Late autumn of the New Calendar year 584.
This is the East Fourth Ring District of City No. 13 on the Hongyue Continent.
The last rays of the setting sun spilled over the banks of the Fallen River, its shimmering ripples stirred by the wind. The swaying tree shadows on both shores stood in stark contrast to the empty river surface and the ink-dark, murky water.
Legend has it that the source of the Fallen River lies far to the north of the city. It traverses the Hongyue Continent from north to south and west to east, eventually merging into the boundless sea.
Humans have built cities along both banks of the Fallen River, relying on this mother river for survival and prosperity.
The Fallen River divides the East District into two parts. Along the East River Road lies the sundry goods trading area, while the West River Road is home to the notorious Red-Light District of the Fourth Ring. Only a single alloy bridge spans the river, connecting the two regions.
Shan Xiaoxi stepped onto the alloy bridge with light, brisk footsteps.
The young woman in her early twenties wore her hair in a mature bun, and her deep blue suit lent her an air of steadiness beyond her years.
A withered, yellow leaf drifted past her eyes, following the wind’s path until it landed on the surface of the Fallen River. As if seized by something, the leaf did not float but sank straight to the bottom.
Shan Xiaoxi gazed at the spot where the leaf had vanished, marveling once again at the wonders of creation.
The Fallen River was a “dead river” in every sense of the name.
It was ancient and mysterious, supplying drinking water to the city while simultaneously bringing death.
Not only was the river water undrinkable directly, but no living creature could survive within it—neither plants, animals, nor humans. It was said that any object falling into the Fallen River would sink immediately, never to resurface no matter how long it remained submerged.
Thus, in these harsh living conditions, many who sought to end their lives chose to bury themselves in this river.
Shan Xiaoxi worked in the Third Ring but lived on the east bank of the Fallen River in the East Fourth Ring District. Every day, she crossed the alloy bridge and the transfer station connecting the Third and Fourth Rings on her commute.
Today, she had gotten off work a bit late.
Hurrying across the crowded alloy bridge, Shan Xiaoxi immediately spotted a familiar figure at their usual spot not far from the bridgehead.
Amidst a cluster of sundry goods vendors, one person sat by the riverside under a tree, an easel set up before him. Amid the clamor of the crowd, only he remained silent, gazing fixedly at the opposite bank, occasionally putting brush to paper to capture the scenery.
“Vincent, I’m back,” Shan Xiaoxi called out from a distance.
The painter, immersed in his artistic world, did not hear her call. Shan Xiaoxi had to jog a few steps through the crowd and gently tap his shoulder.
The painter snapped back to reality, offering a gentle smile in return. “Welcome back.”
Shan Xiaoxi nodded repeatedly in acknowledgment, gathering the painting supplies while urging him, “I was busy at work today and got off late. The Crimson Moon will be out soon. Hurry and pack up so we can go home.”
Vincent took one last look across the river in the setting sun, his clear eyes filled with longing.
The horizon had not yet swallowed the sun, and the Crimson Moon had not yet risen, but the Red-Light District across the river was already alight with colorful lanterns.
As the lanterns began to glow, beauties leaned against windows, gazing at their reflections in mirrors.
While Shan Xiaoxi busied herself packing, Vincent added a few more strokes to his painting. Shan Xiaoxi peeked at the canvas amidst her tasks, her eyes teasing as she looked at Vincent.
“This painting, ‘Selena Across the River,’ is almost finished. Are you planning to sell it or give it to Selena yourself? Haven’t you always wanted to cross the river and see the world? You must have almost saved up enough money by now.”
Selena was one of the top performers at the “Night Rose” club on Red Light Street, famous for her waist-length, jet-black straight hair. Vincent had caught a glimpse of her from across the river, and that single sight had left an indelible mark on his memory.
Vincent lowered his head in embarrassment, wanting to explain himself, but was interrupted as Shan Xiaoxi urged him to leave.
In the distance, the Crimson Moon was slowly rising from the horizon, its crimson light slanting across the land, faintly resembling blood threads floating above the ground.
The nights in this world were eerie and perilous, precisely because of this red moon in the sky. The radiation from the Crimson Moon was harmful to living beings, capable of triggering mutations in organisms. Humans, animals, and plants were all affected to varying degrees.
The Crimson Moon typically emitted a crimson glow. On the first and fifteenth days of each month, it would turn even redder, radiating a bloody light.
“Xiaoxi, will you become a full-time employee tomorrow?”
Shan Xiaoxi had interned at the Miracle Gallery in the Third Ring during her third year of university and continued working there after graduation. Tomorrow marked the end of her internship period.
A month earlier, the gallery manager had hinted at his appreciation for her, and Shan Xiaoxi had always been confident about transitioning from intern to a full-time gallery employee.
“Don’t worry, once I become a full-time employee, I’ll recommend your paintings to the gallery. In the future, I’ll even arrange an exhibition for you. Then, plenty of wealthy people will rush to buy your paintings, and we’ll strike it rich. After that, we can move to the Third Ring, and then—”
The more Shan Xiaoxi thought about it, the happier she became, and the more extravagant her words grew. It seemed as though the wonderful life she envisioned was already within reach.
Vincent followed behind Shan Xiaoxi, smiling shyly with his head lowered. He knew she sometimes exaggerated when she spoke. It was her way of yearning for a better life, something no one had the heart to shatter.
Shan Xiaoxi walked ahead, carrying a paint box, while Vincent followed behind with a canvas easel on his back. A closer look would reveal that his steps were somewhat unsteady. Vincent’s right leg had suffered a severe injury, leaving him with a permanent disability.
