At that, the Fatty felt a shiver run through him, raising goosebumps all over. It was as if bugs were crawling on his skin. "That door... That door was made from coffin boards?" He couldn't understand how anyone could bring themselves to do that.
After a moment's thought, Lu Qin said, "In ancient times, coffins weren't considered inauspicious, and people didn't have so many taboos about them. It's said that many elderly people had their burial clothes made and their coffins prepared while they were still alive. Some even kept their coffins in a quiet corner of their homes. This was thought to carry a good meaning: it would bring blessings and longevity to their descendants, as well as promotions and wealth. That's also where the folk saying 'saving up for one's coffin' comes from."
Zhang Qizheng glanced at Lu Qin and spoke with unusual seriousness. "Even so, this is the first time I've seen anyone split open a coffin and use its lid as a door. And this is the Black Cellar Hall, sunk beneath the water."
He stressed the words "sunk beneath the water." It was clearly a hint, though he hardly needed to point it out. Jiang Cheng and the others had already thought of what they had experienced the night before—and of the place called Spring God Lake.
"That door wasn't meant for people. It was prepared for ghosts," Tang Qisheng suddenly said.
The others were taken aback. Shao Tong looked intrigued and pressed him. "Care to explain?"
Tang Qisheng ignored him and turned to look back the way they had come. The corridors along the route had been nested within one another, winding and twisting at every turn. As a researcher of folk customs, Tang Qisheng naturally knew a little about feng shui. Put simply,