Exploring the Bone Tower at Night: Chang'an Ghost Curse

About This Novel

Autumn in Chang'an comes extremely early and heavy this year. The fog is not white, but gray, with a fishy smell mixed with rust and wet soil. It presses heavily on the rows of roof tiles and seeps into the crisscrossing streets. The sun turned into a blurry, pale halo, with no light coming through, and the whole city was immersed in a thick, flowing gloom. Even on Zhuque Street, which is usually the noisiest, the sounds of people and cars and horses are muffled, like a layer of water-soaked quilt. Yizhuang is in the most secluded corner of Guangdefang, with dead grass on the wall shivering in the fog. When Shen Yan pushed open the creaking heavy wooden door, a colder and heavier breath hit his face, mixed with inferior incense and some indescribable smell of slow decay of things. He was usually expressionless, like a moving blue brick in this yizhuang, but today, there was a slight trace of stasis in his eyes that had been calm all year round. The mortuary bed was covered with white linen. The silhouette under the cloth is a person.

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