A Luo had said she didn't have any other magic, but A Yin felt that she did. For example, the art of entering dreams, she had to have studied to the point of perfection. A Yin opened her eyes; waking in the dark night, as silent as a coffin, the tip of her nose was filled with the antique wooden scent of the bed, carved with decorated patterns; the receptacles at all sides were this familiar, and it trapped her beautiful dream within, sealing it with long nails, and then buried it underground, turning it into a secret lost to death. Longing was something which, once it started, there was no stopping, and it was the most shameless, wanting a chi once a cun was won; as long as you gave it a crack in the door to seep through, it would come live along with its family, as if it were the owner. At the start, A Yin had even put on an act and chased it away; now the days had grown old, she no longer resisted, so as a result, A Luo often appeared in her dreams. She rose from the bed, openin...