Chapter 87, Chapter Thirty-Four: The Fantasy Mansion
A bungalow from the last century, a madman tied up, and myself holding a wet towel.
All this information pieced together led to the final conclusion—
She traveled through time.
Wen Ting put down the towel and looked at the man on the kang (a heated brick bed).
His expression and behavior were clearly abnormal; his long hair hung down to his knees, knotted in many places; his clothes were tattered and dirty from head to toe.
Despite its filth, that face was truly stunning, like a red begonia that had been trampled on.
After glancing at him twice, Wen Ting felt a strange sense of familiarity. The man's name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite place it.
I searched my memory but couldn't find the corresponding person. It must be because the body I transmigrated into was familiar with the man.
Seeing his dazed and insane appearance, Wen Ting bent down and gently coaxed, "Do you know why I tied you up?"
The man tilted his head and blinked as he stared at her.
Wen Ting found a handful of peanuts on the table. "Tell me. If you agree, these peanuts are yours."
Those eyes hidden behind his long hair immediately followed Peanut's movements. He laughed and shouted, "I'm a madman, a jinx, I must, I must be tied up!"
After saying that, he gave her a fawning smile.
Wen Ting brought the peanuts closer and asked, "Tie them up, and then what?"
"Burn it!" he grinned, revealing his teeth. "Burn it! Burn it! Burn the sacrifice!"
Wen Ting frowned.
She saw the calendar; it was from the 1950s.
If it were a woman in front of her, she wouldn't be surprised, but it was a man, and these days men are precious.
"Burn it? How could your family bear to do that?"
Upon hearing this, the man chuckled: "Family? They're all dead! They're all dead! Burned to death, or cursed to death by me!"
There's a lot of information here, so it'll probably take some time to ask.
Wen Ting sat down on the other side of the kang table, peeled a peanut and put it on the table on his side.
Upon seeing two red peanuts, the man was overjoyed. With his hands tied, he lowered his head and began pecking at them on the table like a chick pecking at rice.
As Wen Ting peeled the skin, she asked, "Do you still remember who you are?"
He chewed on a peanut and mumbled, "Butterfly, butterfly~ I am Gong Baidie."
Gong Baidie... A strong sense of familiarity filled my mind.
An inexplicable feeling stirred within her. Wen Ting frowned. Her body was reacting so strongly; the original owner's relationship with this man must have been quite close.
"Then, who am I?" she asked, following up.
"Village chief! You're the village chief!"
"Village..." Wen Ting was stunned.
Can a woman be a village chief in this day and age?
Upon closer inspection, it seemed that there were no men's items in the room.
"That's well said." She placed the four shelled peanuts on the table and encouraged him to continue. "Tell me more, why are you here, and what is our relationship?"
This question is a bit difficult; even after eating four peanuts, Gong Baidie still couldn't answer it.
Wen Ting looked at him chewing blankly and strangely sensed a hint of cuteness in him.
"It's alright, no rush, let's ask another question." She didn't force the issue on a fool. "What kind of ritual are you talking about?"
Using the handful of peanuts in her hand, Wen Ting coaxed the man named Gong Baidie into saying a lot of things and extracted basic information from him.
The place I am in is called Wenjia Village.
It is a society with a matriarchal background.
A contagious disease is spreading in the village.
The original owner, as the village chief, planned to use a living person as a sacrifice to appease the god's anger, and the sacrifice was this beautiful madwoman.
That's strange.
The fact that he was offered as a sacrifice proves that the village chief had no feelings for him.
Why would a mad sacrificial offering about to be killed be sitting on the village chief's kang (heated brick bed)?
There was no one else in the room. When she first came in, she was holding a wet towel, and it seemed she was wiping his face.
What exactly is their relationship?
Since they have different surnames, they are probably not direct relatives. The most likely explanation is that the man was handsome and about to die, and the village chief took advantage of him.
...Wait a minute, when she came, was it an attempted attack, or was it a cleanup afterwards?
Wen Ting looked at Gong Baidie with mixed feelings. Her tattered appearance made it impossible to tell what had happened before or after.
Whether or not a relationship occurred was the original owner's business. Besides, they would never see each other again after the evening ritual, and Wen Ting was more worried about hygiene.
It's so dirty, I hope it doesn't contain any diseases.
