Feng Shui

Chapitre 9

Chapter Ten: Landscape in a Bonsai

Name: Song Pei Gender: Male Age: Over fifty (appears)

Occupation: Owner of Boguxuan Restaurant Address: No. 71, Beixu Lane, Bomeiji

"Feel free to look around." The owner greeted the well-dressed man in a suit and leather shoes. The man, who was wearing a rather ridiculous blue coarse cloth jacket and had a pipe in his mouth, did not look like the kind of person who could run a shop like Boguxuan.

Before stepping into this quaint shop, even a businessman like Han Dan couldn't help but have some romantic fantasies about the ancient pillars and swaying curtains, such as an old man in a blue robe with a sage-like demeanor or a remnant of the old aristocracy. However, reality was right in front of him, and his rare romanticism was deconstructed and shattered. Han Dan's eyes then returned to the restrained yet shrewd expression of a businessman.

"These are rare treasures that are hard to find in ordinary shops. I can tell that you are a connoisseur, so I won't go into too much detail. Please take your time looking around. I'll go to the back room. If you find something you like, just ring this copper bell." With that, the shopkeeper bowed and turned to go behind the antique-style lattice window.

“Oh, right,” he said from behind the heavy wooden lattice, “except for the item at the bottom of the cabinet, which is not for sale, you are welcome to examine the rest of the items. However, due to its rarity, I hope you will try not to touch this one. Thank you in advance.”

The pungent smell of tobacco had faded away, leaving Han Dan alone in the dimly lit hall. He loosened his tie, put down his bag, and took a good look at the scene inside.

Han Dan is a successful businessman. In his early thirties, he has already risen to the position of department manager in a well-known European and American company. His wife is exceptionally virtuous. Although she worked in a joint venture company before marrying him, she willingly gave up her career to become the woman behind this successful man. To outsiders, their marriage seems perfect and happy, and Han Dan himself thinks so too, although occasionally, he feels a little bored. There are many examples in the company of marriages breaking down due to neglecting family for career. Those eligible bachelors often make sarcastic remarks when they see Han Dan, but he usually just smiles it off. Behind his polite demeanor lies a different kind of affection. For those who have had a smooth life, hardship sometimes seems like a dazzling light on the other side of the river, alluring and enchanting.

Han Dan stumbled upon this place by chance on his way back to the company after visiting a client, and his immediate reaction was astonishment. This market, called Bomei Market, was a place he had never heard of before. Amidst the bustling crowds, there was something strange and peculiar about it. Whether it was the massive cluster of buildings suddenly appearing under the enormous setting sun, or the unheard-of and unseen treasures, even the people in the market all had strange expressions. As they hurried past each other, a subtle glance stirred an indescribable feeling in Han Dan's heart—a feeling that was both unsettling and sweet, like—the smell of poppies!

Han Dan put down the jade Buddha in his hand. The jade was a vibrant green, and the Buddha's carving was exquisite yet simple. The best sculptors can often imbue the most ordinary strokes with extraordinary spirituality, and this jade Buddha was clearly no ordinary piece. In fact, it wasn't just this one jade Buddha; the items that appeared to be casually placed without any security were all rare treasures not easily found on the market. Bada Shanren's freehand flower-and-bird paintings hung hastily on the wall, genuine works by the Eight Great Masters of the Tang and Song Dynasties were scattered on the table, a delicate white jade disc rested in a dark-colored low basin, a celadon vase, a Tang Dynasty crown with gold thread, a bronze-patterned horn-shaped wine vessel… How many years and how much wealth would one person need to collect so many things?

If considered from the perspective of smuggling or tomb raiding, it makes sense. Han Dan concluded that the market's secretive existence was likely due to its distribution channels; in other words, it was a true black market. This explained all the inexplicable phenomena. However, if such rare treasures were merely ordinary items in this antique shop, what would be its prized possession? Han Dan immediately became very interested in the non-sale items the shopkeeper had mentioned.

Turning his head to look at the inner door leading to the back room, Han Dan suddenly had the urge to peek. For humans, the more forbidden something is, the more it arouses curiosity. Han Dan, abandoning the reserve of a large company manager, walked to the mahogany cabinet, squatted down, and gently opened the closed door. He had expected to see some dazzling array of rare treasures, but when his eyes fell upon only an oval earthenware basin, Han Dan was truly astonished.

