As February came to an end, winter had given way to spring, and the thick, heavy clouds in the sky had significantly dissipated, exposing the deep and enchanting blue sky. The timid sun peeked out, casting brilliant sunlight on the earth, driving away some of the darkness. The heavy snow gradually melted away, revealing patches of moist soil, from which resilient blades of grass stubbornly pried their way out.
In the hazy green mountains, the sparse and snowy ground showed vague footprints, which, along with the melted snow, gradually disappeared. At the end of the mountain trail were countless gravestones overgrown with moss.
In front of a certain gravestone stood a large, rotting zombie, facing the illegible name on the gravestone, its mouth open in a faint cry, as if it were weeping or lamenting.
A worn and dirty piece of white paper was blown by the wind and held fast to its face, but was soon lifted up several yards high by a gust of wind.