With the situation unclear, she decided to follow the original owner's path for the time being.
It is regrettable to see someone die before your eyes, but she was not the one who caused his death; at most, she was just a failure to help.
After peeling the peanuts, Wen Ting asked gently, "Are you hungry?"
Gong Baidie nodded.
"What would you like to eat?"
"Eat, eat..." He thought for a moment, then laughed, "Lard noodles!"
“Lard noodles,” Wen Ting pondered, “soup noodles or dry noodles? Hmm, I want dry noodles.”
She decided on lunch and said to Gong Baidie, "I'll go check the kitchen. Can you stay here by yourself?"
Gong Baidie nodded.
She smiled and said, "Good girl. You promised you wouldn't leave before I get back."
She will definitely be a good person whenever she can.
Saving lives is one thing, but let's fulfill whatever else we can.
Wen Ting walked around the yard and found that the village chief had no family or relatives; he lived alone in two single-story houses.
She found the kitchen.
After moving to the county town for high school, Wen Ting rarely touched the earthen stove anymore.
By then, her younger siblings had grown up and didn't need anyone to take care of them anymore. Her mother had more free time and started to dote on her high-achieving daughter. When she came home on weekends, she didn't have to do much housework.
It wasn't until her younger siblings got married and her parents were busy entertaining their sons-in-law and daughters-in-law that she, an older unmarried woman, was once again sent to do chores.
Many people say that food cooked in this kind of earthen stove has the aroma of firewood and the smoky flavor of a wok, but she is probably ungrateful and materialistic, because the food only tastes earthy.
Wen Ting likes induction cookers and natural gas.
While boiling water, Wen Ting, facing the rising steam, calmly reviewed the current situation and her thoughts.
She felt like she had forgotten something, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just took it one step at a time.
I boiled noodles in plain water, scooped in a dollop of lard, and since I couldn't find soy sauce, I added some salt and sugar.
The village chief lived a good life; his kitchen had eggs and brown sugar, and his house even had several glass windows.
With brown sugar and eggs placed together, Wen Ting pondered in a daze that in a society where men and women are reversed, today must be a big day for Gong Baidie to eat brown sugar glutinous rice and eggs.
Make him a bowl?
This kind of thoughtfulness is almost a ridiculous joke.
Wen Ting abandoned the idea and simply added some greens and a fried egg to the noodles.
...
Gong Baidie idly swung her legs, when a hair poked her eye and made it itch.
In the same scene, Wen Ting's attitude was a little different.
She disliked him so much that she didn't want to touch him at all.
That's normal; he is indeed dirty.
The last time she appeared in my dream, she was really strange.
But why is her attitude different...?
Upon hearing footsteps, Gong Baidie immediately sat up straight.
As soon as Wen Ting entered the room, he turned his head and stared at her with bright eyes.
She placed two bowls of noodles on the kang table and praised him in a coaxing tone, "Xiaodie is so good, waiting for me so obediently."
"I'll wait for you!" Gong Baidie smiled and nuzzled towards her. "Hehe, I'll wait for you forever."
"Okay, reward our Xiaodie with a fried egg." Wen Ting dodged his touch and placed one of the bowls of noodles next to Gong Baidie.
Her gaze fell on the hemp rope on his wrist, and she suggested, "I'll loosen your hand, but you can't run around. You have to behave and listen to me, okay?"
Gong Baidie nodded: "I'll be good."
He was like a dirty, sticky dog, and Wen Ting didn't want to touch him, minimizing contact as much as possible.
Before untying the rope, she first took a new hemp rope and looped it around Gong Baidie's neck twice, then tied him to the main beam in the house.
Gong Baidie gripped the hemp rope around her neck, looking at Wen Ting with a puzzled expression.
Wen Ting smiled as if she hadn't seen anything, "Eat."
Gong Baidie had only ever seen this kind of animal-taming method used on slaves and trafficked men.
She really cared about him.
Picking up her chopsticks, Gong Baidie picked at the pillar.
Thanks to his feigned madness, he ate food made by Wen Ting for the first time.
After taking a bite, Gong Baidie put it down.
The world of Wen Ting is so rich in resources that most people, including her, lack respect for food.
To put it bluntly, she completely ruined the bowl of noodles and the lard.
"Is it delicious?" She could even manage to put on a kind and loving expression.