Is this earthen basin what's considered a rare item? He reached inside and took out the rectangular basin, placing it under the bright red lantern for a closer look. The basin was simple and unadorned, lacking any air of luxury, and similarly, it contained absolutely nothing that suggested its rarity. If there was anything special about it, it was only the small wooden city gate in the center of the earthen basin, filled with black soil. Its era was unclear, but upon closer inspection, the craftsmanship was indeed quite exquisite. The carved window frames, the gilded plaques, the eaves and brackets, the glazed tiles—all were remarkably lifelike. Han Dan tried to push the small door, about the size of a fingernail, with his finger. Unexpectedly, the door was movable. Looking further inside, Han Dan was startled. It seemed as if a figure had flashed by, but when he looked again, everything had vanished. Han Dan looked closer in disbelief. Inside the hall, paved with delicate stone slabs, there were tables, chairs, screens, and lanterns—everything was there, making it a miniature version of an ancient city. Most incredibly, the fruits and food piled on the tables were also lifelike, and the aroma of roasted meat could even be smelled from the small hall.

Han Dan couldn't help but exclaim in admiration. The craftsmanship was truly exquisite, no wonder the shopkeeper refused to sell. Several plans flashed through his mind as he considered how to persuade the owner to part with it. After a moment's thought, Han Dan left a check and took the earthenware pot. The transaction was complete, no disputes arose. No black market owner would think of using legal means to protect their rights, and Han Dan, the businessman, knew exactly this. This was the Han Dan who was invincible in the business world. Of course, this Han Dan had no idea how the shopkeeper in the back room was smiling as he carried away that earthenware pot.

No one knew why Han Dan had become so indifferent to his work, not even his wife. Han Dan appeared perfectly normal, with no signs of depression or physical health problems. However, he began skipping work and becoming careless, even disappearing from work for several days in a row.

Although his wife, Shu, was worried, she couldn't figure out what was wrong with her husband. She only knew that from the day he brought home an inconspicuous earthenware pot, her husband gradually became unfamiliar and distant. The couple, who had always been respectful to each other, were now growing increasingly estranged and cold. From that day on, Han Dan began to change completely. At first, he simply stayed up late and got up early, becoming taciturn. Later, he simply hid in his study every day and refused to come out. Once, when his wife was worried, she rushed into the room and found him sleeping soundly on the cold granite floor, hugging the earthenware pot. She couldn't wake him no matter how much she called. In a panic, Shu called 120 for an ambulance. Han Dan woke up with a yawn as the siren wailed. No one knew why, but the changes continued and intensified.

Han Dan had completely moved his bedding into his study, and his work at the company had been neglected for a long time. If it weren't for Shu's tireless efforts, he would never have received such a kind offer as unpaid leave. Han Dan's parents, worried about their son's health, traveled a long way from the countryside to visit him, but Han Dan refused to even see them. He stayed in his study all day, only occasionally eating the three meals Shu brought him; otherwise, he seemed to vanish into thin air. However, after a few months, even the meals Shu brought him stopped being touched by him.

The first person to realize what was happening was Shu. She had someone break the lock on the study door, but when the door opened, the room was a mess, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. Apart from the earthenware pot carefully placed on the desk, there was no sign of anyone having lived there. Her husband had simply vanished from his home and never appeared again…

In the spring of the third year, Shu finally gave up the idea of searching for her husband everywhere. She sold their house and found a small house to live in alone. She also found a new job and continued her pre-marital career.

One afternoon, while resting at home, Shu was cleaning the room when she inadvertently found the earthenware pot that her husband had cherished so much before his disappearance. Inside the simple pot, besides the city gate, strangely, streets, waterways, and other scenes appeared. Brilliant peach blossoms bloomed in abundance, so alluring that Shu's heart skipped a beat. She immediately dropped the pot, and it shattered on the ground. Though reluctant, Shu could only sweep up the remains and throw them into the neighborhood's garbage station.

This part of the story has, of course, come to an end. But what kind of story will begin when another earthenware pot appears in Boguxuan, and when someone pushes open the carved wooden door and enters the dimly lit hall, greeted by the old, farmer-like shopkeeper with a pipe in his mouth…?

