# 1
**Chapter 1: Black Silk Across the Eyes**
Scorching August.
Beep—beep—!
Harsh cicadas and blaring car horns mingled above the crowded street. The blazing sun roasted the gray asphalt; heat shimmered, making the whole road look twisted.
In one of the few patches of shade, a cluster of youngsters lounged, cigarettes dangling as they waited for the light.
One of them, mid-exhale, suddenly grunted and stared toward the corner.
“Arno, what’re you looking at?” the guy beside him asked.
The young man named Arno kept his gaze fixed. “Tell me… how does a blind guy cross the road?”
His friend blinked. “Usually they’ve got someone with them, or a guide dog. In a modern city the lights talk, too. Worst case, he shuffles across tapping his Guide Cane, listening for cars.”
Arno shook his head. “What if he’s alone, no dog, no talking light, and he’s using his Guide Cane to carry Peanut Oil?”
“…You think you’re funny?”
The buddy rolled his eyes, then followed Arno’s stare—and froze.
Across the intersection stood a boy in a black T-shirt, thick black cloth wrapped many times over his eyes, blocking every trace of light.
His left hand held a cheap plastic bag stuffed with vegetables; his right hand gripped his Guide Cane slung across one shoulder like a carrying pole. At the cane’s end, a huge bucket of golden Peanut Oil glinted in the sun.
Black silk blindfold, cane on shoulder, veggies in left, oil on right…
The bizarre sight drew a swarm of onlookers.
“Hey, check that weirdo.”
“All that cloth over his eyes—can he even see?”
“Duh, he’s holding a Guide Cane—guy’s obviously blind.”
“Who still wraps their eyes in cloth in this heat? Doesn’t it itch?”
“And since when do blind guys use their cane as a shoulder pole?”
“Kids these days…”
Cicadas couldn’t drown the murmurs. People studied him, debating whether he was really blind, eyes on the flashing red light.
Then a clear voice piped up beside him.
“Big brother, want me to help you cross?”
A schoolgirl, maybe twelve, sweat-dappled, big dark eyes full of worry.
The boy tilted his head, smiled.
“Sure.”
He hung the veggie bag on his right hand, wiped sweat from his left on his shirt, and took her small hand.
Click—green light.
He stepped off, steady, girl darting nervous glances at traffic.
To the crowd it looked less like a kind kid leading a blind man, more like an older brother escorting a little sister.
A dozen seconds later they reached the far side. He thanked her and walked off toward a quiet alley.
“He’s not blind,” Arno declared. “He can see.”
Behind him another youth snapped his fingers. “I get it—he’s cosplaying Blind Monk!”
Smack—Arno slapped the back of his head. “Idiot, all you know is games. Who cosplays Blind Monk in traffic? And Blind Monk wears red cloth, not black.”
“Arno, you’re no better…”
“Shut it.”
“…’kay.”
A third guy, silent till now, frowned at the retreating figure.
“What?” Arno asked.
“I know him.”
“Know him?”
“My cousin’s in grade school. Ten years ago a kid there had an accident—eyes ruined, had to wrap them in black cloth. Rumor said mental issues too.”
“Mental issues? He seemed fine.”
“Was a long time ago. Maybe he’s healed. Story made waves—kid dropped out, transferred to a special school for the blind.”
Another chimed in, excited: “What kind of accident blinds you and screws your mind? Possession?”
“Dunno. But they say it was weirder than that.”
“Poor guy,” Arno sighed. “Name?”
“Lin… Lin Qiye, I think.”
…
Twilight. Lin Qiye pushed open a door.
The smell of food hit him instantly. He swallowed, lugged his bags inside.
Creak—!
The old door screeched, drowning the sizzle from the kitchen. A middle-aged woman rushed out, aproned, gasping.
“Xiao Qi, why carry all that at once?” She wiped her hands, relieving him of the bags. “Such a big bucket of Peanut Oil? Don’t tell me you spent the disability grant again.”
“Auntie, the grant is for living expenses. Oil counts.” He grinned.
“Nonsense. That money’s for college. My wages feed us fine. Don’t you dare waste it.”
She polished the oil drum, wincing. “Brand-name, this size… pricey, huh?”
Suddenly she blinked. “Wait—how’d you haul it all?”
“Met some kind folks who helped.”
“Good, good. Did you thank them?”
“I did.” He changed the subject. “Where’s A Jin?”
“Balcony, homework. Oh—the hospital’s check-up doctor’s here, resting in your room. Go say hi; I’ll finish cooking.”
Lin Qiye paused, nodded, headed for the bedroom.
…
“Hello, I’m Doctor Li from Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital.”
A young man with thick black frames rose from a small stool, smiling politely.
Lin Qiye raised an eyebrow. “Used to be Doctor Han.”
“Promoted to vice-director last year.” Doctor Li’s eyes shone with envy.
Lin Qiye shrugged. Makes sense.
The doctor cleared his throat, pulled out a thick file. “Sorry, I’m new. Need to review your case.”
Lin Qiye nodded.
“Name: Lin Qiye?”
“Yes.”
“Seventeen?”
“Yes.”
“Records say you went blind ten years ago and were admitted to us for related issues?”
“Correct.”
Doctor Li hesitated. “Did you ever change your name?”
“No. Why?”
The doctor scratched his head. “Well—you went blind at seven, and your name is Lin Qiye—‘Seven Nights.’ Figured you picked it afterward…”
Lin Qiye was quiet. “Never changed it. My parents chose it before I was born.”
“Quite the… coincidence,” Doctor Li muttered, catching himself.
He flipped pages. “There’s no detail on the accident. Mind telling me? Helps treatment, but only if you’re comfortable.”
Lin Qiye sat still; beneath the black silk, his eyes seemed to study the doctor.
At last he spoke: “Nothing secret—just doubt you’ll believe it. You might even lock me back in.”
“No, no—this is just friends chatting. Say the Old Lord dragged you into his furnace—I’ll believe.”
Lin Qiye gave a tiny nod.
“As a kid I loved astronomy.”
“And?”
“One night I lay on my old roof, watching the moon.”
“See the jade rabbit?” the doctor joked.
Lin Qiye shook his head. His next words froze the smile on Doctor Li’s face.
“No. I saw an angel.” He lifted his hands, sketching wings.
“A blazing seraph, six white wings, wrapped in golden light.”