In this city, some old things never leave.
They sleep in the fog at the midnight station, hidden in the gaps between the words in the notes of the Republic of China, and attached to every ancient object stained with obsession.
I wish Li An could see them.
When she was repairing ancient books, when she touched old things, when she was dragged into the thick fog of Xilin Road by a hot copper coin.
Shen Ji is the master of Wangchuan Pavilion and the last night watchman.
He exchanges memory for power, and uses existence to guard Yin and Yang. He said she was a sacrifice, but he didn't say that the copper coin was the life he bought for her ten years ago in exchange for his half-soul.
——
I use a hundred years of loneliness as my ink to write a love letter that no one can read.
Every word dissipates in the River of Forgetfulness, and every sentence sinks into the eternal night.
Until the temperature of your fingertips touches the yellowed paper,
Until you read the phrase "Er Blossom Courtyard, the years are peaceful".
Zhu Li'an doesn't know,
The sentences she read to the shadows every morning,
It's a contract written by Silent Hands a hundred years ago.
Intention: "... Constant thoughts can move ghosts and gods."