The Nether River was silent, its ghostly mists a thousand layers deep.
Departed souls and karma flowed slowly through the river. Even time grew sluggish here, steeped in the Netherworld.
"The moon first rises, the player paints his face-"
Suddenly, an operatic voice crossed the Nether River, each word lilting through its own turn. The graceful, sumptuous melody drifted along the ripples of the dark river.
Flower shadows swayed, and layer upon layer of red gauze descended from the Void. Red lanterns lit one after another, their heatless flames bathing the riverside garden in uncanny splendor. When the cold wind blew, they resembled blood-colored butterflies fluttering through the dusk.
Deep in the garden, Yun Si reclined on a cushioned couch, her chin propped on one hand, her bright yellow gown spilling over its edge. She looked just as she had in Yun Qing's memories from many, many years ago.
There had been three people in the flower pavilion back then. There were still three now, only they had become three graceful female figures.
Yun Si, Yun Ruyi, and Lin Muyao, who was hidden in the Fortune Pouch at Yun Ruyi's waist, no bigger than a thumb.
The singing continued ahead. Suddenly, a wisp of red gauze floated down from above.
Yun Si lifted her eyes and lightly extended a hand. The red gauze fell neatly into her palm. Holding the soft, vivid fabric between two fingers, she looked past the garden full of ghostly flowers toward the stage ahead.
A vermilion platform, golden patterns tracing its eaves-the grand ghost opera opened in all its glory.
At the center of the Opera Stage, a figure stood with his back to them. His scarlet opera robe trailed to the ground, his waist slender, his black hair bound beneath his ornate headdress.
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