Zhu Qingyue spread her arms wide and strolled leisurely down the dimly lit corridor.
All the electric lights along the way had vanished without a trace, but the corridor was not completely dark. A kind of pale blue glow, like sunlight refracting through the sea, formed rings of light that swayed on the walls, flashing and disappearing.
The wooden corridor beneath her feet had weathered the test of time, with the tree rings on the planks displaying shades both dark and light, alongside traces of decay. In some areas, the boards were simply broken, stepping on them might cause a collapse.
She, like a naive child, set a rule in her heart: she must avoid those darker-colored planks, sometimes taking large strides to move forward, sometimes hopping lightly.
The girl continued to sway forward, humming an out-of-tune tune.
—That was a lullaby her mother had sung at her bedside a long time ago.
