Underworld Merchant

Flowers are not flowers, mist is not mist. They come at midnight, depart at dawn. How fleeting is their coming, like a spring dream? They vanish like morning clouds, nowhere to be found. Life is like a dream, a bubble, a shadow, like mist, like lightning. Speak with strength, don't listen to one side's biases. I think this book is quite good.

Why are there no comments...? That's scary.

It's pretty good, but the plot feels disjointed.