During the third year of Xianchun's reign in Qiantang, the hot air was like a net soaked in oil, covering the bluestone road airtightly. The last thing Yuwen Dae remembered was the customer in front of the bank counter pointing at the statement and roaring, and the unfinished glass of iced Americano that was bitterly cold and bitter. When he opened his eyes again, the dazzling sunlight turned into a dim oil lamp, and what lingered on his nose was not the cold wind from the central air conditioner, but a strange smell mixed with the smell of musty, herbal and light incense.
