The Undying Mad Blade God

The rain in Jiangnan always carries a touch of poetry and a lingering tenderness.

Puddles on the blue-stone streets reflected the outlines of oil-paper umbrellas. As Shen Qingci walked past the painted-boat dock with her medicine chest, a drop of water from the eaves happened to fall beside her temple. She raised a hand to wipe it away, her fingertips brushing the crescent-shaped birthmark behind her ear. A sudden, inexplicable shiver stirred in her heart. The feeling had been coming more and more often lately, as if something were awakening in her blood.