With just that one bite, Gong Baidie was almost vomiting from the pungent smell of the cold lard.
Although I've seen how rough the bento boxes she makes for herself are, how could she make them even worse than the company cafeteria's?
Gong Baidie twisted the chopsticks, and one of them rolled out of her hand.
He sucked on his finger, staring blankly at the remaining chopstick, at a loss for what to do.
Wen Ting's eye twitched. "Don't you know how to use chopsticks?"
Gong Baidie looked back innocently.
Wen Ting picked up the dropped chopsticks, didn't even wipe off the dust, and stuffed them back into his hand, saying, "Learn from me, learn my movements."
She picked up a few noodles, and Gong Baidie stared at her without moving.
Wen Ting lowered the difficulty, holding the chopsticks together in her hand and twirling the noodles like she was eating spaghetti: "How about this? Is this okay?"
He's a fool; he just pretends to be a fool and doesn't do anything.
Wen Ting looked at the fool in front of her with a deep gaze; there was absolutely no way she would feed him by hand.
After thinking for a moment, she found a pair of scissors, cut all the noodles in Gong Baidie's bowl into small pieces, and handed him a spoon. "Go ahead and scoop them up, you know how to do this, right?"
Gong Baidie blinked, and under Wen Ting's constant prompting, awkwardly scooped up a spoonful of crumbly paste and put it in her mouth.
Wen Ting breathed a sigh of relief, but the next moment, with a "poof," white bits of powder sprayed all over her face.
Soaked noodles mixed with saliva slid and twisted off her face.
The instigator slammed his fist on the table and laughed heartily.
He was overjoyed and pointed at her face, shouting, "Maggots! Maggots! So many maggots!"
Wen Ting picked up the wet towel next to her, gritted her teeth, and wiped her face with trembling hands.
Segments of soft white noodles fell into the basin of water, bobbing and swaying, looking even more like maggots.
She rushed to the kitchen, only to realize there was no tap, so she hurriedly went to the yard to fetch water.
After squatting by the well and changing the water three times, Wen Ting finally managed to catch her breath.
After finally managing to tidy herself up, she threw down the towel and went back to settle accounts with the person. When she returned to the room, she saw the dirty little madman sitting on the kang (a heated brick bed), smiling foolishly at her.
She had a silly, innocent smile on her face.
Wen Ting held her forehead.
Even if she scolds him, he won't understand.
She comforted herself, reminding herself that she had worked for many years and had experienced far more anger than this.
Considering he wouldn't live past today, she endured it.
After the sun had completely set, someone came looking for Wen Ting.
"Village Chief, everything is ready, hurry up." A middle-aged woman knocked on the door and, seeing Gong Baidie playing with peanuts inside, exclaimed in surprise, "Why is this madwoman still here?"
"Take him away now?" Wen Ting asked. "Fine, go ahead and take him away."
"Where to take him?" The woman scratched her head. "Take him back to his house? It's probably too late. Let's go to the ancestral rites first."
Wen Ting was taken aback. What did this mean? Wasn't Gong Baidie a sacrificial offering?
She glanced suspiciously at Gong Baidie, who was kneading peanuts. The man, dressed in tattered clothes, was lying on the table, grinning foolishly at the peanuts.
Wen Ting composed herself and followed the woman to the sacrificial ceremony.
She fell silent when she saw people tied to the fire as sacrifices.
Ajak.
The offerings she was preparing to burn as a sacrifice to heaven were game characters she had drawn.
Should we save her or not?
From a game perspective, Ajak, who appears here, must be an important character.
Just as Wen Ting was about to speak, she turned around and met Ajak's hateful gaze.
He stared intently at her, wishing he could drink her blood and devour her flesh. If her mouth hadn't been gagged, Wen Ting had no doubt that he would have torn a piece of flesh from her body.
That's dangerous.
Forget it, she doesn't have a redemption system or a healing ray of sunshine.
As the ceremony was about to begin, Wen Ting heard sighs coming from below.
“He is a priest after all…” “As a priest, he is unwilling to serve the Butterfly Fairy. The village chief is right. It must be because of his blasphemy that we are suffering.”
"It's such a waste to trade Ajak for that madman."
Wen Ting listened to all these rumors and pieced together what had happened:
The original offering was Gong Baidie, but the village chief temporarily replaced him with Ajia Ke because he believed that Ajia Ke was disrespectful to the gods.
