While reading this book, I kept being reminded of the once-popular series "Soul Ferry". Both share a similar sense of imaginative storytelling, with moments of fulfillment and moments of regret. I hope a good team can bring this story to the screen as well—that would be truly fulfilling.
—Reader Meteor

★ In this world, no one is just a bystander; we are all part of the story.

★ A collection of Eastern fantasy stories that combines the strange and the narrative!

★Each tale is fresh and intriguing, woven together by the journeys of two fictional protagonists — "The Other Shore" and "Era" — featuring gods, ghosts and spirits as key characters. Through nine standalone yet interconnected stories, the book explores themes of love, friendship, and morality.

★A profound bond that transcends identity and fate, while delving into themes of humanity, compassion, and destiny. Breaking free from clichés of existing eastern fantasy tropes, it offers a refreshing and thought-provoking read.

In an ancient underground palace, a mysterious woman known as the "Stone Maiden" quietly awakened. She possessed extraordinary abilities, allowing her to sense the supernatural. Twenty years ago, she emerged from the palace and encountered young Xu Mengyao. Their fates became intertwined after an unexpected encounter.

Xu Mengyao, also known as the monk Daomin, is a character with a complex identity. He is both a disciple of Buddhism and deeply entangled in political intrigues. As the Stone Maiden interacted with him, her unique, playful yet kind nature gradually revealed itself. She repeatedly came to Xu Mengyao's aid when he faced difficulties, even secretly following him to Shou'an Temple. There, she accompanied him in a special way, whether he was practicing Buddhism or embroiled in complex political struggles.

As the story unfolds, the true identity of the Stone Maiden gradually surfaces. She is not an ordinary person but a special existence guided by the Buddha. Her actions often carry a sense of destiny, as if she was fated to accompany Xu Mengyao. After experiencing numerous political intrigues, Xu Mengyao gradually became an important strategist for Prince Nanjing, Yin Li. Although he was a Buddhist monk, he was inevitably drawn into worldly disputes. The relationship between the Stone Maiden and him also continued to evolve. Her feelings for him deepened, but she also realized that there was an insurmountable gap between them.

In the end, during a deep conversation, the Stone Maiden realized that her feelings for Xu Mengyao had transcended mere companionship. However, she also understood that Xu Mengyao would eventually return to the mortal world, and she must go back to her own world. During a farewell, the Stone Maiden threw the pebbles she had collected over the years into the sky, symbolizing her letting go of the past and her hope for the future.

Xiao Yan, an eccentric post-90s writer, is a Pisces-born '94 girl who has witnessed life's joys and sorrows, as well as the complexities of human nature. Freshly stepping into the workforce, she currently lives and works in Shanghai.

Prologue
Chapter 1: Alas, the Insect
Chapter 2: Laughing Life
Chapter 3: Bai Zixu
Chapter 4: Killer Ran
Chapter 5: Bai Mao Bi
Chapter 6: Tongji Xi
Chapter 7: Ghostly Hat
Chapter 8: Dusting the Eaves
Chapter 9: Flowers of the Other Shore

In the remnants of antiquity, where heaven and earth still swirled in chaos, where yin and yang had yet to part — there lay a boundary between the realms of the living and the dead. This place was called Candle Lane.

First Day of the Seventh Month, Year 31 of the Zhan Yuan Era. Yi Yuan Lodge.

"Qi Ye is my name." The proprietress leaned lazily against the doorframe, clad in pale green robes, as she unhurriedly rehung the plain paper lantern above her. Its dim, greenish glow seeped through the thin parchment, spilling over the threshold and casting an eerie pallor on her face.

The girl before her was striking — sharp-eyed, with an air of defiance, dressed in a vivid ruqun dress (a traditional Chinese dress consisting of a short jacket and a skirt) that almost seemed like a deliberate blurring of gender. She stood before the wooden counter, silent except for asking Qi Ye’s name, her gaze fixed on the stone plaque hanging on the wall.

For Yi Yuan Lodge, the plaque wasn’t the main attraction — the price list beside it was. But steering a guest’s attention there without seeming pushy required finesse. Qi Ye studied her, mentally weighing her words.

Then, abruptly, the girl turned. She tilted her chin toward the plaque. "Did you write the characters on this?"

Qi Ye kept her polite smile, shaking her head languidly. "No, my master wrote them. Copied from the stele at the lane’s entrance." She gestured vaguely, indicating a height of about two feet.


"Oh." The girl nodded, her expression indifferent and her tone perfunctory, with no intention of continuing the conversation.

Business required talk. And for a spirit as young as her, fresh to the lane, such detachment was unusual — most were either awestruck or wallowing in sorrow. Yet this one… there was something intriguing in her aloofness.

Before Qi Ye could speak, the girl’s gaze drifted to an object on the counter — a pure white bowl. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice slow and measured:

"Does every spirit pass through Candle Lane? Through this shop, sending letters to the living they left behind?"

"Oh?" Qi Ye chuckled. "Every one? Does this place look like it’s rolling in wealth to you?"

Across the street, the lane’s gambling den glittered with golden characters, its crowd surging like a tide. In comparison, Yi Yuan Lodge might as well have been closed.

"No", the girl admitted, her lips quirking faintly — a smile so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. But just as quickly, her eyes dimmed, her expression tinged with mockery. "Letters… no one cares about them anyway."

She lifted her chin, a shadow of sorrow crossing her face.

Qi Ye smirked inwardly. How dramatic—like some tragic heroine from a stage play. Outwardly, she shrugged. This girl wore the calm of one who’d weathered storms, yet beneath it, she was all tender sentiment. Not that Qi Ye could relate — she was more like an iron tree that hadn’t sprouted a single blossom of romance in centuries.

If she wanted to close this deal, there was only one way.

She turned, plucking a celadon wine jug from the shelf — its glaze elegant, unadorned — and paired it with an ink-black cup. Setting them before the woman, she poured, then arched a brow in invitation.
The girl eyed the cup warily. The liquid inside shimmered under the lantern’s glow, sinister as poison.

"Though served in a wine cup, it’s merely tea", Qi Ye said lightly. "And in this place, even real poison couldn’t kill you twice. What’s there to fear?"

The girl laughed softly but shook her head. "Drink this, and you forget the living — forget everything."
"Ah…" Qi Ye lifted the cup, swirling it teasingly. "Too many folktales, my dear. This is Yi Yuan Lodge. The Naihe Bridge is still a ways off."

A long silence. Then, finally, the girl took the cup. Tipped her head back. Drained it in one go.

As she set it down, her gaze drifted outside. The night was pitch, the clouds low. Candle Lane bustled — phantoms weaving through the crowd, laughter and curses mingling in the mist.

"June White." Not wine, but a tea so bitter it could intoxicate faster than the strongest liquor.

The woman’s detached gaze began to blur. Qi Ye smiled, watching the floodgates break behind those cold eyes—

And then, at last, the woman spoke again, her voice hushed, restrained:

"My name is Dao Ruo… Ruo as in ‘if not.’ Dao…"