I thought to myself, let’s see where you can run this time—now I’ve finally caught you! With my experience, at such a close distance, there’s no way it could escape. But when I looked at where I’d struck with the stick, there wasn’t even a trace of the rabbit. Damn it, the rabbit had inexplicably vanished right under my nose!

At that moment, I found it unbelievable. Earlier, the rabbit had seemed so sluggish, it didn’t even try to run when people approached it. But now, even after I’d swung the stick down, how could it still get away?

Though I felt strange about it, I hurriedly looked around, and then I actually saw it appear a dozen steps ahead of me, still propped up on its hind legs, its little eyes spinning as it stared at me!

Seeing it like that, I got angry. I thought, are you deliberately trying to challenge me? So I grabbed the firewood stick and charged at it again. Every time, it felt like I could hit it with the stick, but every time it managed to escape. After escaping, it never ran far, always reappearing just a short distance ahead of me.

Like this, back and forth, I gradually started to feel a bit scared. Because, without realizing it, I had run deep into the woods.

Anyone from the countryside knows that you shouldn’t wander around at night, or you might get entangled by ghosts, and if you’re unlucky, you’ll get “lost in a ghost maze,” wandering all night without finding your way out. This patch of woods was a place in the village that few people ever visited. The trees were dense, their branches and leaves blocking out the sky. Sunlight couldn’t reach in during the day, and at night it was pitch black. Since I was little, I’d heard villagers say this place was haunted, and some had even gotten lost here, coming back dazed and never acting normal again.

Just as I started to feel afraid, the rabbit actually took two steps toward me. Seeing this, I shook my head, thinking there couldn’t possibly be ghosts in this world—it was just something adults made up to scare kids. So I kept swinging the firewood stick and chased after it.

Chasing like this, before I knew it, I’d passed through the woods and come out onto a wide open field. There were rows of houses made of adobe bricks with black tiles, and in front of the houses, weeds grew taller than a person. At a glance, it was clear this place was an abandoned village that had been deserted for a long time.

But as I looked more closely in the moonlight, I saw flashes of white among the weeds in the village, and from time to time, I could hear people talking.

Seeing this scene, I was stunned—how could there be people here?

I’d lived in Brooks Town for five or six years, and I’d never heard of a village on this side of the woods. I could name all the villages in the area, and I’d been to all of them, since Grandpa often took me along to check feng shui in the neighboring villages.

While I was still puzzled, the wild rabbit in front of me suddenly darted straight into the village. Seeing this, I braced myself and chased after it...

Pushing through the overgrown weeds, I entered this strange little village. Only when I got closer did I realize how odd the houses were. They were all in a state of ruin, not only dilapidated, but with spiderwebs covering every door and window. At first glance, they looked just like abandoned old houses that hadn’t been lived in for ages.

Some houses had even collapsed, their mud walls eroded by years of wind and rain, full of gullies carved by water.

Even so, in front of each of these ruined, abandoned houses hung white lanterns. A few dim, wind-blown lanterns flickered weakly, but they showed that people were living in these houses—they weren’t just ownerless ruins.

Maybe I was too young at the time and didn’t know fear, but I just blundered on into the village, because the wild rabbit had run inside...

After passing a few broken houses, I suddenly heard the sound of drums and gongs ahead. Listening closely, there was even the music of an erhu and a suona!

Curious, I followed the sound of the drums and gongs, and soon a large open space appeared before me. There were no weeds here, and in the middle of the clearing stood an opera stage. On the stage, a few people in opera costumes were singing away!

The stage was filled with music, and below the stage, a crowd of people had gathered. In the middle of the night, the place was bustling with excitement!

Back then, there wasn’t even electricity, let alone TV. Whenever there was an opera performance, people from all the nearby villages would flock over, eager to join the fun.

When I saw there was an opera to watch, I excitedly squeezed forward.

There were already a lot of people watching, men and women, old and young, all dressed in a wild variety of clothes—some in ancient styles, some in modern. I looked around, but didn’t recognize a single person.

Just as I was watching with great interest, someone suddenly ran over and grabbed me, saying, “Isn’t this the grandson that Old Brooks’s family picked up?”

I turned around and saw an old man of about sixty, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

I immediately recognized him—wasn’t this Grandpa Young from our village?

As soon as I recognized him, I was terrified, because Grandpa Young had died of illness before the New Year, and Grandpa had even helped pick the spot for his grave. He’d been dead for over a year—how could he possibly be alive again?