A single, painted hand shot out from the ground, grabbing onto the ankle with a desperate force, as if grasping at a lifeline. A shattering sound echoed, followed by a frantic cry: "Save me... save me...",There is no battlefield, no bloodshed, yet he lies on the cool rattan chairs in the courtyard of his mansion. The small courtyard is serene and peaceful.,There's a saying in Beijing to describe this street of pleasure: "Drunkenly Reclining Amidst Wind and Moon, Discussing Romantic Tales; A Half-Step into the Red House is Already Immoral."。