The Pale Path
III The silver clasp sat in the mud, tarnished and dull, reflecting not Lei Xu’s face but the empty sky above the river, a tragic irony of a man who sought to hold onto his identity only to find it was the one thing the world could not bear to keep. He remembered the night he cut it, the cold steel of the shears biting into the metal, the way the sound of the snap was swallowed by the wind that...
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