A damp scent invaded his nostrils.
Zheng Qing shivered, opening his eyes.
Within his sight were a thin white mist, a criss-cross of branches, and a golden moon in the pitch-black sky. Below, an imposing coldness had already seeped through his loose robe, bringing a thoroughly chilling sensation.
What time is it now?
Where am I?
He struggled to get up, looking around in panic. He fumbled around his body for a while but didn't find the familiar grey cloth bag. Even the amulet hanging around his neck and the badges pinned to his chest were all gone.
A sense of unease welled up in him.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
The breath he exhaled was like a white ribbon, wrapping up the wetness and chilliness in the air, and rolling back into his lungs.
He recognized the familiar scene before him.
It was Lin Zhong Lake in front of him.
He was standing at the end of the shady, cobblestone path leading to the lakeshore.