Well, this is Pomeranian, the world's largest market, a market that sells the most bizarre things. If you're interested, you can follow the road as the sun sets; you're sure to find it!

Chapter Eleven Wax Dolls

Name: Hongxian Gender: Female Age: Approximately 27 years old

Occupation: Owner of Hongxian Wax Museum and wax figure craftsman; Address: No. 62-66, Dongshi Street, Bomei

"Look, it's her!"

"What? That kind of woman who's unfashionable, fat, and doesn't know how to dress up, is she really that great just because she gets good grades?"

"Shh, keep your voice down. I heard she's sick. What if she hears us and has an attack?"

"That would be best, so I wouldn't feel nauseous seeing such an ugly woman!"

Su Xue took a deep breath, strode past the two girls who were tidying their clothes in front of the bathroom mirror and deliberately talking loudly to her, and quickly rushed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them. In that instant, the girl outside couldn't hold back her sadness any longer; she curled up, choked back tears, and shed large drops.

As some philosopher once said, a good name often makes a good first impression. However, the philosopher didn't realize that for those whose names don't match their reality, a beautiful name can actually bring more excruciating pain. Su Xue's parents must have had high hopes when they named their newborn daughter, but they never imagined that such a suggestive name would bring their daughter, who weighed over 120 kilograms and wasn't particularly pretty, a life of irony, criticism, and hardship.

Things often follow a vicious cycle. Su Xue, who was looked down upon since childhood because of her obesity and ugliness, put in much more effort than others to study in order to hold her head high among her peers. As a result, she achieved excellent grades. In a child's mind, good grades equal praise and standing out from the crowd. However, Su Xue did not expect that by winning over everyone in her grades, she would not only gain self-esteem, but also be ostracized by everyone.

No one liked her. She often sat alone in the quiet classroom after school, watching her classmates walk home or go shopping together. Occasionally, someone would invite her to join them out of pity, but she always couldn't bring herself to do it, rejecting their kindness with a cold and proud tone. Afterwards, she would regret it terribly, but she would make the same choice again next time. Gradually, no one paid any attention to her anymore. Except when the exam results were announced, when she was the one standing tall and shining, her classmates mostly treated her as an invisible person who didn't exist at all, completely ignoring her.

"I don't want to go to class anymore. There's no point in going back to a place like that." Su Xue wiped away her tears, stood up, and drifted out of the school gate like a ghost unable to bear the afternoon sun. She didn't know how long she walked or where she was. In short, when she looked up again and noticed her surroundings, she was already in the middle of this bustling market.

The large, bright orange sunset, unique to dusk, hung low against the narrow sky above the market, appearing exceptionally close, as if one could reach out and touch it. In the afterglow of the setting sun, crowds thronged the various stalls draped in different awnings. Strangely dressed vendors energetically hawked their wares, seemingly unaffected by the sweltering heat of the summer evening. Piles of bizarre and unusual goods stood like mountains, each gleaming quietly and alluringly in the halo of the newly lit, old-fashioned, simple yellow light bulbs. What kind of market was this, really?

Su Xue stopped in front of a large, black wooden house. Although she didn't know why she had stopped, it was as if an invisible rope bound her firmly to the world behind those tall wooden doors, preventing her from moving an inch further. After hesitating for a moment, she finally stepped forward and gently pushed open the slightly ajar wooden door.

The astonishment she felt upon entering the world beyond the door was beyond words, or perhaps the word "astonishment" alone suffices to describe it. It was simply a vast and deep hall, completely unlike the typical Ming and Qing dynasty architecture she had imagined from outside. There was no courtyard or corridor, just that enormous hall, utterly devoid of decoration and furnishings. Apart from a narrow passageway no more than fifty centimeters wide in the center, countless people were scattered throughout the space, motionless and utterly lifeless!

Su Xue was startled and almost turned to run away. How terrifying it would be to be stared at by so many people with lifeless eyes.

"Welcome to Red Thread Wax Museum." A slightly husky yet languid and sexy female voice emerged from the darkness, followed by a stunningly beautiful woman whom Su Xue had never seen before. She wore a bright red sleeveless cheongsam with embroidered patterns, featuring a high slit and raglan sleeves. A luxurious white mink fur draped over her shoulder, and her long, slender fingers, painted with dark red nail polish, gracefully brushed against her curly hair. Her infinitely alluring face radiated a unique brilliance that made people unconsciously fall into its trap.

