That day, the sun set and never rose again...

In the land of Eternal Night, the world was shrouded in darkness, as though an unfathomable abyss sought to devour everything.

Daylight had long become a thing of the past, reduced to nothing but legend.

Across the vast expanse of frozen earth, bitter winds howled while blizzards raged, piling snow half a person high on the ground.

The village of Shuangshu was half-buried under the snow.

It was a small settlement with only forty or fifty households, as if forgotten by time. The rows of houses appeared as nothing more than vague silhouettes in the endless night.

Amid the howling wind, many rooftops creaked and swayed, as though they were on the verge of being torn away.

Qin Ming was weak, roused from his slumber by hunger. His stomach growled relentlessly, and the mere thought of food—any food—made his mouth water.

It didn't matter if it was steaming meat or fresh fruit. Even imagining a piece of hard, stale bread filled his mouth with an illusory sweetness and moisture.

The freezing cold outside was matched only by the stifling darkness within the room, both suffocating and oppressive.

Qin Ming tightened the tattered quilt around himself. Even the warmth of the heated brick bed could not stave off the cold seeping in from outside. The air he breathed in felt like shards of ice scraping through his lungs, stinging him.

He forced himself not to think about food anymore. Otherwise, the sour bile rising in his throat would soon spill out.

Calming his mind slightly, he suddenly realized something: his head felt unusually clear. He was no longer groggy and dazed like before. Could it be that the "strange illness" was finally receding?

Despite being famished and frozen, this glimpse of recovery from his prolonged illness lit a spark in his eyes. He began to look forward to the coming of "Shallow Night."

As time passed, the wind gradually subsided, and the blizzard's flurry of snowflakes lessened to a sparse drift.

From the neighboring courtyard came sounds of movement and hushed conversation. It was a young couple—Lu Ze and Liang Wanqing.

"Where are you going? Are you bringing food to Qin Ming again?" Liang Wanqing's voice grew sharper.

"He's just a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boy, all alone and recovering from a severe illness. He's pitiful," Lu Ze replied quietly.

"Do you realize we barely have enough food for ourselves? If this keeps up, our two children will go hungry!" Liang Wanqing's voice trembled with emotion.

"The blizzard has stopped. There will be a way to solve this," Lu Ze said, gazing into the inky darkness.

...

Hearing their argument, Qin Ming felt a pang of guilt. He no longer wanted to accept Lu Ze's kindness; in these hard times, everyone was struggling.

He rose from the heated bed and dressed. Even with the cotton clothes on, the cold still bit at him, so he dug out an old animal-skin coat from the cabinet and wrapped it around himself. In the pitch-black room, he paced around and rubbed his hands together to stay warm.

Since his illness, his tall frame had grown thin, and the long black hair draping over his shoulders had lost some of its luster. His pale face was marked by illness, yet his bright, clear eyes were full of spirit. Despite his frailty, there was a resolute air about him.

A month earlier, he had barely escaped from the mountains, frostbitten and near death. His companions had all perished on the day of their return.

Qin Ming had been plagued by the "strange illness," and many believed he would not survive.

But he had endured, and now, he was clearly improving.

Thinking back to the unknown horrors in the mountains, he still felt a lingering fear.

Outside, the darkness began to change, like ink thinning in water—it was Shallow Night, the era's equivalent of "daytime."

The shift was subtle. The world remained shrouded in night, though visibility improved slightly, enough to make out closer shapes.

The courtyard gate creaked open, and Lu Ze appeared, sturdy and strong. With a shovel in hand, he cleared a path through the piled snow, swiftly reaching Qin Ming's door.

Qin Ming pushed open the snow-sealed door and called out, "Brother Lu."

Lu Ze carried a cloth bag that emitted a faint light. He poured its contents into a stone basin in the courtyard: a pile of red-glowing stones clattered down, their light cutting through the night.

These were "Sunstones", their name carrying humanity's longing for better days. For now, they illuminated the courtyard.

Lu Ze looked surprised. "Xiao Qin, you seem much better."

Qin Ming invited him inside and explained his condition. He was no longer dazed and believed he was recovering.

Lu Ze praised his resilience, marveling at how he had survived the "strange illness" from the mountains. He poured the remaining glowing stones into a copper basin in the room, instantly brightening the space.

Sunstones were drawn from the "Fire Spring." Though they emitted fiery radiance, they were far from warm, and their glow would fade after a few hours, requiring them to be "nurtured" in the Fire Spring again.

"Here, take this," Lu Ze handed over a food box.

Qin Ming had run out of provisions days ago, relying solely on Lu Ze's aid. But after overhearing the couple's argument, he felt deeply ashamed.

"Eat it while it's hot," Lu Ze urged. He was a straightforward man who valued gratitude. Once, he had gotten lost in the pitch-black forest, and it was Qin Ming's repeated calls that had guided him back to safety.

Looking at the steaming black bread, Qin Ming's hunger surged again.

"Why are you just standing there? You won't recover if you starve yourself," Lu Ze said, placing the box in his hands.

"Brother Lu!" In the end, Qin Ming did not refuse. He tore off a piece of the coarse bread and devoured it, savoring its rough texture as though it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

"Call me if you need anything," Lu Ze said before leaving.

With the hunger sated, Qin Ming felt even better. His body's discomfort was fading, and he was certain his illness was leaving him.

He decided to go outside for a walk.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, he stepped into the street. The cold was biting, and his breath turned to mist.

During Shallow Night, the village streets were faintly lit by the crimson glow of Sunstones.

"Qin Ming, are you feeling better?" someone called out.

"Let me see!" An elderly woman, Granny Zhou, grabbed his arm and examined him carefully.

Qin Ming smiled and reassured her.

The neighbors were astonished. The strange illness... healed?

"Xiao Qin, even if you're feeling better, don't wander too far. It's dangerous outside," Granny Zhou warned, her gaze shifting toward the black expanse beyond the village.

Qin Ming noticed her frailty; she looked thin and pale, barely able to stand against the wind.

After the others had dispersed, Granny Zhou carefully pulled a few dried potato slices from her pocket and pressed them into Qin Ming's hand.

Qin Ming quickly returned them, unwilling to take food from someone who clearly needed it more.

The village paths had been partially cleared, but there was still enough snow to crunch underfoot. Breathing out white mist, Qin Ming continued onward.

At the village's edge, he paused.

In front of a large courtyard, a black goat—shoulder-high to a grown man—was pulling a millstone, grinding mutated wheat into powder.

Not everyone was starving. The family at the village edge clearly fared better.

Qin Ming's gaze lingered on the goat. He hadn't eaten meat in a long time, and his craving was undeniable.

"Xiao Qin, you've recovered? Surviving such an ordeal means good fortune awaits you," said a burly man named Yang Yongqing.

"Uncle Yang, you're impressive, taking care of your whole family in times like these," Qin Ming replied politely.

After a brief chat, Qin Ming moved on toward the Fire Spring, its fiery glow lighting the way.

The spring was a stone pool surrounded by knee-high walls. Though it was nearly dry in this harsh season, flames still flickered faintly within.

In the center of the spring stood two trees—one with pitch-black leaves, the other with snow-white foliage. These trees, evergreen in the harshest winter, were the source of the village's name: Shuangshu Village—the Village of Two Trees.