On a night of heavy rain, Chen Qingyan was forced to take over the ancestral gong, put on a cold shroud, and lead the way for the passing Yin soldiers. Walking to the mass grave, the gong suddenly shook violently. He was horrified to find that in the pale queue, the braid of a faceless figure was tied with the dazzling red headband that his mother had worn when she disappeared. The dusty fear and the cold reality collided in the dead cemetery.
