The house was situated on the hillside. On both sides of it were lush trees, and when the mountain wind was blowing, the branches and leaves issued a rustling sound, very crisp and breezy.
In the middle of a long line of the parapet was a large gate, which had been newly painted with an excess of red, as if it had been smeared with blood.
Looking at the door, Lu Guan shivered and said, "This is also one of the weird things. The Montana rancher had painted the door, but at that time he used a layer of black paint!"
Big Markelov crunched a sunflower seed and said, "Maybe it's oxidation. Some of the black paints contain iron trioxide, iron tetroxide and so on. Once deoxidized, it turns into iron oxide, which is red."
No one has lived there for months, and the yard was overgrown with weeds, some of which grew as tall as a man's waist, and the whole looked bleak.
