Hauntings, this kind of thing, you can tell right away it's fake when you hear it.
Zhang Chengjiang walked while looking around. When he saw that the trees on the surrounding mountains were quite dense, resembling a good place for committing a crime, he squinted his eyes: "What kind of ghost story is it?"
"They say that in the past, a man lost his daughter and then went up this mountain to commit suicide. As a result, this place started being haunted. It's from the fifties or sixties. Just at that time, the economy was bad, people couldn't get enough to eat, raising a child was hard. Some say, maybe, that man even killed his own daughter, who knows," said Li Quande.
Zhang Chengjiang stopped by a tree, slowly feeling the mottled bark with his palm, and asked, "Was that man from the village?"
"Not sure," said Li Quande.
"When did this story start?"
"This—" Li Quande made a thinking pose, "it should've been a long time ago."
