The sun rises and the moon falls, the flowers bloom and wither; death and reincarnation are inevitable to all the living spirits of the world.
After people pass away, they enter the Underworld; even those souls who aren't humans all change into human forms to walk through the Gate of Hell and the Road of Huangquan to the Underworld.
Between the Road of Huangquan and the Underworld is the River of Wangchuan: the river of forgetfulness.
The water of this river is blood red, filled with wandering souls who could not be reincarnated.

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Crimson flowers bloomed next to the turbulent and ever-flowing river; they had no leaves and the petals were long and slim like needles.
Where the flowers bloomed was called the Shore, and a tall bamboo building stood on the Shore for thousands of years.
A mysterious man called Mr.
Wangchuan; no one knew whether he was a supernatural being or an immortal.
Those who met him before said that he was dressed in white, his hair was tied up by a single ribbon with breathtakingly distinct facial features.
The souls and ghosts of the Underworld called him the Ghost Doctor because he treated illnesses for them.
He could cure all sorts of complicated and strange illnesses no matter what, but he had a rule — all comers must swim across the River of Forgetfulness to the Shore, yet the river was filled with extreme poisons which could corrode all souls.
Even if they tried to cross the river without any illnesses, they would lose half of their life, and that was why very few souls had met him.

There were no days or nights in the Underworld.
There were no so-called dark nights or daytime, time flowed like torrents in the river.
Snow Fox sat on the grass while resting her cheeks in her hands and sighed as she watched the souls who lined up to cross the Naihe Bridge, “Ahh.”

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“Why are you sighing, Sister Snow Fox?” Parrot appeared behind Snow Fox.
She wore a red dress that dragged to the floor with a few crimson flowers in her hands.

Snow Fox glanced at the flowers in Parrot's hands and asked carelessly, “Is Mr.
Wangchuan curing souls again?”

“You are half right.
The patient is a giant python this time.” Parrot pouted.
Her face was small and delicate, looking at most fifteen or sixteen of age, but she had lived on the Shore for over five hundred years.

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