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.,All eyes beheld a crowd clad in homespun tunics, their waists cinched with pale cloth belts. Both men and women sported long hair, styled into loose topknots atop their heads. The faces of the elder men bore etchings of hardship deeper than the yellow earth itself.。