The moon is as cold as water, soaking every inch of bluestone in Luoyang City.
When the soles of Shen Guhong's boots ran over the third dead leaf, he finally heard the faint sound of banging. Luoyang has long been asleep in the middle of the night, and only the ghost market at the end of the West Market is still awake, like a giant beast dormant in the shadows, swallowing secrets from north to south.
