The night was deep.
A Blood Moon hung in the sky.
The cold wind, carrying particles of sleet, pelted the window lattice, making a soft RUSTLING sound. It was as if countless icy hands were knocking on the door from outside.
Chu Fan, wrapped in a worn, ink-black cotton robe, sat alone at the wooden table by the window, flipping through a scroll in his hands.
On the table sat a green-glazed oil lamp. Its flame flickered in the draft, stretching his thin shadow long across the mottled wall.
The opened *Qing Province Chronicles* had pages that were long yellowed and brittle, their corners stained with a few spots of brown mildew.
To the right of the table lay another book, the *Cyan Yang County Chronicles*, just as tattered and yellowed.
These books from the Seven Stars Gang's Library Pavilion had likely been read by countless people.
Chu Fan lowered his gaze, his brow furrowing unconsciously as he slowly closed the *Qing Province Chronicles*.
