dizi = bamboo flute
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Only silhouettes of highchairs could be seen in the darkness, lining up both sides of the otherwise empty main hall. But MingYu wasn't alone. He couldn't see them, but he could scent the rotting flesh, their cold, hungry breaths as they moved by him, silent in their steps, without a body for him to see. There was more than one, and they circled him like vultures. But these didn't wait for him to die. They needed his body alive and well.
MingYu scrambled up on his feet, holding his pewter staff before him to both light his way and shield him from sudden attacks. He walked carefully. Two steps towards where he assumed the side door was, then stopped.
The temperature had suddenly dropped well below zero where he stood, his breath creating wisps before him, his bones chilling and frozen in place. The thin fabric of his robes gave him no comfort, and in his cold, stiff state, he was too slow to react.