The welfare home was located on Grass Street, five blocks away from Alloy Bridge.
Before the sun was swallowed by the horizon, the two rushed through the gates of the welfare home. The children who had been waiting at the entrance worked together to close and lock the gates before running after them into the building.
The moment the sun disappeared, the Crimson Moon’s radiance spread across the land, and almost simultaneously, all the streets emptied of people. Thick curtains blocked the crimson moonlight, while the rooms inside were brightly lit.
City No. 13 enjoyed abundant sunshine year-round, and most areas in the city relied on solar-powered systems. The municipal government’s centralized power supply system, in contrast, was only used by the wealthy as a backup.
Grass Welfare Home had only one independent solar power system. It was powerful enough, though the equipment was somewhat outdated and required frequent maintenance.
Grass Welfare Home currently employed four aunties who received official salaries. They were responsible for caring for seven elderly residents and six underage children. Although the government’s monthly funding was always delayed and dwindling, the four aunties still devoted themselves wholeheartedly to looking after everyone.
The welfare home also housed two extra individuals: Shan Xiaoxi and Vincent.
When Shan Xiaoxi was four years old, her parents went out to work and never returned. She and her brother, who was six years older, were sent to Grass Welfare Home. When Shan Xiaoxi was ten, her brother’s biological father came looking for him and took him away.
Six years ago, Vincent was officially sent to the welfare home. At that time, he had just been discharged from the hospital and still walked unsteadily, though he was able to take care of himself without needing assistance from others. He had lost his memory, unable to recall his identity or even his own name.
Though his mind held no memories, the muscle memory of his body remained like conditioned reflexes.
He could paint, dine with the elegance of a gentleman from the movies, and tell stories that sounded refined and cultured.
He was always gentle with the people and things around him. Even when life was less than ideal, he remained quiet, hopeful, and never complained.
Shan Xiaoxi felt he must have suffered a very serious accident.
The name Vincent was given to him by Shan Xiaoxi because his brushstrokes reminded her of a certain famous painter.
Vincent’s paintings, much like the man himself, were gentle, delicate, and romantic, deeply influencing Shan Xiaoxi and ultimately inspiring her to apply to the Comprehensive Painting Department of the Aibin Academy of Fine Arts.
Thus, Vincent, who appeared to be in his thirties, became both a mentor and a friend to Shan Xiaoxi, who was just over twenty.
Both Shan Xiaoxi and Vincent were adults who could leave the welfare home and live independently, but they had long regarded it as their home. They chose to stay and continued to live there, dedicating most of their personal income to supporting the welfare home.
Evenings were dull. There was no television or internet here, with newspapers and mail being the only means of information dissemination.
The favorite activity for the children and elderly at the welfare home was baking bread together in the evenings. The aroma of wheat wafting from the kitchen instantly lifted their spirits and sense of happiness.
During these times, Vincent would sit by the kitchen door, sketching or writing. Besides painting, he occasionally wrote romantic poems to express his feelings and record his life.
Aunt Su Xi was the most skilled at baking bread. Everyone else could only assist her, running around under her direction.
Shan Xiaoxi rolled up her sleeves and kneaded the dough. She enjoyed this laborious task, as it also helped strengthen her arm muscles. She was no delicate young woman.
Director Liang Qin sat at the central dining table, with the welfare home’s various bills spread out before her.
Hearing Director Liang sigh, Shan Xiaoxi looked up and asked, “Aunt Director, is the money running short again?”
Shan Xiaoxi earned a salary from her internship at the gallery, most of which she gave to Director Liang, keeping only a small portion for daily expenses.
After Shan Xiaoxi’s brother was adopted, he often sent her money, which she deposited into a bank account. Shan Xiaoxi’s university tuition was paid from this fund, and there was still some money left.
Director Liang’s expression grew serious. “The East District hasn’t been very safe lately. People from the neighboring street who went out to work said there’s been another ‘Deformity’ attack, and it happened not far from Green Grass Street.”
Deformities were humans, animals, or plants harmed by Crimson Moon radiation. They were irrational, terrifying in form, and highly aggressive.
The Fourth Ring had livestock farms.
Poor management at some farms led to the emergence of Deformities. In recent years, incidents of Deformities escaping from farms and attacking people had become increasingly frequent.
Thinking of the elderly and children at the welfare home, Shan Xiaoxi also felt the situation was serious. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Tomorrow, I’ll go ask Sister Ting for more information. If that Deformity hasn’t been caught yet, everyone should avoid going out for now. Vincent, you shouldn’t go out these next two days either.”
Vincent smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine. The grocery area is crowded, so if I come back early, it’ll be okay. You don’t need to pick me up after work tomorrow.”
The newspapers said that Deformities fear crowds, and so far, there have been no reports of Deformities appearing in crowded places. Moreover, Deformities only come out at night.
Shan Xiaoxi thought about it and felt Vincent was right. Besides, this way, she could go directly to Sister Ting after work tomorrow, so she nodded in agreement.
It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, but everyone returned to their rooms to prepare for bed. Without nighttime entertainment, early to bed and early to rise keeps one healthy.
It was a night filled with dreams.
In her dreams, there were relatives from her previous life, but their voices and faces grew increasingly blurry. There were stories in her dreams—experiences from her past life, vivid as if they had just happened.
Shan Xiaoxi was born with memories of her previous life.
That was a world vastly different from the one she lived in now. The world of her past life was peaceful and civilized, while this world was filled with inequality and danger.
Only the knowledge she had learned in her memories remained firmly etched in her heart, becoming her reliance as she struggled to survive in this world.