The first day of the Chinese New Year.
The crisp, cold morning air presses a thick layer of mist over the lake, making West Lake look like a silver-haired maiden draped in a mysterious veil. The mist drifts out of the reeds at the edge of the lake, as smooth as silk, hazily and gently spreading over the Moonlight Valley. Frost hangs on the icy grass and a few crows peck discontentedly at the frost-covered remains of fireworks scattered on the ground. After a night of human hustle and bustle, everything has returned to the boundless silence of nature, and as the sun rises, the boundaries of the different worlds become blurred.
Yuan Ge's sound sleep is disturbed by a peculiar aroma. Puzzled, he opens his eyes, seeing a faint white smoke wafting about in the room, and hurriedly jumps out of bed.
