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The night temperature was very low, even I could see my own white breath. Inside the white coffin, the woman didn't look old, she was in her prime, wearing a burial shroud, with a waist like willow branches and a flat belly, not like she was pregnant. Yet there was a circle of black stitching on her neck.,And the woman's body in the white coffin showed no black spots or lividity, nor did it have a stench. Instead, there was a faint but pleasant scent of musk, as if she had died only a few days ago and probably hadn't even reached the seventh day since her death.,It was as if a pair of dead eyes were staring straight at the plug and the dried tangerine peel.。

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