This is the second time huarumo came to Yincun. The first time he came, when the spring was warm and the flowers were blooming, the grass was luxuriant, the birds were singing constantly, the farmers under the old trees sat idle, and the peach garden was leisurely and pleasant to the eyes, just like the falling moon Valley in those days, who had no struggle with the world and was kind to others.

but this time, the tragedy of that year reappeared in front of us. The red light came from far and near, and the smell of blood mingled with the heat coming from our faces. The whole place...