Recap: On the third day of early winter, the setting sun was like blood, staining the spirit rice paddies a dim amber.
Beneath the setting sun, the shadows of bare branches were wantonly shattered against the chilling bluestone slabs. A biting draft swept through the alley, rustling the fallen leaves as if whispering untold secrets.
Only the bronze bells at the eaves swayed leisurely in the dusk, leaving behind a few notes of desolation and steeping the twilight of the ancient city into a jar of silent wine.
Chapter 581