The late spring wind swept the setting sun, dyeing the dust at the end of the official road into a golden red. Shen Yanzhi was carrying a half-worn bookcase on his back, and the hem of his gown was already stained by the muddy water on the road. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the gray tile cornices standing in front of him in the dusk. That was Lanruo Temple. This temple was mentioned on the map, and another twenty miles away was Jinling City.
"Young Master, do you want to stay here?" The old man driving the cart reined in the reins, the maroon horse snorted, and the copper bell hanging on the shaft jingled. Shen Yanzhi looked at the mottled vermilion paint of the temple gate in the distance and nodded hesitantly: "That's right. It's getting late. I wonder if I can stay in the temple?" The old man spat on the ground and lowered his voice and said, "Young Master is a foreigner, right? This Lanruo Temple... Is not clean. It's better to drive a few miles ahead to the town to be safe."
Shen Yanzhi smiled, showing a bit of bookish gentleness: "It doesn't matter, I am a scholar and I don't believe in ghosts and gods." He had read poetry and books since he was a child, only believed in the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, and had always scorned the rumors of ghosts and ghosts circulating in the market. Seeing that he could not be persuaded, the old man shook his head and drove away in the car. The sound of the bell gradually faded away in the dusk, leaving only Shen Yan alone standing at the fork in the road, looking in the direction of Lanruo Temple.
