In the endless long night, the air was filled with the scent of withered wild grass. The autumn in the Imperial Capital was exceptionally cold, with a deep blue sky, vast and empty, stars twinkling in the night like diamonds scattered by a deity.
Lu Xiaoyou sat on the floor by the floor-to-ceiling window, her hand pressed against the cold glass, and she leaned her forehead against the glass.
The city lights shone in from outside, casting a cool glow on her.
She looked down and saw a man standing across the street.
He was wearing a black coat, standing by the vintage street lamp, with moths continuously hitting the warm yellow light above his head.
The street lamp cast a curved shadow above him, while under his eyelids there was a shadow of long lashes.
The man held a cigarette, he had already smoked several, and at his feet were cigarette butts that had been stomped out.
Wisps of white smoke were exhaled from his lips, his brow and eyes obscured by the hazy mist.