"These are all... wax figures?" Su Xue finally snapped out of her daze at the shop owner's stunning beauty and stammered as she asked.

Although they are lifeless eyes, and merely objects crafted by skillful hands, why are each one so exquisite and perfect? Whether male or female, each one seems to proclaim its existence, blooming with dazzling brilliance, almost blinding to the eye. In contrast, she, a real person, appears dusty, worn, and broken!

"Do you like my wax figure?" Hongxian smiled, revealing two dimples, which momentarily made Su Xue lose her composure.

How enviable, such beauty; how...how...how hateful!

As if hearing the quiet whisper in Su Xue's heart that she herself was unaware of, Hongxian lowered her head, and a melodious voice, like pearls clashing, escaped from the corners of her mouth: "You can do it too, like me." She chuckled softly, and unexpectedly used her left hand, which carried a faint fragrance, to hold Su Xue's chin and lift her round face, which was covered in sweat and oil. With her other hand, she gathered Su Xue's long bangs that she had kept to cover her face, and carefully examined Su Xue with a smiling gaze.

"Let me go!" Su Xue struggled to break free from those hands, panting heavily as she took a few steps back, her eyes welling up with tears. How could she, how could she do this? Such a beautiful person actually touched an ugly girl like her, and... she was covered in sweat and smelled terrible, how could she touch her like this? How disgusting! How disgusting that she touched her! Su Xue desperately thought to herself, biting her lower lip tightly, a few streaks of blood seeping into her parched mouth, tasting slightly salty, yet upon closer inspection, she felt a dark sweetness.

"Don't be nervous." Hongxian smiled calmly, turned around, and searched among the wax figures on the left for a while before finally fixing her gaze on a certain point. She pursed her lips slightly and waved elegantly. As if by some mechanism, the surrounding wax figures silently and quickly retreated into two rows, revealing a path in the middle. Hongxian walked gracefully through, like a queen receiving the adoration of thousands. When she returned to Su Xue, she was holding a wax figure half the height of a person.

"This is one of my proudest works."

Su Xue didn't hear a word Hongxian said. The moment her eyes fell on the wax figure, she lost the ability to think. She had indeed heard that well-made dolls could possess a true soul, something emanating from the craftsman; she had also heard that in Japan, some long-established families still kept the tradition of making dolls for their entire family, using them to ward off all misfortunes. In her heart, she had always believed that those man-made things were nothing more than human-shaped imitations. But why did this one cast such a heavy stone into the still lake of her heart, creating endless ripples?

His hair, shimmering like the pale gold of the morning star, was tied back with a magnificent ribbon. His resolute face was framed by a pair of eyes as dark as midnight. His tightly pursed lips exuded a mature and decisive aura. A luxurious velvet overcoat, adorned with elegant gold-embroidered patterns, and a silk shirt with an elaborate courtly scarf hanging gracefully from the collar, paired with well-fitting khaki trousers, made him no ordinary wax figure; he was practically a living, breathing, handsome man!

"How is it? Do you like it?" Hongxian asked Su Xue, her eyes and brows full of smiles.

"I...I like him..." Su Xue answered involuntarily, as if bewitched. She longed...she longed to touch his face, such a perfect face. But then her mood darkened. He was just a doll; he would never become real. No, perhaps it was better if he didn't become real. How could someone so outstanding like her? So, it was best to just look. What wasn't meant to be could not be forced.

Unexpectedly, Hongxian gently added, "Give it a try, maybe it'll become real?"

"Huh?" Su Xue looked up in surprise, staring at Hong Xian's smiling face, which was slightly blurred due to its radiant smile. A beautiful woman is always beautiful, Su Xue thought on her way home, clutching the doll that had captivated her completely. But it was so strange; why could she only remember the shopkeeper's beauty, and not her face at all? Why...why?

On the day Su Xue disappeared, Hong Xian was working on a new piece in her studio, which was perched on a beam atop the main hall. A small jar beside her made a hissing sound, then began to shake violently. A moment later, a puff of smoke escaped from the glass jar, swirled in the air above the wax museum for a while, and then quickly rushed out the door, disappearing without a trace.

