Shuangyuanji

In the spring of the sixth year of Zhongping in the Eastern Han Dynasty, the wind outside Luoyang City carried an indescribable smell. It's not the scent of flowers, nor is it earthy, but rather like a salted fish that has been buried in someone's backyard for three years and suddenly turned over - a bit rotten, mixed with a bit of fresh blood. Of course, Li Yan only dared to think about this metaphor in his mind. After all, it was off-putting to say it, especially since he was squatting next to a mass grave. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.