Small Thousand Worlds: Lu Jiuchen Chapter

The rain in Shendu is lead-grey, falling on the centuries-old bluestone slabs on Zhuque Street, making no sound at all, leaving only a layer of cold light like grease. The sedan chair of the Minister of Industry was in front, and I followed three steps behind holding an old umbrella. The umbrella ribs are made of bitter bamboo from Xuechuan. Every time I take a step, they make a subtle "squeaking" sound, just like the sound of rats in a dry well gnawing at the bones of our relatives. "Three days in the well, what I saw was not darkness." "It's how darkness weaves into lines of light..."