This is illogical.
In a place where such extreme measures are taken, such as human sacrifice, the priest must hold an extremely high position. How could the village chief possibly sacrifice the priest to the heavens?
A sigh came from the side: "Ajak was the last of the bloodline. He's gone. Who will be the next priest?"
Wen Ting suddenly understood.
It seems that there has been a clash between political and divine authority here. With the last priest gone, power will fall into the hands of the village chief alone.
It's unclear whether this village chief simply wants to seize real power or wants to use superstition to dispel superstition and eliminate the village's religious culture.
In any case, the priests who supported human sacrifice were probably no good, and Wen Ting had no intention of saving Ajak.
She watched as the boy was burned to death. No matter how justified the reason, this was still the first time Wen Ting had witnessed murder, yet she felt little fear.
She couldn't help but feel a little alarmed. Had she been assimilated by this cannibalistic world, or was she just born so cold-blooded?
After this thought popped into her head, she felt a familiar sense of disorientation, as if she had questioned herself in the past.
When was it again...?
Everything in this world seemed familiar to Wen Ting.
She couldn't tell if this feeling was her own or a remnant from the original owner.
Using this sense of familiarity, she quickly integrated into life in the other world.
After the sacrificial ceremony ended, Wen Ting immediately had Gong Baidie taken away.
She didn't care where he lived or how he would live alone in the future; it was none of her business. Right now, she had too many things to do.
Wen Ting got a general understanding of her own situation and that of the village, paying particular attention to information regarding the strange disease.
The village worships a deity called the Butterfly Fairy, and whenever there are natural disasters or man-made calamities, the village makes offerings to the Butterfly Fairy.
This disease came on fiercely, causing patients to vomit and have diarrhea, and die from dehydration within a few days. If one person gets sick, the whole family will soon be infected.
When Wen Ting thought of this illness, the first thing that came to mind was cholera. Even if it wasn't, most intestinal infectious diseases are transmitted through the mouth.
The villagers mostly eat cooked food and drink boiled water, so how did this disease spread?
Wearing a homemade mask, Wen Ting walked around the village twice and found the reason—
In the days before flush toilets and chemical fertilizers, villagers carried their own buckets of manure to fertilize the fields every day.
Most vegetables are cooked at high temperatures, but raw garlic, scallions, and radishes are still eaten raw; after watering the fields, farmers casually pull out a steamed bun or cornbread and start eating.
Having found the cause of the illness, Wen Ting immediately issued a ban in the village.
She falsely claimed to be a divine oracle, saying that the Butterfly Fairy had received Ajak's soul, was very pleased with Wenting, and told her how to get rid of the illness.
To ensure the villagers strictly adhered to the rules, she added several additional rules, such as "recite the prayer three times a day" and "the downstream water is dirty, and anyone who comes into contact with it will be rejected by the butterfly fairy."
Within a month, the condition had greatly improved.
Without the priest, the villagers respected Wen Ting even more. She also made new rules to collect grain from the whole village in the name of offering to the Butterfly Fairy. Although she was a rural resident, she was not good at gardening and would starve to death if she had to farm.
As the epidemic receded, the village gradually returned to life.
This serious illness drastically reduced the village's population. As soon as the life-threatening cloud was lifted, couples who lost their children rushed to have offspring, and people who lost their partners began to look for new partners. For a time, weddings and happy events were held one after another.
As the village chief, Wen Ting attended banquets all summer long and gave more speeches on stage than she did at the company.
She cooperated well; a thriving population and increased labor force were good things for her.
By early winter, the first batch of newborns appeared, but most of them died, and the rest were emaciated.
This mortality rate is considered normal even by today's standards.
After two years of suffering from illness and disease, the father who was pregnant with the child was emaciated and pale, so the child was unlikely to survive.
Without breast milk or supplies, the survivors and the hard-won newborns both needed to stay alive.
Wen Ting was troubled and racked her brains for a solution.
Increased productivity does not happen overnight; soon, the infant mortality rate for male babies rose significantly.
Wen Ting tried to avoid places like wells and ditches, worried about seeing unpleasant abandoned items.
But she didn't see a single abandoned baby until the Lunar New Year. They were either born without a cry or died without a trace, and she didn't know how their parents had dealt with them.
