In the year 2187 of the New Era, the wind in Ember Town is always smelling of sand and rust, and it hurts like a knife when it hits the face. Yun An squeezed his neck and got into the shabby archives at the west end of the town. The wooden door creaked and screamed, as if it was about to fall apart at any time. The museum was filled with the musty smell of old paper, mixed with the smell of damp mildew in the corners, which made him cough twice. "Damn it, if I stay in this damn place for a few more years, my lungs will rot." He cursed in a low voice and reached out to brush off the dust on his shoulders, revealing the white washed coarse shirt underneath.
