The Empty City

Once everyone had packed up, they continued on their way.

Sure enough, the official road ended ahead.

Several deep trenches crisscrossed the road. The earth dug from them lay piled along their edges, long since soaked into mud by the autumn rain.

A few chinaberry trees, each so thick it would take two people to encircle it, had been chopped through the middle and lay haphazardly across the trenches.

Their branches tangled together, and a thin layer of moss had grown over the bark.

Shen Hui did not break stride. He merely swept his sleeve forward.

The trunk blocking the middle of the road slowly slid aside, while the scattered stones and earth returned to their places of their own accord.

The trenches filled in, and the road closed up.

By the time the last person had passed, the official road behind them was as level as ever. Even the wild grass flattened beside it had straightened again.

Beyond the damaged stretch of road, the fields on either side grew increasingly desolate.

The ridges remained, and the paths between them were still faintly discernible, but wild grass as tall as half a person filled the fields.

Silvergrass and wild mugwort tangled together. Whenever the wind blew, gray-green waves rolled through them.

Now and then, a few farmhouses came into view. Their earthen walls had crumbled, and the wind had torn away most of the thatch, exposing the dark rafters beneath.

Lu Huan ran up to one farmhouse and peered inside. There was nothing there except a few dusty gray mushrooms growing in the corner.

She poked one with a twig. A puff of black smoke burst from it, startling her into a backward leap.

Sun Chengying said it was a puffball. It released smoke when crushed, and he had often