"This place boasts towering mountains and lofty ridges; its people have passed down poetry, books, rites, and propriety through the generations." These are the lines of a couplet at either end of the Li ancestral hall's walls.
Today the towering mountains and lofty ridges remain, but poetry, books, rites, and propriety are nowhere to be seen. The family tradition has long since been lost, and who is left of its people? All that remains is this empty courtyard, standing alone amid the vast wilderness on the border between Hubei and Chongqing, like an ancient wonder left behind for people to mourn.
-- The Watchers of Dashuijing
Whose bones lie buried in the great ancestral hall deep in the Land of Abundance, and what chapter of mortal life lies buried there?
What if there are ten thousand kinds in the world, but I happen to love only your kind?
Your name is a spell that belongs to me, a shade of green that no garden or forest can confine.
I'm terrible at writing blurbs. The idea came from Mr. Yefu's The Watchers of the Great Crystal. I'm a senior in high school. I'll finish this story after graduation. Updates in between will be sporadic. Please understand.
