Evening.
The slanted moon casts its last rays, the copper candle has wept its last tears, the cool dew lightly wets the clothes...
The white bones of this worldly life are finely textured and clearly grained.
The dissection table in this world is clean, tidy, and brightly colored.
The freshly boiled white bones still seem to emit steam, lying on the cold dissection bed, like a lady who hasn't awoken from her spring dream, tender and charming.
Jiang Yuan sat on a high stool, rubbing a piece of white bone with one hand while pondering.
Miao Ruixiang carefully wrote the report beside him, clearly not finding it easy. After a while, he quietly got up and discreetly added a stick of incense to the Xuande censer by the wall facing the door.
The thin incense stick burned slowly, and its smoke instantly calmed Miao Ruixiang's mood.
Jiang Yuan also smelled the aroma and turned his head.
