On the seventh day after the ferryman died, an unclaimed paper lantern drifted across the river at Huaixi Ferry. Every time one went out, someone died.
Gu Nanzhu, a director of folk-culture documentaries, returned to her hometown for her grandfather's funeral and saw a lantern bearing her name in the mourning hall. No one in town dared touch it. She was the only one who took it home. Her grandfather had left her a single warning: "Don't put out the lantern. Once you do, you can't take it back."
The lantern still went out. The old boatman died suddenly, and another lantern appeared on the river, one that only she could see. Following the lantern records her grandfather had left behind, she discovered that every ten years, someone without the surname Gu was ferried into the river: A Yuan, the old accountant, and many others. Someone was killing people according to the lantern records, and someone else was using ghosts and gods as an excuse to prey on people.
Should she burn the lantern, or let it keep burning?
When Gu Nanzhu uncovered the river god's covenant from a hundred years ago, she finally understood: legends can devour people, but the ones who devour people are never the legends themselves. They're those who act in the name of legend.
Perhaps her grandfather had given his life waiting for this very moment.
