The Sound of Jade Breaking

When Shen Yusui woke up from the fire, the fire in her previous life had not yet burned out. There was smoke in my throat, a burning pain in my chest, and a barely healed scar on my palm. She turned over her left hand - it was clean, with no blackened flesh or any bone-breaking wounds. But when the fingertips of his right hand touched, severe pain exploded, like a red-hot iron nail driven into the palm of his hand, piercing through the wrist bone and burning all the way up to the shoulder socket. The shape of the scar was exactly the same as before she was burned to death in her previous life. That's not a dream. On the eve of the winter solstice when she was fifteen years old, the whole family regarded her as a madman. Her uncle had the Queen Mother's curse paper hidden under his pillow, her mother's ashes were locked in the altar, and there were still twelve hours left before the fire. When she opened the door, she saw a line of footprints on the snow at the entrance of the courtyard - stretching from her courtyard to the ancestral hall, the size was a circle larger than her own feet. The thin crust of ice on the edge of the footprints showed that the man had stood all night. She clenched the scar in her palm and stepped into the snow. My mother waited at the altar for sixteen years. This time, she finished the walk for her.