The seven masked figures leaned in. Their porcelain cracked further. And for the first time in a thousand years, one of them moved —a single, jerky step.
Then he heard it.
Soon, they were all dancing. Not beautifully. Not gracefully. But truly . And as they danced, the phrase inverted itself. The steles crumbled. Mei gasped, color flooding back to her eyes. hu hu bu wu. ye cha long mie
