Smoke circled in the air of the main chambers of Wushan Abode, such a familiar sight that Xiao Fu derived a strange sense of comfort from seeing it curling out from behind the lattice screen where their godfather was currently taking a bath.
Lately, Xiao Fu's dreams had taken a haunting turn, no longer filled with sultry laughter and coy glances from knowing eyes. Instead, the smoke that was ever-present had turned into the mists that covered the West Lake in the south and their godfather had become lost in its depths, distant like the blue mountains that lingered out of reach.
In his sleep, Xiao Fu would try to get to him, clutching with desperate hands at thin air until he realised he was too far out into the water and had forgotten how to swim.
It was never a good feeling to choke awake, chest heaving with the exertion of coughing up water that didn't exist.
