My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

Zhao Qiang squatted by the pit, rubbing his hands together. The dim light from his flashlight shone on the exposed stone slab at the bottom of the pit, and his eyes reflected two greedy little flames.

He swallowed hard, lowered his voice, and shouted behind him, "Erzhuang, hurry up, give it your all, we'll see it soon!" Zhang Zhuang responded, spat into his palm, rubbed it, and then picked up the shovel and dug away.

To be fair, although Zhang Zhuang wasn't the brightest, his muscular physique wasn't for nothing. He wielded a shovel with incredible skill, shoveling dirt out one scoop after another, like a human excavator.

Zhao Qiang crouched down in the bushes and cut the surveillance cameras and several alarm lines that ran along the wall clean. He did it quickly and accurately. After all, everyone has their own specialty. Zhao Qiang had been stealing chickens and dogs in Beicheng for more than ten years. He didn't have any other skills, but he was a master at vandalizing public property.

Suddenly, a muffled thud came from the bottom of the pit. The shovel had struck something hard. It was no longer the soft sound of the soil, but a dull thud that was particularly clear in the quiet of the night.

Zhang Zhuang's hand paused, and he froze for a second before suddenly raising his head. The eyelet in his stocking had somehow become crooked again, revealing a pair of wide-open eyes. He excitedly whispered in a low, shrill voice, "Boss, dig, dig, dig... we found it!"

Zhao Qiang threw the wire cutters on the ground and jumped into the pit in three quick steps, not even noticing that he had twisted his ankle.

He took out a small flashlight from his pocket, turned the brightness down to the lowest setting, and squatted down on the stone slab, shining it on himself again and again.

The stone slab was carved from a single piece of white marble, smooth as a mirror, and gleamed with a warm, cool light in the dim light. Its edges were perfectly embedded in the soil, making it clear at a glance that what lay beneath it was no ordinary object.

Zhao Qiang licked his lips, his voice barely concealing his barely suppressed excitement: "Good heavens, if the lid is this elaborate, what must the inside be like?"

At this moment, the previously clear night sky suddenly darkened, and a large cloud drifted over from behind the mountain, completely obscuring the moon, and the surrounding light suddenly dimmed by several degrees.

The breeze had changed direction at some point, transforming from a gentle draft into a cool, gust of air that brushed against the back of my neck, carrying an indescribable chill.

Zhang Zhuang squatted by the pit, unable to help but shiver. The hairs on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by stockings stood up.

He shrank back, his teeth chattering uncontrollably again: "Big...big...big boss, don't you...don't you feel...feel...there's a...a...a chilling...a cold wind?"

  

Zhao Qiang was lying on the edge of the stone slab, tracing the carved patterns on it with his fingers, his eyes almost touching the stone.

Hearing this, he didn't even raise his head, but just snorted disdainfully through his nose.

He grabbed a shovel from the side and stuck it into the edge of the stone slab, a triumphant smile spreading across his face: "What eerie wind? That's clearly my future glory! Come and lend a hand, pry this lid open!"

After hearing what he said, Zhang Zhuang's initial unease subsided somewhat. Thinking that there might really be treasure inside, he stopped talking and squatted down to help Zhao Qiang pry open the stone slab.

The two of them worked together to pry open the small stone slabs around the main stone slab, and the complete shape of the coffin was finally revealed to them.

This is not a wooden coffin. The coffin body is made of a single piece of dark granite, polished to a deep luster under the moonlight. The coffin walls are covered with intricate relief carvings, not the common dragons, phoenixes, and auspicious clouds, but small scenes, as if someone were carefully drawing something with the tip of a knife.

Upon closer inspection, there are cakes, rabbits, two figures walking hand in hand under a tree, a carousel, a pattern resembling a bench, and two potted, unidentified plants hanging down.

In the very center of the coffin lid was a line of small characters, carved with extremely deep and fine strokes, each one with great force, as if the carver had used all their strength and all their obsession to carve these words: "Sister, stay here obediently, I will take you home."

Zhao Qiang held up his small flashlight and looked at the words over and over again, clicking his tongue in amazement: "Are the Jiang family members out of their minds? How can a dead person run home by himself? And they carved so many pictures, don't they find it troublesome?"

After venting their frustrations, the two stood on either side of the coffin, took a deep breath, and inserted the tips of their shovels into the gap between the coffin lid and the body, applying force simultaneously.

The granite coffin lid was incredibly heavy. Zhang Zhuang's face turned red, and the muscles in his arms bulged. Zhao Qiang gritted his teeth and strained with the soles of his feet, his legs scraping deep grooves in the ground.

The coffin lid was pried up inch by inch, first with a small crack, then widening until it was finally pushed aside with a loud thud, landing on the grass and creating a shallow crater.

Zhao Qiang and Zhang Zhuang tossed the coffin lid aside, leaned against the coffin, and gasped for breath. Their backs were pressed against the cold granite coffin walls, and they had used up all their strength.

After a while, Zhao Qiang nudged Zhang Zhuang's shoulder with his elbow and said, panting, "Zhang Zhuang, what kind of treasure do you think is inside?"

Zhang Zhuang leaned back against the coffin, his chest heaving violently. After thinking for a long time, he could only manage to stammer out, "I...I don't know...Big...Big...Big Brother, what do you think?"

"I don't know either, but I feel like it will definitely make our lives carefree for the rest of our days."

