Come tonight as promised, and listen to the old man telling stories as usual.
The old man is good wine, let me drink with him. He said he loved to drink and eat meat when he was young, so he told me a story about eating ghost meat.
When I was in my twenties, I was drunk all day long. One day, when I was hunting in the mountains, I caught a few hares and roasted them on the fire in the grass shed. They ate and drank.
While eating and drinking, I don’t know where a beautiful woman came out to accompany me to drink and eat meat. That girl is so beautiful, she looks like a peach blossom. No, it’s more beautiful than peach blossom, it’s just peach blossom mother.
We drank and ate, and it was so refreshing.
Both of them were drunk in the middle of the night. At this time the meat is gone, the meat is eaten up.
If there is wine but no meat, it would be so terrifying.
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I am a little embarrassed.
You can’t wait for the beauties. I walked out of the grass shed to make it easier. When I took the shotgun and prepared to hunt my prey, the beauties shouted: “Don’t be busy! Come back and eat meat.”
She raised a barbecue to me.
I’m puzzled, isn’t the meat finished? Why is there still meat? I looked at her puzzled and continued to eat and drink with her.
I think, when she gets drunk, I will be warm with her, and my blood will boil when I think of this.
After a while, the meat is gone.
“I’m coming!” she said, waving a machete, clicking, cutting off one of her arms, and roasting it on the fire. I was frightened and woke up with wine. .
“You are…” I was so scared that I was sweating.
“Eat!” She stuffed my bloody arm and let me eat.
“This…” I held my arms trembling all over, and handed it to her, “This is your thing, also…you should eat it, I can’t enjoy it.”
“I have it here.” She said, with a click, cut off her leg and roasted it on the fire. I was so scared that I ran out of my body and quickly found an excuse.
After listening to the old man’s story, I asked him: “How does the smell of ghost meat?”
He smiled and said, “I was so drunk. Mud, the taste has long been forgotten, and I dare not remember it.”