Two o'clock in the morning, the darkest time of the day.

In the gloomy cemetery, the tombstones looked like faces silently gazing at the world.

When Yang Xuming closed his eyes and lay down, he seemed to have fallen into an absolutely dark world.

His head rested on the cold floor.

No sound can be heard in the ear.

Even the wind disappeared.

Yang Xuming has an illusion, as if his body is falling.

But after he settled down, he found that this was just an illusion.

The floor behind his head was still cold and hard, and it was very uncomfortable to rest his head on it.

He is not falling.

But Yang Xuming did not move.

He lay there quietly, waiting for a few seconds.

It wasn't until nothing happened that Yang Xuming began to whisper his father's name.

If there is anyone in this world that he misses most, it is undoubtedly his father.

Yang Xuming whose father died, Yang Xuming is still in junior high school.

At that time, he was in a state of being incomprehensible to the sophistication of human beings.

His father's sudden death made him a little sad, but he didn't have much sense of reality. He didn't know what it meant to be missing his father.

I felt that I should cry, but I couldn't cry inexplicably, just sluggishly accepting the news of his father's death.

The relatives, friends and classmates around him all comforted him with similar words, so that he should not be sad and sorrowful.

But he really didn't feel how sad he was at that time. Instead, he was confused because of everyone's comfort-was he too indifferent? It was obvious that everyone felt that he should be sad. Why didn't he feel anything?

On the contrary, now that he is getting older, Yang Xuming feels a little inexplicable melancholy when he thinks of his father's affairs.

Also, my heartache for my mother.

Now my mother hasn't really grown old, and maybe she can take care of herself.

But one day, my mother will be completely old.

At that time, she was only an old man left.

Every time Yang Xuming thinks about this, he feels a little melancholy.

He took a long breath and continued to call his father's name in a low voice.

"Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing..."

Yang Xuming's whisper was very weak, so weak that it could hardly be heard.

He kept whispering the name, remembering the few memories of his childhood and his father in his mind.

The father in his memory was a very cheerful and sunny person, with an easygoing personality, and a good person who was praised by everyone.

At the same time, he is also a good father and a good husband.

In Yang Xuming's memory, his parents had never quarreled. Every time his mother was angry, his father would make his mother amused.

He does not smoke, drink, gamble, or have any bad habits.

When educating children, they always lead by example, generous and gentle, and will not put too much pressure on Yang Xuming, let alone, like many parents, want to let their children do things according to their own words and deeds.

When he is the kind of presence, you can hardly feel how good he is.

But after he leaves, you can gradually realize that the loss of this family is like losing their backbone and soul.

Recalling the past, Yang Xuming kept calling his father's name.

The mood gradually calmed down.

He didn't know what his call would call, but if his father could hear his call, then Yang Xuming had nothing to fear.

The man who is always smiling and caring about everyone around him, even if he is dead and turned into a ghost, will certainly not harm his family.

Yang Xuming has no doubt about this.

"Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing..."

Yang Xuming continued to call this name.

He didn't know how long he would continue to read.

The instructions in "The Record of Life and Death" did not say what Yang Xuming had to read to stop.

The book just said that if Yang Xuming survived, he might be able to unlock his own potential.

So the behavior this time is undoubtedly dangerous.

But now around Yang Xuming, there hasn't been any abnormality happening yet.

Perhaps when the deadliest crisis comes, Yang Xuming will know what to do...

"Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing..."

Yang Xuming whispered softly.

The soft calling sound spread far away in the darkness.

Yang Xuming, with his eyes closed and black cloth covered, could not see everything around him clearly, let alone how the graves around him reacted.

Perhaps at this time the souls lying in the cemetery have crawled out one by one?

Perhaps those rotten and distorted faces are surrounding him, silently watching this living person lying in the middle of the graveyard?

Yang Xuming took a deep breath, ignoring these mixed thoughts.

He continued to whisper his father's name.

But as the same thing continued to be repeated mechanically, Yang Xuming's thinking gradually began to wander.

In his mind, he thought of many childhood things.

Thinking of his father's smiling face, thinking of the tears of his mother crying at his father's funeral.

Silently, Yang Xuming felt that he was gradually falling.

He seemed to have fallen into a swamp of devouring people, and swallowing forces squeezed and drowned him in all directions.

His body is falling slowly.

The pillow behind his head is no longer a cold floor, but more like soft mud.

Yang Xuming's breathing was a little nervous.

His mind finally stopped distracting, but his body was falling continuously.

Falling... Falling...

In the silent fall, Yang Xuming felt that he was enveloped in a cold darkness.

I was falling in this dark mud, the air I breathed became inexplicably cold, and my whole body was cold.

It seems that winter has entered in this cemetery.

In his ears, some faint sounds began to be heard.

Those sounds are chaotic, noisy and disorderly, like the noise of audio equipment being electromagnetically disturbed, and like a group of strange evil spirits whispering.

Yang Xuming's heart shuddered slightly, and he clenched his fists subconsciously.

Because he felt invisible, there seemed to be a pair of cold hands tearing his body.

Those things seemed to want to drag him into the darker depths.

But Yang Xuming tightly tightened his body, motionless.

In his mouth, he still kept murmuring his father's name.

"Yang Jing... Yang Jing... Yang Jing..."

Yang Xuming's body was still falling slowly.

This pitch-black icy quagmire seems to have fallen to the bottom forever.

The forces that tear his body are getting bigger and bigger.

Yang Xuming even felt that his hands and feet were almost torn off by those things.

The pain made him tight.