又发生了文档崩溃的惨剧，不过本身今天的时间也安排得太紧了，是我大意了。

《淫月夜》还剩最后一更，不想为了赶时间草草了事，干脆留足时间，明天再更新吧，抱歉～合掌～

以下凑字数：

The graveyard is peaceful， too. Most of the plots were filled a long， long time ago， and now even the grandchildren of those who lie here have died. Visitors are rare， and the few who come visit a single， unimpressive grave.

Some of the graves have large monuments. One has a statue on top of it， of a tall man dressed like a steamer pilot， holding a portion of a wheel and gazing out into the distance. Several have colorful accounts of life and death on the river inscribed on their tombstones， telling how they died in a boiler explosion， or the war， or by drowning. But the visitors come to none of these. The grave they seek out is relatively plain. The stone has seen a hundred years of weathering， but it has held up well. The words chiseled into it are plainly readable: a name， some dates， and two lines of poetry.

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