Infinite Postman/Dreadful Postman

The two houses on the side have already collapsed.

The broken walls are in ruins, and some daily necessities can be vaguely seen under the ruins.

As for what else is below, Zhao Ke doesn't know.

Push open the door of the front room.

"Om~"

There was a thin layer of dust on the wooden door that hadn't been pushed open for an untold amount of time. Under the mist, the weak light could not even illuminate the room.

All that could be seen were gleams of light like spotlights shining in through the dilapidated doors and windows of the house.

It doesn't make the house look so dark.

It can be seen that as Zhao Ke pushed the door open, the dust rolled up floated in the air like snowflakes.

"This place should be an office."

Zhao Ke took a closer look, except for a table, there were layers of coffins neatly placed beside it.

It's just that these coffins are all semi-finished products.

In reality, the Han people are not allowed to be buried in the ground.

Although there are coffin shops, there are no Han people buying coffins anymore.

If you want a coffin, you have to go to the village and ask Master to make it.

There is no store, but everyone knows who can make coffins.

Zhao Ke wanted to find a good coffin so that he could sleep soundly.

In particular, I went to the countryside and asked someone to make a coffin for myself.

So I do know some rules about making coffins.

For example, most of these semi-finished coffins only made a mold, or polished a few boards, and put them there for later use.

The coffin can only be made when someone comes to order the coffin.

As the saying goes, "the master does not make a tree that falls to the ground".

"Falling down" refers to someone who has died.

It means that it is unlucky not to make a coffin for the dead. This behavior shows that the family lacks planning and ignores the laws of nature and human relations.

In addition to this one, there are no nails in the coffin, the emphasis on wood, the considerations on the coffin lid, and the rules on size, all of which have their own differences.

It's just that these rules are rarely followed by masters in reality.

Because this is the rule of the Han nationality.

If you think about it, no matter how similar your own things are to outsiders, you can still learn from them.

Even if you talk about the horizon and add many fancy things, it is still not your own culture.

Because you don't have that foundation at all.

Zhao Ke glanced at the notebook on the table.

He stepped forward, picked up a book, and blew away the dust on the book. It was indeed a ledger.

After two glances, Zhao Ke lost interest.

Throw the account book on the table casually.

The ledger, which was as thick as two fingers, fell heavily on the table with a "bang!"

All of a sudden, I saw dust rolling on the table.

Zhao Ke immediately regretted it, and swept his hand in front of his face, just as he was about to use his source hand to sweep away the dust.

Suddenly, I felt a sinking hand, a cold and slippery touch.

It was as if something suddenly fell into his hands.

Zhao Ke looked back, his heart skipped a beat.

I saw that in my hand, I don't know when, there was an extra skull.

It seemed to be shaken by the skull.

In the empty eye sockets, two pitch-black red-headed centipedes quickly crawled out of the eye sockets.

It has a scarlet head and two long and thin antennae.

Dense tentacles quickly crawled out of the skeleton's eye sockets.

It's just that Zhao Ke shook his hand, but he shook the two centipedes off the ground. Just as the centipedes landed, two golden needle-like sword lights pierced through the heads of the two centipedes instantly.

Zhao Ke squatted down and pinched a centipede with his fingers.

I don't know how long these two centipedes have been lodged in the skull.

It is fat and big, its body is as wide as a thumb, and it is a foot long.

The back of the body is black and oily, and the head is as red as blood.

"rare!"

Zhao Ke squinted and put the two centipedes into the storage ring, which was a rare delicacy.

Brush with sauce,

a fire roasted,

one fried,

Paired with a bowl of old wine, the taste is really...

After putting away the centipede, Zhao Ke looked up at the top of his head.

On the beam above the head, there is still an empty noose hanging.

"Suicide? Or... homicide?"

Seeing this, Zhao Ke waved his camera hand to sweep the room, only to see the dust on the ground was pushed away by the camera hand.