lt;The misfortune of

Lin Haoran wanted to struggle against the little ghost's teasing, but his limbs were grabbed and yanked about like noodles, leaving him with no strength to resist. He could only sway along with the little ghost as it pushed him on a swing.,This place was strange, it was an old dilapidated hut. There were no decent houses around, and there were some pottery jars in the corner. However, a rather unremarkable bowl caught his eye - it looked exactly like a Ming Dynasty bowl.,Villagers in homespun short shirts carried farm produce past him, casting sideways glances his way, their eyes twinkling with amusement. He could still hear the fading chatter of their conversation.。