No woman in the Lin family lives past the age of twenty-eight.
They all die in front of a mirror, their faces peaceful, as if they chose to die.
Lin Jianqiu is the last daughter of the Lin family.
On the eve of her twenty-eighth birthday, the ancestral bronze mirror shatters for no reason. Her reflection says three words:
“Come inside.”
She goes in.
There, she finds a child bride who has wandered for a hundred years through an old Republic-era mansion, paper figures that quietly replace the living when wedding and funeral processions collide and bring misfortune, an infant spirit deep in a brick kiln, forever waiting for its mother, and ghosts on a theater stage, endlessly taking their final bow.
Every “ruin” is a forgotten tragedy.
Every time she clears a stage, she must face a truth:
Some horrors do not come from inside the mirror, but from in front of it.
She thinks she is fighting to survive. Later, she discovers that someone is “feeding” these horrors.
Later still, she learns that she, too, has become “nourishment.”
With a hundred days left, deep in the mirror ruins, she is searching for more than a way out.
She is also searching for the person smiling at her from the other side of the mirror.
