Northwest of Fu City, barren mountains and untended graves stretched in every direction. Normally, no one would come here.
Now, however, a car stopped at the foot of the mountain. A tall woman got out and looked up at the steep peak.
The end of the year was approaching, and the air smelled of burnt paper ashes, incense, candles, and firecrackers.
Usually, hardly anyone came here, but around the New Year, people came and went to visit their ancestors' graves. Wrapped in down jackets, they brought their families along and moved through the smoke and dust.
Zhong Xueran's face was expressionless. She had not come to pay her respects to her ancestors or tend their graves.
Instead... she had come for the Taoist temple here.
Northwest of Fu City stood Little Chongyang Temple. It had once drawn a steady stream of worshippers, but had recently fallen into disuse.
It had been abandoned because there was no one to take over, for those who ran Little Chongyang Temple bore the surname Zhong.
This place... could be considered the Zhong Family's ancestral grounds.
Zhong Xueran pulled her trench coat tighter and began climbing the mountain without a word.
Little Chongyang Temple stood halfway up the mountain. No main road led to it, and vehicles could not reach it. The only way up was on foot.
The wind grew stronger as she climbed. But when Zhong Xueran reached the temple entrance, she saw a scene entirely different from what she had imagined.
Why was Little Chongyang Temple no longer dilapidated?
Zhong Xueran frowned slightly as she looked at the clearly renovated temple before her, puzzled.
Shrouded in hazy smoke, the ancient temple resembled a silhouette floating on a painted scroll, looking especially still and solemn.
But in her memory, Little Chongyang Temple had