"My Red Lantern is better looking than yours." The little girl pointed at the pale lantern.
After he finished speaking, he held his head and walked forward with a smile.
"Granny, let me borrow your fire. My lanterns are more festive." After she finished speaking, she put the blood-red head into the White Lantern. Before the old woman could react, she heard a sharp and ear-piercing scream.
It resounded throughout the entire mass grave.
As soon as the head was put in, it began to burn with crackling sounds.
Jiang huailu tiptoed to lift the lantern, grabbed the long braid, and found a stick to tie it on the top of the mountain.
The little girl laughed innocently with the red light of the fire and the shrill screams in her ears.
"This is more festive. Granny, your lantern isn't as pretty as mine. Look, I have a landscape painting on it. " He pointed at the bloody tears flowing from the two bloody holes.
