Crack—crack—
The soles of shoes crunch on wood chips, and the figure holding an oil lamp steps onto the scarred ruins.
The figure seems to be searching for something but finds nothing, only bending to pick up a fragment from the ruins upon leaving.
Mist rolls in from outside the town, and the figure leaves the ravaged street, limping from a sprained ankle.
There is a series of knocks on the houses with lit windows. But the occupants either ignore or extinguish the oil lamps by the windowsill.
As the Mist of Strangeness is about to engulf him, an old couple takes him in, letting him enter their warm, fire-lit home.
"Are you injured?"
They see the abrasions on the figure and his dust-covered clothes.
"What is your name?"
"Lu Li," he answers.
Realizing that this young man seems to have experienced something and needs peace and rest, the old couple arranges for him to stay upstairs.
"...We don't have much food left either. If you're hungry, you can drink some vegetable soup."
