Many years later, Li Si still remembered the ink-green drizzle of that morning, like a brook flowing through the fields of his heart. This was a small town called Hu’an in Guiyun Province, a southern water town. Li Si pushed open the window of the water pavilion, and a pale yellow letter swayed in the wind.

The wind blew gently. Below the water pavilion, a clay sculptor greeted the gentle radiance, skillfully molding the graceful figure of a charming woman.

On the pale yellow envelope, a cluster of grapes was painted. The grapes were transparent like pure pearls, more than fifty tightly arranged at the end of the stem. The grape in the middle of the stem displayed a unique red color, thick as blood, as if one could smell the sweet, cold, fishy scent.

Twenty-six characters were written in disorder across the fifty-some grapes. Li Si pieced the twenty-six characters together into words:

Across the distant horizon, gazing at you from afar. With every gentle breeze, can you remember this beloved?

Guiyun Province, Mo Town, Gutan Village.

—Shen Rou

Looking at the letter, the twenty-six characters arranged along a unique trajectory forming an irregular pattern, Li Si’s heart suddenly palpitated wave after wave, as if invisible shadows were gradually shrouding the depths of his heart.

‘Shen Rou?’ Li Si gripped the pale yellow letter tightly. This might be a conspiracy—no, it was very likely a conspiracy. But as long as there was even the slightest trace of news about her, even if it meant climbing mountains of blades or plunging into seas of fire, even if it meant descending into the ghostly underworld, he would definitely proceed without hesitation. Just like the promise he once made to her.

‘Mo Town, Gutan Village.’ Li Si had heard of Mo Town, but had no recollection whatsoever of Gutan Village.

After a brief silence, Li Si summoned Wu Wen. ‘Wu Wen, depart immediately.’

‘Oh, such urgency? Where to?’

‘Mo Town, Gutan Village.’