Astral Eclipse

Tsukimi is the most inconspicuous handyman of the Fuguang Sword Sect. I get up at about 1 o'clock every day, sweep fallen leaves, carry water, and get the eyes of the inner disciples. On his wrist was a string of dusty star sand bracelets, which Su Luan from the medicine hall made from the scrap bin as a gift for hair extensions. No one knew what the string of beads was. On the day when the red tide came, the water in the pond turned white and the bells did not ring. Tsukimi picked up an old tile with swallows engraved on it in the drainage ditch, dug out rusty-green copper coins from the core of the firewood, and found a few dead leaves that were not of this world among the pages under the bed board. His hair began to turn white, silver writing appeared on the inside of his wrist, and the black spots on his palms grew day by day. Something was turning over at the bottom of the pool. At night, a baby's cry came up from the ground. Where the eaves are infested with swallows, there will be a circle of indigo wet marks left the next day. Yue Jian didn't know that he was a member of the Celestial Spirit Clan - he didn't even know that the Celestial Spirit Clan still existed. But the little things that accumulated in his lapels were slowly telling him a story that he was not ready to hear. About a group of people suppressed at the bottom of the pool, about a sacrifice made more than three hundred years ago, and about a road carved on the back of a tile. The road points east. And half of the word "escape" has already grown on his wrist. The book starts from the daily life of a low-level handyman, and slowly builds a tower about memory, guilt and choice in a floating world polluted by turbidity and racial strife. "What's your name?" "Tsukimi." "What's your last name?" "I don't know." "What do you know?" "There's someone under the pool." "They're waiting for you."