Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Li Mo's car bumped along the winding mountain road for three hours. The wheels rolled over the potholes and gravel, making a clattering sound like an old ox panting. His hands, already aching from gripping the steering wheel, unconsciously twisted his wrists slightly, trying to relieve the stiffness. On the passenger seat sat a half-empty bottle of long-cooled mineral water. Condensation dripped down the bottle's walls, leaving a small, dark stain on the floor mat.

At that moment, the navigation screen, which had been displaying the route normally, suddenly flickered a few times, and then the screen was covered in a chaotic white mess. Those white noise points danced wildly on the screen like countless anxious little bugs. No matter how Li Mo pressed the buttons below the screen, it would not return to normal. He frowned, muttering to himself, "This lousy navigation system, it fails at the critical moment."

He subconsciously looked up at the window, and a chill instantly ran up from the soles of his feet. He didn't know when the fog outside the window had grown thicker and thicker, as thick as insoluble ink, shrouding the entire world in a vast expanse of white. That fog wasn't the usual light morning mist in the mountains, but rather a heavy, damp air that seemed like it could be wrung out of water. Li Mo slowly lowered the window, and a cold, damp air immediately rushed in, carrying the unique mountain smell of rotting leaves, which made him cough twice.

He squinted, straining to see the road ahead, but his vision only extended five meters ahead. Beyond that, it was a blur of white. Even the trees on the roadside were reduced to blurry black shadows, swaying in the mist like silent ghosts. Li Mo's heartbeat quickened. He raised his hand to wipe the condensation from the car window, and the touch of his fingertips on the cold glass made him shudder.

Just as he was panicking, debating whether to turn back, his attention was suddenly drawn to a crooked road sign on the roadside ahead. He slowed down, inched closer, and finally made out the blurry words on the sign: "Qingshui Village." The three characters were written in red paint, but years of wind and sun had largely faded the color, leaving only a mottled dark red mark. In the white mist, it exuded an indescribable eeriness, like a long-dried bloodstain.

Seeing these three words, Li Mo's heart finally relaxed a little. He breathed a sigh of relief, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his aching shoulders. He was actually very reluctant to come to Qingshui Village this time.

It's been almost six months since my grandmother Zhang Lan passed away. When relatives in the city learned they were going to this remote mountain village to renovate my grandmother's old house, they all made excuses. Some said they were too busy with work, while others said they had young children who needed care. Finally, the hot seat fell to the recently unemployed Li Mo.

The night before he left, his mother called him and repeatedly warned him, "Xiao Mo, Qingshui Village is a very spooky place. When you get there, pack your things quickly during the day and don't go out at night, let alone stay overnight in your grandmother's old house. Do you understand?"

His mother's tone was serious and urgent, but Li Mo had always been a staunch atheist and didn't believe in these ghost stories at all. He smiled and comforted his mother: "Mom, don't let your imagination run wild. There aren't so many weird things. They're just rumors spread by the older generation. I'm just going to pack some things and will be back soon."

Now immersed in the scene, enveloped by this strange fog, Li Mo felt inexplicably uneasy. He shook his head, throwing away those messy thoughts, and thought to himself: "This fog must be too scary, which makes me overthink it."

He continued driving forward, but not far away, the car suddenly stopped with a clang. Li Mo was stunned for a moment, thinking that the car had broken down, and hurriedly got out to check. When he got to the front of the car, he found that the front wheel was blocked by a huge rock.

The stone was half a man's height, irregular in shape, and had a bumpy surface, as if it had rolled down from the mountain. The words "Qingshui Village" were engraved on the stone. Like the road sign we had just seen, it was also dark red, but the color was darker, as if it had been painted recently.

Li Mo frowned, feeling a little irritated. He rolled up his sleeves, walked over to the stone, and tried to push it. The stone didn't budge at all. He used all his strength again, until his face turned red, and the stone moved slightly. Just as he was about to push again, he suddenly heard a series of small footsteps behind him.

The footsteps were very light, like someone wearing soft-soled cloth shoes, walking slowly on the wet ground. Li Mo's body froze instantly, and he turned his head sharply, his heart pounding in his chest.

A blurry figure slowly emerged from the mist. It was an elderly woman, wearing a washed-out blue shirt, its cuffs and collar frayed. Her hair, graying, was casually tied back, with a few strands dangling on either side of her face. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, like fields plowed by time, pressed together, giving her a strikingly aged look.

What made Li Mo most uneasy was the old lady's gaze. She stared at him, her eyes empty and cold, without a trace of spirit, as if she was looking at something that didn't exist. Li Mo felt uncomfortable under her gaze and subconsciously took a step back.

"Young man, are you from outside?" The old lady finally spoke. Her voice was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing against wood. Every word she said was filled with an indescribable stiffness that made people feel uneasy.

Li Mo calmed himself down, forced a smile and nodded: "Well, old man, I am Zhang Lan's grandson, and I am here to clean up her house." As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed to a dilapidated adobe house not far away.

The adobe house stood alone on the edge of the village. Large sections of mud had fallen off the walls, revealing the mottled brickwork within. The roof tiles were also broken, and in places, even the exposed wooden beams could be seen. Next to the house was a dense bamboo forest. The bamboo grew tall and dense, its leaves rustling gently in the wind, like whispers from the shadows.

When the old lady heard the name "Zhang Lan," her eyes suddenly changed. A flash of fear crossed her previously empty gaze, and she took a sudden step back, her body trembling slightly. She raised her hand, waving her dry fingers wildly in the air, muttering to herself, "Don't go... don't go to that house... don't stay in that house at night... something bad will happen..."

Her voice grew fainter and fainter, until it was almost inaudible. As soon as she finished speaking, the old lady suddenly turned and quickly dived into the mist beside her. Her movements were astonishingly fast, like a gust of wind, and she disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving only a faint gust of cold wind that made Li Mo shiver.

Li Mo stood there, stunned for a long time. The old lady's words were like a thorn in his heart. He frowned. Although he was a little confused, he didn't take the old lady's words to heart.