Hongxian stopped writing, took off her glasses, stared blankly for a moment, and then a faint smile appeared on her lips. Su Xue had taken away the body of a nobleman's son who had long since given up his soul after being heartbroken over love. In exchange, she had taken Su Xue's talent. That girl, though possessing outstanding beauty and the talent to become a designer, was never aware of it, and perhaps even had all the brilliance in her character worn away by her daily inferiority and self-pity. Now, the missing Su Xue had awakened the man slumbering in sealed time. Perhaps, these two unfortunate people could find their own happiness together.

Oh dear, the more she thought about it, the more she felt she had made a bad deal! Hongxian pouted. Dressed in simple work clothes, she no longer resembled the elegant and alluring shop owner, but rather the young girl who had wandered outside Bomei Market many years ago...

Chapter Twelve: Silhouette Knife

Name: Jiao Gender: Male Age: Appearance: Early twenties

Occupation: Scissors shop owner; Address: No. 25, Nanshudun, Bomei Town

In my opinion, this item is not suitable for you.

"Huh?" As if waking from a dream, the long-haired woman raised her face to look at the source of the sound. Then, as if startled, she took three steps back. With a puzzled and confused expression, she clutched her chest, still shaken.

"Why do they look so alike at first glance?" She frowned her pretty brows. Her face was delicate and oval, with a calm temperament rarely seen in young girls these days, yet she was so pale that, dressed in a plain white dress, she looked like a wisp of smoke, about to dissipate in the blink of an eye—a fragile and beautiful woman.

"Am I someone you know, sir?" The young shopkeeper narrowed his slender eyebrows, a faint smile playing on his thin, beautiful lips.

"No, no, not at all! I must have been mistaken!" the woman replied, biting her lower lip, her brows furrowing even more. They were clearly two completely different people; how could she have been wrong? The other man had clear, resolute features and a pair of eyes that sparkled with a bright light; although he had beautiful, thin lips like the man before her, he was far more determined. Her thoughts drifted uncontrollably to the cool, tingling sensation of those thin, cool lips covering her trembling lips—a sensation both icy and sweet, like being between purgatory and heaven. When that man held her in his arms, she felt an almost suffocating happiness! She unconsciously stroked her lips, savoring the lips and scent of the man who had once lingered there, then recalled the resolute, colorless words spoken from those equally beautiful lips that day: "I won't divorce my wife. I'll give you two choices: either get rid of the child and continue being my lover, or I can give you some money, and we'll be even."

His words were absolutely beautiful, crisp and decisive, just like his style of doing things. That man had been navigating the business world for years, his skill and demeanor so brilliant that they inspired envy—envy in men, and of course, longing in women! She herself had once been one of those women. If he hadn't discovered her and made his move, perhaps she would have a happy family today instead of continuing her life as a mistress, falling so irrevocably. For him, it was a game; for her, it was a forbidden zone, a place from which she could neither advance nor retreat!

Before stepping into the scissors shop called "Double Snakes," she had never realized that the seeds of hatred had been sown in her seemingly calm heart and taken such deep root that she had developed the terrifying thought of owning and doing such a thing in front of the rows of scissors with different shapes and cold metallic textures. That's why she mistook the young shop owner, who didn't look like him at all, for that person.

They were indeed two completely different people! She looked again, as if to confirm, at the gentle-looking shopkeeper in a light blue robe. He was quite handsome, but for a man, such a face seemed too effeminate and bland. The features on his handsome face were extremely delicate, even to the point of being somewhat...blurred! She was startled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Her gaze was still fixed on the handsome face and delicate features. Why had those features seemed somewhat blurry and shifty just now? She even thought of Pu Songling's "Painted Skin" for a moment and became afraid. How ridiculous! Indeed, the effects of abortion on a woman's body cannot be erased in just two weeks. Yes, she had ultimately chosen that path of no return, simply to stay by that person's side.

"If you want to keep him, you can try these scissors." The young shopkeeper smiled and lightly brushed his long, slender fingers across the rows of scissors, picking out a small, golden pair from the middle.

