I Save the World by Destroying Love Letters for the Gods

Lu Chuan makes a living scraping ink in the borderlands. He had planned to save enough for the fare and retire in a wooden cabin by a sea that didn’t smell of sour mash. But the coffinwood chest his old superior left in his care held no valuables, only a doll-like girl who shed scraps of paper at the slightest touch. She said she was an unfinished fragment of a god’s scripture. Her fingertips were pale, and she was so hungry she could barely stand it. Unless she absorbed some of the warmth of human emotions, the wind would soon scatter her into scraps. To get back the half-spoonful of calming dew he’d paid for her, Lu Chuan was forced to take this walking IOU on the road. With a rickety walnut-wood covered wagon, two skinny pack beasts chewing roots, and a swaying comma-shaped lantern, they slowly crossed damp wastelands and abandoned stations, carrying a few final words, never spoken in time, to a world on the verge of falling apart.