Town Mayor You Changshui looked up in surprise after examining the portrait of Hu Wenjin. He stared at the pale-faced Song Ke for a long time before finally speaking, "Song, you really can bring the dead to life! You've captured someone you've never even met so vividly... it's clear that you're no ordinary person!" Zhong Qi, standing nearby, was also taken aback. He hadn't expected Song Ke, whom he had summoned without much thought, to be so impressive.

  Song Ke smiled faintly and replied, "Mayor You, you're too kind. I'm just a craftsman, earning my living with my skills. As long as you find me useful, I'll do my best."

  Both the mayor and Zhong Qi suddenly caught a faint, unpleasant smell in the air.

  Song Ke quickly left the town hall, clutching the portrait of Hu Wenjin. He always felt a sense of unease and apprehension when dealing with the government office.

  San Laizi, carrying a hoe, passed by the door of the painting studio and gnced inside. Song Ke also saw San Laizi and smiled at him. San Laizi, however, walked away with a grim expression. Song Ke felt that today, San Laizi seemed like an entirely different person compared to yesterday evening. The small street of the town ran east to west, and San Laizi walked steadily westward.

  Song Ke stood at the door of the shop, watching San Laizi's figure disappear into the distance. The early summer wind ruffled his hair, and the scar on his head gleamed under the afternoon sunlight. In Song Ke's eyes, San Laizi's figure seemed desote. He never imagined that the ugliest person in Tang Town would become his only friend in the days to come.

  A mysterious voice seemed to be calling out to Song Ke, though he couldn't tell where it came from. He closed the door of the painting studio and began walking westward along the town street. As he walked, many people along the street watched him with respect. The news regarding his talent for resurrecting the dead through his paintings had quickly spread throughout Tang Town. The arrival of someone more skilled than the old painter had filled the townspeople with admiration for Song Ke. They couldn't help but imagine how glorious it would be for themselves or their loved ones to leave behind a high-quality portrait after death.

  The scruffy dog, with patches of missing fur, emerged from a corner of the small street and began following Song Ke, maintaining a certain distance between them. As Song Ke reached the end of the street, he saw a stream. The water shone brightly under the sun, flowing down from a nearby mountain gorge and winding its way around Tang Town, disappearing into the distance. The soft, gurgling sound of the water seemed to pass over Song Ke's weathered heart, and a sense of tenderness slowly rose from the top of his head.

  Song Ke's gaze extended to a distant hillside, covered in wild grass, with not a single tree in sight. He could make out several graves on the slope, and there, he also saw San Laizi. Song Ke wondered what San Laizi was doing on that hill. Curiosity stirred within him, and he decided to go up to the hillside for a look. After all, there was nothing pressing, and as long as Tang Town had no deaths, he would remain in this idle state. Song Ke crossed the small wooden bridge over the stream and continued walking toward the hill. The scruffy dog followed behind him, pausing at the edge of the bridge. It hesitated for a moment, then, with its damp tongue hanging out, it tottered across the bridge.

  As Song Ke walked, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He wanted to turn back to the town, but his curiosity kept urging him forward. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the hillside. At that moment, a massive dark cloud obscured the sun, and the hill seemed to become ominously eerie in an instant. As he got closer, Song Ke realized that the hill was a chaotic graveyard. The graves he had seen earlier by the stream were just the ones that poked through the grass, but now, he saw that beneath the wild grass, countless graves of various sizes were scattered everywhere. A gust of wind swept by, lifting the hem of Song Ke's long gown. The grass rustled, and it felt as though countless souls were dancing in the breeze.

  San Laizi was digging a hole. He showed no reaction to Song Ke's arrival. The hole he was digging seemed to blend into the hillside, as if it were a scar on his own body. Song Ke walked over to him. San Lai Zi, bare-chested, dug with relentless focus, sweat pouring down his face. The stray dog, hesitant, kept its distance, hiding in the grass and panting heavily. Neither San Laizi nor Song Ke noticed the dog.

  Song Ke couldn't understand why San Laizi was digging the hole. The dirt he dug up was a deep red, as if stained by blood. At that moment, an eagle circled overhead, its wings cutting through the darkened sky like it might swoop down and carry San Laizi away at any moment. San Laizi paused in his digging, looked up at the sky shrouded by dark clouds, and noticed the eagle. With a strange and shrill cry, he called out to the bird. The eagle circled a few more times, fpping its wings and screeching, before flying off into the distance.

  San Laizi cast a dark gnce at Song Ke. "Painter Song, you shouldn't have come."

  Song Ke sensed there was a hidden meaning in San Laizi's words, but he couldn't tell if it meant he shouldn't have come to Tang Town or if he shouldn't have come to this eerie hilltop.

  Song Ke forced a smile. "What's this hole for?"

  San Laizi's voice grew darker. "I'm digging a grave."

  Song Ke frowned. "But there are no deaths in the town. What's the point of a grave"?

  San Laizi's eyes gleamed with a strange malice. "Someone will die eventually. This grave will come in handy."

  A shiver ran down Song Ke's spine. "Do you... do you feel that someone is going to die?"

  San Laizi let out a cold ugh. "Isn't death a good thing for you? You get paid handsomely for painting the dead."

  Song Ke replied, "If that's the case, I'd rather starve to death."

  San Laizi smirked, his eyes narrowing. "What if I were digging my own grave? If I die, would you paint a portrait of me?"

  Song Ke said, "I would."

  San Laizi chuckled darkly. "Don't be so sure. If you paint me, you won't earn a single penny. I have no family. I′m a loner."

  Song Ke responded firmly, "I will paint you, as long as I'm still alive."

  San Laizi fixed his gaze on Song Ke, his eyes hardening. "Then before I die, I'll dig a grave for you."

  A chill ran through Song Ke, his body trembling. The world seemed to blur before him, and San Laizi's face became a vague, shapeless shadow.

  At that moment, the sound of a dog's whimper broke the silence…

  The butcher from the pork stall, Zheng Mashui, was leaning back in his chair, sound asleep. A fly buzzed around his greasy face, finally nding on his red, alcohol-sodden nose. The itch was unbearable, and instinctively, Zheng spped at his nose. The sp didn't kill the fly, but it did wake him up. Grumbling under his breath, he stretched zily and stood up from the chair, wiping his face with his dirty apron. The sky was already tinged with the hues of dusk. Zheng gnced at the few remaining pieces of pork on the butcher's block and muttered to himself, "If no one comes to buy, I'll just close up shop and take this home to eat myself!"

  Zheng Mashui spotted the painter, Song Ke.

  As Song Ke walked past the butcher shop, he gnced at Zheng Mashui.

  With a grin, Zheng Mashui called out to him, "You're the new painter, Song Ke, right?"

  Song Ke nodded politely in acknowledgment.

  Zheng Mashui, his voice booming, said, "Song Ke, come over here!"

  Song Ke paused. What did this stocky, beefy man want? Judging from the friendly gleam in his eyes, Song Ke deduced that Zheng Mashui meant no harm and approached him. Softly, Song Ke asked, "Did you need something?"

  Zheng Mashui lowered his voice and asked, "Song Ke, do you like pig kidneys?"

  To Song Ke, it was a strange question. He shook his head.