Urban Legend: "Nanshan Cemetery - Part 2"

### Rot and Fingertips A Hui's heart lurched, and he quickly pulled over to the side, trying to let the other vehicle pass. But the black taxi also swerved, sticking to him like a piece of mud clinging to a rear tire. Just then, a strong, foul odor exploded in the air. It wasn't the usual smell of death; it was the scent of yellow fluid seeping from rotting flesh, of grave dirt swelling, of joss paper half-burned and then soaked by the drizzling rain, piercing deep into his nostrils. A Hui's stomach churned violently, almost making him vomit his late-night snack. He quickly twisted the throttle, making his motorcycle's engine scream. "BEEP ————!!!" The taxi behind him suddenly honked. The sound wasn't like a horn; it was like the screams of countless people being buried alive, layered and piercing his eardrums. A Hui's ears buzzed, and his vision began to darken. Suddenly, a cold, damp finger, slick with putrid water, reached through the gap at the back of his helmet and gently hooked his chin. The finger had no warmth. Its joints were like bloated paper, and its fingernails were packed with black mud. At the same time, a fishy, hot breath sprayed onto his right ear, and dozens of dry, raspy voices overlapped, speaking word by word: "HWANG — AH — HUI —" A Hui's teeth began to chatter violently. He wanted to curse, wanted to turn his head, but his cervical spine felt gripped by dozens of invisible hands simultaneously, rendering him immobile.