“How could this be…” She stared blankly at the scissors. Surprise and horror filled her chest at the same time. It wasn’t because the shopkeeper had miraculously read her mind—though this would normally seem strange and frightening, it wouldn’t have bothered her at this moment. Perhaps she had already prepared herself for the inexplicable since she inexplicably arrived at this brightly lit, strange market—but why had he picked out that pair of scissors so accurately? That pair of scissors, which had been holding her gaze captivatingly on the red-velvet-covered wooden tray since she first entered the shop, had actually only glanced at them once upon entering. After that, she dared not look at their golden brilliance again. A feeling told her that perhaps she shouldn’t own those scissors.

"This is called a silhouette scissor. Just like its name, it's a sharp and fine pair of scissors. You can use it to cut out the shadow of the person you want to keep. After that, as long as their shadow is in your hand, they will never have the thought of leaving you again," the young shopkeeper explained, toying with the golden scissors in his hand. Golden parabolas swayed before her eyes, like the sensation of suddenly staring at a bright yellow light bulb in the night and then closing her eyes. Some beautiful golden threads unfolded magnificently before her eyes, blooming one by one and finally overlapping to form the face of that person's gentle smile. In the past five years, she had almost never smiled like that. The most recent smile was a thank-you gift she had given for agreeing to the path ahead.

"Luckily you chose the path ahead." He smiled, his handsome face even more dazzling and radiant at that moment. "Otherwise, I really wouldn't know how I would have gotten through the rest of my life!" As he spoke, he embraced her and gently stroked her long hair.

"Liar!" she thought to herself. Without her, his life would be the same. Perhaps, even, he would find another girl like herself, foolishly giving him everything, willing to live in a luxurious house, abandoning her lofty ambitions and all her dreams, placing all her hopes on him. But that voice was so faint; she didn't even hear it herself, or rather, she deliberately ignored it.

"The price isn't high. You just need to give me a part of your shadow. You can freely choose which part and its size you want." The tempting voice offered a seemingly reasonable condition.

"What effect would it have on him if I cut off his shadow? What would happen if I gave you a part of his shadow?"

The young shop owner stopped playing with the scissors, leaned against the counter, and looked at the customer in front of him with a playful smile: "You're really observant, aren't you?"

"Can't you answer this question?" she asked. Although she selfishly wanted to possess him, she would never do anything to hurt him, because he was the most important person to her, someone she would give up everything to protect.

"It won't have any effect. However, it depends on which part of the shadow you give me. If it's the head, it might slightly affect his memory or judgment; if it's the hands or feet, it might cause some motor impairment in those areas; if you only give me something the size of a fingernail, then even if you take the heart, it won't have much of an effect on him, at most he might just have some occasional chest tightness. You can rest assured, I would never joke about the life of the most important person to you. After all, my place, Shuangshe, is a business that runs a shop, and I only sell everyday things. As for human lives, I am probably the person in the entire Pomei Group who has the least desire for them."

Can I trust him? She pondered to herself. The terms sounded favorable to her. If everything the shop owner said was true, could she really fulfill the wish buried deep in her heart and keep that person by her side forever?

"Okay, I believe you." She finally made her decision, watching the young shopkeeper smile as he placed the golden sharp object into her hand.

The night the man stayed overnight, she cut out his silhouette and carefully kept it. The next day, as agreed, she gave the shop owner a tiny black shadow, the size of a fingernail. She knew that the area wouldn't be affected, since it was just a strand of hair, she thought to herself. Seeing the shop owner shaking his head with a hint of frustration, repeatedly saying things like "I lost money, I lost money," a feeling of relief lightened her heart. Although she was no longer working—after all, she had been the most promising employee in the entire marketing department back then, and if she were still working at the company today, she might have already been promoted—she didn't regret it. She wouldn't regret giving up everything for the most important person in her life. She had already made up her mind on the day her father kicked her out five years ago, so of course she had no regrets now.

From then on, the man stayed overnight at her house every day and never mentioned his wife again. She also wisely stopped mentioning divorce. The two got along like a couple who had been married for many years, harmonious and sweet. Even the neighbors next door expressed their envy and said, "You are so lucky. Your husband is so outstanding and loves you so much. You must have been blessed in your past life!"

"That's right. Before, when your husband was busy with work and didn't come home often, some people even said you were a mistress. They're all gossipy people. See, now they're all quiet. Aren't they just jealous of you?"

