In the mirror.
Sang Que ran across the suspension bridge, past the ancestral hall's gate, and yet again she saw a familiar mountain path with stone steps, and another identical gate.
The difference was that on both sides of the mountain path were piled-up coffins, weather-beaten and rain-soaked, some already broken, exposing corpses inside wearing red wedding dresses.
Those corpses were curled up, resembling winter insects in summer grass, with clusters of white bell-shaped flowers growing on their backs.
Sang Que felt that her good luck had run out, and the road ahead wouldn't be easy.
She tentatively moved forward, but coffins from both sides suddenly flew out, landing in the middle of the path, blocking her way.
Sang Que wanted to retreat, but behind her came the sound of children laughing and running around. A tide of fog rolled over her feet.