Strangely, the infant mortality rate for boys soared, while the survival rate for girls improved.
As Wen Ting passed by a house, the grandfather was holding a baby in the yard, basking in the sun. The three-month-old baby girl giggled at her.
She looked much healthier than at the full moon celebration, and Wen Ting smiled in response.
After walking half a mile, the image of the baby girl's plump, fair skin under the sunlight flashed into my mind.
Her little mouth, which was open, had no teeth yet, only a mouthful of soft, tender red flesh.
The deep winter wind blew in her face, and that fresh red color kept replaying in her mind.
Wen Ting was stunned, unable to move an inch.
She suddenly covered her mouth, desperately suppressing the vomit that was rising in her throat.
For the first time since she transmigrated, she felt unwell.
Wenjia Village is extremely remote, nestled among mountains, and the neighboring town is equally poor and underdeveloped.
Wen Ting has been here for so long, she has investigated the village and gone out to see the world. Under the current conditions, she simply cannot lead the whole village to prosperity like the heroine in the historical novel.
She was powerless and unable to improve the situation, and could only repeatedly feel grateful for her matriarchal background and her gender.
The horrifying nausea slowly subsided, and she exhaled a breath of stale air as she walked forward.
Suddenly, a soft, intermittent humming came from the side, with silly laughter interspersed between the words.
Wen Ting had heard this song several times.
She walked around the wall of piled firewood and across the path saw the Gong family's house.
Unlike the fences and walls of most houses in Wenjia Village, the walls of the Gong family's house were made of bricks and stones.
The fire that wiped out the entire family scorched the walls black, and several sections collapsed, revealing gaps.
From Wen Ting's perspective, she could see the madman in the courtyard through the blackened hole.
Half a year had passed, and he was still wearing that tattered red dress, his hair even longer than when she had transmigrated, fluttering in the wind with his clothes.
A thin layer of snow had accumulated on the eaves. He reached out and grasped a charred branch, which resembled a plum blossom.
His limbs, visible beneath the red dress, were pale and grayish-blue, so thin they were almost bony. His lips were bruised and purple from the cold, yet he smiled and swayed leisurely.
According to villagers, the Gong family was burned to death before the cholera outbreak, and Gong Baidie went insane after the house was burned down.
Last winter, the village's economic situation wasn't so bad, and Gong Baidie barely managed to survive.
What about this winter?
As Wen Ting listened to the fragmented melody, he laughed, and his long hair swayed with the hem of his clothes. It was neither black nor red, but a mixture of the two colors. There was blood on his black hair and stains on his red dress.
She stared for a while, and the man in the yard noticed her gaze and slowly turned his head away.
Those dark phoenix eyes saw Wen Ting through the broken wall hole and immediately lit up with a blazing light.
He ran over, lay down over the breach, stretched his neck out, and smiled at Wen Ting, shouting, "Love me! Love me, love me!"
Wen Ting hesitated for a moment, then walked over and stood two meters away from him.
As she drew closer, Gong Baidie's smile grew even brighter. He gripped the broken bricks and repeatedly shouted, "Love me, hehe...you love me, you love me."
He was truly beautiful. The dark ruins served as a frame for suffering, highlighting his dirty, beautiful face as a tragic picture.
"Has someone come looking for you?" Wen Ting asked curiously.
Gong Baidie looked blank for a moment before smiling and nodding, "Yes."
"woman?"
The madman grinned foolishly, "Women, men, women and men."
Wen Ting was stunned.
Is the local culture really this unrestrained?
"You love me, so you've come too." He chuckled softly, innocent and carefree. "You've come to see me too?"
"I was just passing by," Wen Ting said. "Seeing that you're still alive, I'm leaving."
"Love me! Love me!" he cried out urgently, pointing behind him and invitingly, "There are butterflies, look, look!"
Are there still butterflies this season?
Wen Ting looked puzzled, took two steps to the side to avoid Gong Baidie, and looked into the courtyard.
She saw the branch he had been holding earlier, which came from a charred plum tree.
Frost and snow covered the ground, the tree was charred black, yet its branches were covered with dark red plum blossoms.
The plum blossoms weighed heavily on the branches, not only blooming on the branches but also covering the trunk, densely packed, their red color oppressive and strangely indescribable.
