so than I did the first night. Because I remember very well that the last time I saw the photo, his hair was neatly combed, meticulous and, most importantly, without a beard!

But now I see it as if I haven't washed my face for a few days, unkempt and full of stubble.

The more I looked, the more scared I became, the more scared I became, the more curious I became, and the more curious I became, the more I wanted to see.

I can even see the droppings in the corners of his eyes! And, seeing his lips squirm.

Yes, it's wriggling!

I put my hands on his tombstone, keeping my balance and staring at the face in the photograph.

I can't remember what I was thinking at the time, except that he was probably saying "drinking".

I don't remember anything about the rest of the incident, but I was woken up by the old man who was setting up a stall in front of the cemetery.

There was blood all over his body and face.

He said that I was holding half a broken bottle in my hand and wanted to stick it in my head, but thanks to the necklace around my neck, I didn't cut it too deeply.

I kind of understood what I had been through, said thank you to the old man, and turned to leave.

The old man stopped me, hesitated, and told me:

"You try to be, still, don't go to the top of the mountain......"

I nodded and didn't speak.

Along the way, I felt a pain in my stomach, and finally returned home, sat on the toilet and happily vented the metabolic garbage in my body.

Suddenly, I felt something strange about the exit, as if something was moving.

I wiped it with paper, and I was surprised to find that it was an earthworm that was still struggling and wriggling!

Standing up violently, there were still many earthworms in the toilet, they were entangled, and they were still stained with a faint yellow ......

"Vomit ......"

I spent the whole day in the toilet that day and always felt like I still had earthworms in my stomach.

When I vomited and collapsed, I suddenly remembered that I seemed to have eaten vermicelli when I drank last night, and it was probably these earthworms, but I really don't know why they weren't bitten and didn't die......