The Land of Illusion was forever shrouded in a thin mist and a cold, ethereal glow that had lingered since time immemorial. Daiyu's soul drifted aimlessly, like a wisp of smoke with nowhere to go, dragged back here by the resentment lodged in her spirit, still burning within her even at death. The resentment was as icy as it was searing, born of the deafening gongs, drums, flutes, and suonas that had suddenly erupted outside the window just as the last candle in the Xiaoxiang Pavilion in Jinling was about to go out, their festive sounds enough to shatter one's heart and soul. She had heard it all clearly: Baoyu, her Baoyu, was celebrating his wedding night and taking Baochai as his bride. The celestial realm was unchanged. Towering palaces and jade halls appeared and vanished amid the clouds, while exotic flowers and precious herbs gave off their fragrance
