The night sky resembled a curtain of dark cyan, studded with twinkling stars.
In the wilderness.
Amidst the vast mountains and forests.
Within an abandoned shrine that had long been in ruin.
Darkness prevailed.
Only a few faint moonbeams fell through the broken entrance and the holes in the roof.
In the darkness behind the deity's statue.
Two silhouettes could vaguely be seen.
One long, one short.
Both silent and unspoken.
The air inside the shrine had succumbed to silence.
Zhao Rong lowered his head, intently examining the huddled shadow behind the statue.
Su Xiaoxiao did not respond to him and remained curled up.
Zhao Rong extended his hand, intending to touch her, but suddenly stopped midway.
After thinking for a moment, he turned and walked around the shrine, collecting some dry kindling.
Zhao Rong returned to behind the statue and began to build a fire with the kindling.
Slowly.
At a certain moment.