Western Jin Yingdu, Vajra Zen Temple.
The winter dusk came early, barely an hour after lunch, the sky had become increasingly dark. The iron-gray sky, the sun was large and dim, hung in the sky with a dull light devoid of warmth.
A few cold crows screeched past, some alleys in the city were already too dark to see the road, and a sense of desolation filled the Vajra Zen Temple, leaves scraped noisily across the ground, the bare branches looming like cracks in the sky.
Inside the temple was bone-chilling cold, the main hall was pitch-black, light barely penetrated a mere inch before being swallowed by darkness. Only a side hall emitted a bit of dim yellow light, the only place in the hall with any warmth.
Suddenly, a harsh coughing broke out in the side hall, as if someone were trying to cough up their lungs, causing a pang of sympathy in those who heard.
