After buying the Flowstone, Jin Yue glanced into his purse.
Only a few thin coins remained.
They rattled softly against one another as he shifted the pouch in his hand, the sound light and hollow, almost mocking in its emptiness. He did not need to count them. The weight alone told him everything.
…Not enough for an inn.Not even for the cheapest mat.
The realization did not sting. It simply settled, calm and final, like a stone sinking into water.
Alright. Then somewhere will do.
He tied the purse back at his waist and turned away from the stall, slipping into the thinning flow of people as the city slowly transitioned toward night. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their warm glow carving pockets of light into the deepening dusk. Voices still filled the streets, but the tone had shifted...less urgency, more fatigue.
Jin Yue avoided the busiest roads.
He let the crowds peel away from him naturally, following narrower paths where footsteps echoed softer and conversations fell to murmurs. The further he walked, the more the city loosened its grip. Shouts faded into distant noise. Lanterns grew sparse, stretched farther apart. Shadows lengthened, swallowing corners and doorways.
By the time the sky darkened fully, only a few stragglers remained...late workers, drunks, silhouettes that passed without acknowledgment.
Eventually, Jin Yue reached the edge of the district.
An old temple stood there, half-forgotten, pressed against the boundary where the city thinned into neglected land. Its wooden walls were worn thin by time, planks warped and split by years of sun and rain. The roof sagged under its own weight, one corner entirely collapsed inward. Vines crawled across the timber like old scars that had never healed.
But the place was empty.
And quiet.
No incense smoke drifted from its entrance. No caretakers lingered nearby. No worshippers came this late.
Good. Quiet is enough.I can breathe here.
He stepped inside.
The temple hall opened wide and bare, its once-polished floor dulled by dust and neglect. Pale moonlight filtered through the broken roof in long silver streaks, cutting through the darkness at sharp angles. Dust floated lazily through those beams, drifting without direction like wandering stars that had lost their sky.
The statues lining the hall had been worn down by weather and time. Their features were softened, edges rounded by decades of exposure. Cracks ran through stone faces and folded robes, but their expressions remained unchanged...serene, distant, watchful.
They said nothing.
They judged nothing.
Jin Yue moved toward the wall and gathered abandoned straw into a small pile. It smelled faintly of old grain and damp earth, but it was dry enough. He arranged it carefully, not out of habit but respect...for the effort, however small.
It wasn't much.
But it softened the cold stone beneath him.
It's warmer than the streets.It feels… almost safe.
He lay down on his side, fishing rod resting within reach, Flowstone pulsing faintly against the dimness. Exhaustion finally reached for him, heavy and unrelenting now that he had stopped moving. His breath slowed as the tension drained from his shoulders.
Moonlight brushed against his cheek.
Gentle.Cold.
Just as his eyes began to close...
step
Jin Yue froze.
The sound was faint, but unmistakable.
Not inside the hall.
It drifted from outside, just beyond the ruined wall.
Another step.
Slow.Measured.Crunching lightly over gravel and old weeds.
His breathing stilled completely.
Someone… outside?At this hour? In a place like this?
The temple lay far from the main roads. No one came here unless they had a reason...or nowhere else to go.
Then another sound reached him.
Thin.Trembling.Raw.
Crying?
His breath caught halfway in his chest.
That wasn't wind.It wasn't an animal.
Someone was sobbing in the dark.
Jin Yue pushed himself up quietly, movements controlled and precise. His spine straightened like a shadow returning to form, every trace of drowsiness burned away in an instant. Moonlight slid across his face, sharpening the pale glimmer in his eyes.
He did not rush.
He listened.
The sobbing came again.
Soft.Fractured.Barely holding itself together.
His hand tightened around his fishing rod, fingers curling instinctively around the familiar wood.
Who cries outside an abandoned temple in the middle of the night?What kind of danger follows a voice like that…?
He rose soundlessly, feet gliding over the cold stone floor. Each step was placed with care, weight distributed evenly, no unnecessary motion. He did not head toward the doorway.
Instead, he slipped along the side wall, keeping to the deepest shadows.
His steps were light.Controlled.
He moved like a ripple of water avoiding the moon's reflection...present, but unseen.
The sobbing grew clearer as he advanced, carried by the stillness of the night. There was no attempt to hide it, no effort to muffle the sound. Whoever cried had passed beyond caution.
The old window near the far corner stood half-broken, its wooden frame splintered and warped. One shutter hung crookedly, barely attached. A beam of moonlight spilled through the opening, illuminating floating dust like drifting fireflies.
Jin Yue approached it slowly.
Carefully.
The crying sharpened with every step...raw, uneven, heavy with exhaustion and despair.
"…God… I have nothing left."
The voice cracked on the last word, splintering into silence.
Jin Yue froze just short of the window's edge.
He did not move.
He did not breathe.
The night held its breath with him.