Whenever this happens, she responds with a kind smile. Although the two people who said this had mocked her before and never given her a kind look, she doesn't mind. Now, her heart is filled with happiness and joy, and what others say or think is not important to her, not before, and not now!

That afternoon, a sudden downpour began. He hadn't brought an umbrella and naturally came soaked. She knelt on the sofa to dry his freshly washed hair, which exuded a faint fragrance. Her fingertips brushed against his black hair; the quiet room was filled with a silent warmth, broken only by the whooshing sound of the hairdryer. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a certain area, and as if struck by lightning, her face turned pale, and the hairdryer almost fell to the ground.

"What's wrong, Fei'er?" he asked, holding her hand.

Why did I never notice that his hands were so cold, almost devoid of any warmth? Why?

"No, it's nothing, I'm just a little tired." She blinked, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and desperately tried to absorb his scent.

"I'll cook today, you can rest well." He patted her hand, gently placed her on the sofa, and went to the bedroom to get a blanket to cover her. "Wait for me, it'll be ready soon." He kissed her forehead and went into the kitchen.

Watching his figure disappear behind the kitchen door, she finally couldn't hold back and a string of crystal tears rolled down her cheeks. She wasn't mistaken; there was a neat patch missing from the left side of his hair at the root, just like the tuft she had cut from his shadow—the exact same mark!

He hovered and swayed in the shop. "Swaying" was an understatement; he floated as thin and lightly as a shadow, elongating or shrinking with the flickering candlelight. His black, featureless form resembled an upright shadow. He drifted from one cabinet to another, picking out various black objects. These flat, black objects, bound with red threads, unfolded into all sorts of shadows—some hands, some feet, some heads. He slowly and carefully cut and pieced them together with scissors. With each snip, his image gradually became fuller and more three-dimensional, eventually taking on a human form. Finally, the gentle and handsome shopkeeper who had been there during business hours appeared.

If you want something, come to Pomeranian, the world's largest market, a market that sells the unbelievable. Whatever your request or need, it can be fulfilled here, because this is Pomeranian, the last strange market in the land where the sun sets!

Chapter Thirteen: Memoir

Name: Qu Jing Gender: Undetermined Age: Undetermined

Occupation: Owner of Qiying Gallery; Address: No. 771, Nanshudun, Bomei Town

In the novel, there exists a wondrous thing called a moving photograph, which supposedly allows the people or objects captured within it to possess their own will and realistically recreate the scene. However, can the recorded reality truly be the same as the reality felt by the human heart...?

The antique bronze frame, a solid dark gold, features a brushed finish that outlines the delicate beauty of blooming lily-of-the-valley flowers, their graceful branches extending supplely at each of the four corners. Enclosing this frame is a clear, lake-like blue expanse. Somewhat surprising is the snow scene within, where beautiful hexagonal ice crystals drift down, piling up softly in clusters. A wooden cabin with steamy windows has plumes of smoke rising from its low chimney. A line of footprints stretches into the distance, clearly visible on the thick snow. One can almost hear a pheasant's call, and a songbird with colorful feathers flies out of the forest, scattering a fine mist of snow. The crisp, cool air rushes in, and a deep breath is enough to involuntarily immerse you in the pure, utterly natural flavor—what a wondrous feeling!

Feng Yan unconsciously reached out to touch the things in the square frame—the soft snow crystals, the cool icicles, the warmth of wild birds; or perhaps to push open the rough wooden door and greet the owner of the house, where there would be a woman waiting for her husband to return, perhaps surrounded by several children. Inside the small house, a flickering charcoal fire would burn, and an old-fashioned earthenware pot would sit on the wood-burning stove, simmering fragrant meat soup. The children, dressed in rough cotton clothes, would have rosy cheeks with the health and innocence of the mountains and forests. He reached out to push the wooden door, but what his fingertips touched was a warm and simple sensation—it was… a photograph.

"Sir, is there anything you need?"

Feng Yan turned his head and his gaze fell upon a short figure wrapped in a thick cotton coat, wearing a cotton hat with a fur lining and sunglasses on his face. With his mezzo-soprano voice, it was hard to tell whether he was male or female for a moment. Feng Yan was stunned for a moment, then nodded slightly to the other person: "Just looking around."