The desert wind was dry and coarse, carrying fine grains of sand that stung faintly as they struck the face. Shen Xiu and Liu Qingyan flew forward along the traces of an ancient trade route. Beneath them lay rolling dunes, like frozen ocean waves, casting long shadows beneath the sun. Between the dunes, they occasionally saw ruined beacon towers and camel bones half-buried in the yellow sand—traces left behind by merchants of old, telling of the prosperity and hardships this road had once witnessed.
After flying for most of the day, a hazy outline emerged in the sea of sand ahead. It was a cluster of ocher ruins, lying quietly among the dunes like an old man who had slept for countless years, his clothes scoured by wind and sand until their original colors could no longer be seen. Shen Xiu slowed down, while Liu Qingyan widened her eyes and curiously examined the ancient city ruins drawing ever closer.
The two landed at the edge of the ruins. The sand beneath their feet was somewhat loose, mixed with broken pottery shards and half-buried bricks and tiles that gave off faint crunches underfoot. Shen Xiu crouched down and picked up a shard of pottery. It bore a kind of writing he did not recognize, its strokes curved and flowing, like a variation of some ancient script. He turned it over. On the reverse was the pattern of a sun, rays radiating from the center of the circle, simple lines brimming with strength.
"What is this?" Liu Qingyan crouched as well and leaned closer to inspect the shard.
Shen Xiu shook his head. "I've never seen it either. It may be a relic of some ancient civilization—perhaps thousands of years old, maybe even tens of thousands."
Liu Qingyan reached out and took