Wake Up, Stop Dreaming [Quick Transmigration]

149

   The sound of sorrow was getting closer, and the three quickly walked into the village, passing by a group of villagers with flashlights on the way.

    Hearing human voices from a distance, the three of them wisely hid, and after they left, they sneaked into the village like a devil.

    Every household is lighting a lamp. This lamp refers to the lamp in the house, but the door lamp at the gate is consistently not turned on.

    What is even more surprising is that no one has seen them since they entered the village.

    He Ziyang said: "Where did you go if you didn't go to bed in the middle of the night?"

    He Bao said, "Sorrow and joy have not stopped. Let's go to the funeral."

    Zuo Yan gathered his clothes, "Who has died, and the whole village will be buried?" Moreover, dying on the day of the Ghost Festival, inexplicably disturbed.

    They followed the sound of mourning, Zuo Yan felt that he was getting closer and closer to Gülen.

    Until they met a group of people on the road, the funeral crowd carrying the coffin.

    A group of people are dressed in white linen clothes, with hats of the same color on their heads, and their tails are taken up in the night breeze.

    Walking stiffly, there is not much sadness on the face, but more fear that cannot be concealed.

    The person who lifted the coffin clenched his teeth, the muscles on his arms bulged, and felt like he was about to be stretched through his clothes.

    The person in the front was serious, with a white sail in his hand. Every few steps along the road, a crisp bell rang. Zuo Yan looked carefully and found that there was a simple bell hanging on the top of the sail.

    Three steps are shaken, five steps are shaken, the rhythm of the sound is different.

    And what attracted Zuo Yan's sight most was the coffin surrounded by the crowd. It was pitch black as if it had been stained with ink, but it was smelly.

    The coffin looked simple, but it was unusually heavy, and the faces of the men who carried the coffin were bruised.

    Several people squatted behind the crooked neck tree on the side of the road. In summer, the branches were luxuriant. Through the gaps in the branches, a large group of people could be seen behind. The white figures looked like ghosts in the woods before.

    In front of the coffin, there was a woman leading the child. She did not hear the cry, and held the child's hand tightly. The child who seemed to be only about five or six years old couldn't help the pain and started crying.

    This was the first human voice apart from sorrow and ringing. If it weren't for this cry, they would hardly remember it. The most indispensable for the funeral procession was this cry.

    As soon as the child cried, the woman who provoked her hurriedly went to gag the child's mouth, and looked at the leader in front of her in a panic. The man shook his ringing hand and turned to look at the woman coldly.