Suddenly, several red plum blossoms began to move!
Wen Ting narrowed her eyes and was suddenly startled. The flowers on the tree were not plum blossoms, but rather a cluster of red butterflies!
"Butterflies, butterflies!" Gong Baidie pointed to the tree in the yard and giggled lightly, "Come see the butterflies!"
His laughter inexplicably overlapped with that of the baby girl from before.
Wen Ting stared blankly at the dense swarm of butterflies fluttering their wings on the tree. A chill ran down her spine, and her heart felt heavy.
In the dead of winter, so many butterflies crowded on a withered tree; this eerie sight made her instinctively want to avoid it.
Taking two steps back, Wen Ting turned to leave, but behind her came Gong Baidie's anxious and puzzled voice pleading for her to stay: "Butterflies! Look at the butterflies! So many butterflies!"
He pointed intently at the tree, and as they got closer, Wen Ting noticed several horizontal scars on his exposed wrist.
She ignored the wounds and quickly moved away from the eerie tree.
"Love me, love me!" The calls from behind grew more urgent, shouting repeatedly, "It's a butterfly—love me!"
Feeling uneasy, Wen Ting was inexplicably terrified by the call. Without turning her head, she quickened her pace and eventually started running.
After running all the way home, Wen Ting leaned against the door, panting.
The image of a tree full of trembling butterflies lingers in my mind, while the madman's incoherent singing echoes in my ears.
Her heart was pounding, and every time she saw Gong Baidie, she felt a mix of emotions.
Is this the village chief's lingering affection?
But the village chief's life had no connection with Gong Baidie, so why was he so obsessed with her?
As I was pondering some unfounded guesses, there was a sudden knock on the door behind me.
The tremor came from the door, as if it had struck her spine directly. Wen Ting jolted and turned around abruptly, shouting, "Who's there!"
"Village chief," a familiar voice from outside the door called out, "it's us."
Without a peephole, Wen Ting peered through the crack in the door for a while, making sure that the person outside was someone she knew before opening the door.
"What's up?"
The sallow-faced woman, accompanied by her husband and carrying a paper package, smiled shyly and ingratiatingly at Wen Ting: "It's almost the Little New Year, this is just a small token of our appreciation."
Wen Ting took it and felt out that there were two steamed buns inside the paper package.
After she accepted the gift, the couple quickly asked, "Have you been dreaming of the Butterfly Fairy again lately?"
The word "butterfly" immediately reminded Wen Ting of the tree full of butterflies.
Feeling a bit unwell in her stomach, she heard them say awkwardly, "Our little girl has had a fever for two days. If you dream about her, could you please say hello to the Butterfly Fairy for us?"
“Okay,” she nodded, “I will.”
The two of them immediately laughed, "Thank you for your trouble."
After they left, Wen Ting returned to the house and locked the door.
It was getting late, and she was too lazy to start a fire and cook, so she decided to just make do with the steamed buns.
Opening the paper package, two gray, coarse-textured steamed buns lay inside.
The dark dough is dotted with red dots, a custom made for festivals, which Wen Ting ate when she was a child.
The red-dot steamed buns she ate were dotted with red yeast rice and brown sugar, giving them a bright pinkish hue. However, the two red dots were a deep, dark color, leading her to guess that rouge had been used.
Not only was the color dark, but the red dots were also large, about the size of a thumbnail.
Wen Ting took a bite.
After biting down, her nose touched the red dot, and she suddenly smelled a faint fishy smell.
Wen Ting was taken aback, then leaned closer to the red dot and sniffed it carefully.
In an instant, the image of that pale, thin wrist flashed into her mind.
It peeked out from the tattered red dress, bearing scars of varying depths, some new and some old.
The indistinct melody, with its unclear lyrics and tune, lingered in my ears, accompanied by the madman's hysterical laughter; the intertwined sounds echoed in the dark village night.
Fresh snow hangs on the eaves; beneath the snow lies scorched earth.
His black hair was stained with blood, his red dress was stained, and he wandered day and night like a ghost among the broken walls and ruins.
-----------------------
Author's Note: Farming stories are heartwarming, but too bland. To keep Wen Ting's character alive, Gong Baidie sacrificed the good and added a touch of horror, turning it into a heart-pounding farming story!
DoKiDoKi~[heart]
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