Chu Linfeng squatted on the eaves of the blue tile roof, twisting half a piece of moldy pea yellow with his fingers, squinting at the brightly lit ancestral hall below. The night wind wrapped in paper money and ashes hit his face, carrying a burnt smell and the unique sweetness of incense - the Chu family was doing their ancestor worship trick again today.
"Young Master, if you peek at the clan secret book again, Master Hongxiu will really break your legs." The hoarse voice of the old housekeeper came from the shadows. A few wisps of black mist emerged from the cracks in the blue bricks and wrapped around Chu Linfeng's wrist. He shook his hand, but the mist clung tighter like a living thing, leaving rust-colored traces on his skin.
