Jiangnan rain, the wind carries it across the long river. Green roof tiles fade into the shadowy willow banks, and the scent of red silk freshens the plum-scented air. It sprinkles, distinctly brisk.
Autumn rain in the mountains swept away the remnants of the day's warmth and also washed away the bloodstains left by Su Fu as he fled from the ambush. The pursuers reached near Yuncong Temple and then lost the trail.
Su Fu lay on his side on the ground, carefully discerning the movements of those people until the sound of footsteps gradually faded and disappeared before he slightly relaxed.
Ran Yan stared straight at the ceiling, not a hint of sleepiness. She turned over and peered through gaps in the bamboo curtain at Su Fu, who lay with his back to her, motionless. It was unknown whether he was asleep; the cloth bag containing the bones was still by his side.
