The night temperature was very low, even I could see my own white breath. Inside the white coffin, the woman didn't look old, she was in her prime, wearing a burial shroud, with a waist like willow branches and a flat belly, not like she was pregnant. Yet there was a circle of black stitching on her neck.,And the woman's body in the white coffin showed no black spots or lividity, nor did it have a stench. Instead, there was a faint but pleasant scent of musk, as if she had died only a few days ago and probably hadn't even reached the seventh day since her death.,Meow, under the night on the grave mound, I don't know from which grass pile it sprang out a head of black hair, hungry green-eyed feral cat actually ran to the grave mound to find corpses to eat.。