Late at night, the lone moon hung high, pale and taut like a bowstring.
In the dim room, Zhang Fan stared at the empty box in his hand, pulled out his phone casually, and dialed Li Yishan's number.
"Sorry, the number you dialed is temporarily unavailable…"
A mechanical voice rang out, immediately followed by the grating, urgent busy tone.
"Hmm!?"
Zhang Fan's eyelids drooped as he glanced at the time—it was already past eleven.
"Already asleep?"
Li Yishan has a strange habit—generally, once midnight passes eleven o'clock, you can hardly ever reach him.
According to Li Yishan, midnight eleven o'clock was the ancient hour of Zi Shi, when the world's Yang Qi is at its weakest and Yin Qi most rampant…
It's the time for ordinary folks to sleep and for Ghost Gods to roam—good families should be in bed by then.
Zhang Fan had thought at the time that Li Yishan must have studied folklore so much that he'd gone a little mad.
"No one's picking up—I should probably go to sleep too."