Zhao Qiang wiped the sweat from his face, looked up at the moon that had reappeared from the clouds, his eyes filled with anticipation for a bright future. "Let me tell you," he said, "I'm going to find Xiao Cui, and we'll open a shop together, selling that...tiramisu. I heard city people love it..."

The two men, with their backs to the coffin, chatted excitedly about their wonderful life after becoming rich, completely immersed in the joy of about to reach the pinnacle of their lives, completely unaware of the hand reaching out from behind them in the dim light.

That hand was as pale as the finest mutton fat jade, with distinct joints, slender and long fingers, and nails with a faint pink tinge.

The hand gripped the edge of the coffin tightly, the knuckles turning slightly white, and then a person slowly sat up from inside the coffin.

Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders and face, swaying gently in the night breeze. Moonlight shone through the gaps in the clouds and fell perfectly on her. She was wearing a pure white dress, and large patches of dried, dark red bloodstains were scattered all over the hem and her chest, looking particularly shocking in the pale moonlight.

She slowly turned her head, her clear, cold eyes peering through her loose hair towards the direction from which the sound came.

Then she stood up and stepped out of the coffin.

Another breeze blew by, making Zhang Zhuang's neck feel chilly.

Suddenly, alarm bells rang in his head, which was throbbing from the tight stockings. This wind was wrong; it wasn't the ordinary wind he'd felt before…

He felt the chill wasn't coming from the outside, but seeping in from his back, climbing up his spine from his tailbone, making him shiver uncontrollably.

He shrank his neck, turned his head slightly, and his pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints.

A disheveled figure, covered in blood, stood beside the coffin. Moonlight shone on her white dress, making the large patches of dark red bloodstains appear as fresh as if they had just been splashed on.

The night wind blew her loose long hair, revealing her pale face in the moonlight.

As the clouds once again obscured the moon, the surrounding light suddenly dimmed, and then the figure slowly and silently floated towards them.

Zhang Zhuang felt as if he had been thrown into an ice cellar. Every inch of his skin, from his scalp to the soles of his feet, was screaming, and every hair on his body stood on end.

He opened his mouth, wanting to call out the boss's name, but it felt like something was tightly choking his throat, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word. He could only make intermittent hissing sounds from his throat.

He used all his strength to push Zhao Qiang beside him, his fingers gripping Zhao Qiang's sleeve and pulling hard, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

Zhao Qiang was speaking enthusiastically, describing his and Xiao Cui's bright future with great enthusiasm, when Zhang Zhuang pushed him, causing him to stagger. He waved his hand impatiently, "Hey, Er Zhuang, let me tell you, I have another idea... Don't push me yet, wait until I finish..."

But Zhang Zhuang couldn't hear what he was saying at all. He just pushed him with increasing force, almost causing him to fall off the ground.

Zhao Qiang finally lost his temper and abruptly turned around: "Erzhuang, you bastard, do you...?"

His voice abruptly stopped.

Just then, the dark clouds dispersed, and moonlight poured down through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the figure standing less than three steps in front of him, leaving him nowhere to hide.

It was a woman wearing a pure white dress, with large patches of dark red bloodstains on the hem that looked like eerie flowers in the moonlight.

Her long hair fell over her shoulders, with a few strands hanging down beside her face. The moonlight made her already fair skin almost transparent.

She lowered her head slightly, her long hair falling down her side, revealing a pair of clear, deep eyes.

Those eyes were fixed on him without blinking, and then the corners of her mouth slowly, bit by bit, curled into a sinister arc.

Upon seeing this, Zhao Qiang's eyes rolled back, the color drained from his face in an instant, and he fell straight backward, his head hitting the grass with a dull thud. He had completely passed out.

Seeing Zhao Qiang lying on the ground, his face pale, Zhang Zhuang assumed that the ghost in front of him had killed his boss and was terrified.

He knelt down with a thud, his forehead pounding against the bluestone slab with a loud thud. As he pounded, he cried incoherently, saying that he had a seventy-year-old mother, a three-year-old baby, and a lame dog at home. He begged this ghost to spare him, promising that he would burn more paper money and do more good deeds during festivals. He even confessed to peeping at his neighbor, Widow Wang, while she was bathing when he was a child.

This man, who had stuttered for half his life, suddenly spoke a sentence quickly and clearly in the face of extreme fear, without even realizing how fluent he was at that moment.

Su Qing stood in the moonlight, looking at the burly man in front of her whose forehead was red from kowtowing, and then at the pale, thin man lying on the ground. She opened her mouth slightly, as if she wanted to say something.

She took a step forward, her long, loose hair fluttering in the night wind, her blood-stained white skirt swaying gently with each step. She reached out a pale hand, wanting to pat the burly man who was still kowtowing, hoping he would stop and answer a few questions first.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zhang Zhuang saw the white figure approaching him. The pale hand was already above his head. He froze, even his kowtow motion was frozen in mid-air.

Then his eyes rolled back and he passed out cleanly, falling to his side and landing on Zhao Qiang's arm.

The cemetery immediately fell silent.

Su Qing stood barefoot on the cold white marble floor, her long, loose hair blowing across her shoulders in the night wind, and her blood-stained white dress swaying gently in the moonlight.

She glanced at the two unconscious figures lying side-by-side on the ground, then looked down at her own blood-soaked clothes and the pried-open coffin behind her. Her lips twitched, and she thought to herself, speechless, "System, is this what you meant by someone coming to meet us?"