At first, it had no shape. It was only a mass of darkness, moving endlessly like a dancer. Beyond the darkness, music sounded faint and wistful, as though something were muffling it. Then the darkness expanded and rushed toward you. As it came, every sound vanished. You drifted through one space after another, like a mosquito caught in a current of air. Then it all receded, leaving only the gentle music and the drifting, shifting darkness.
"The night was young, and so was he. But the night was sweet, and he was sour."
"The night was young, and so was he. But the night was sweet, and he was sour." - Cornell Woolrich, "The Bride Wore Black"
(This novel was co-written by Qi Huan, Jiang Shu, Yu Mo, Lengquan Gezi, Yi Su, and Ling Dang.)
The will-o'-the-wisp that travels through cities and people's hearts is invisible and deadly. Its name is greed. Come on!