The night revealed its inner self only after soaking the skin of the alleys for a long time. The dust and grease, flattened by human feet during the day, came back to life as they absorbed the moisture, and even though it had been a while since the rain stopped, thin pools of dark red water remained on the ground. Lantern light spread over them. From afar, it looked like the remains of a sunset; up close, it looked like blood pooled in a long-unwashed wound. Signs hung crookedly like old teeth, and red lanterns swelled and shrank between them.

After midnight, a new alleyway that hadn't existed until yesterday appeared between the shutters of a closed pharmacy and an old general store. Following that alley, at some point, the scent of incense reached one before the warmth of a human body. Damp paper, half-burnt joss paper, old wood, medicinal herbs, and cheap cigarette smoke tangled together and clung to the tip of the nose. Some people turned back just from the smell.

There was no opening of doors, no voice announcing the market was open; at some point, stalls were filling the edges of the road. On yellowed cloths, talismans with smeared red writing were piled in layers, and paper-folded people, horses, and houses were shoved haphazardly into bamboo baskets. In several glass bottles, murky water surged, reflecting transparent intentions.

Somewhere, an old television spat out a blizzard of static without rest. There was a story that if one stared at the screen for a long time, a face would emerge through the noise, and it was said that anyone who recognized that face would return to the market within three days. People lowered their gazes every time they passed the television, wary of everything. However, the merchant selling it tapped the antenna with his finger as if it were nothing, saying he would lower the price.

Beside it, joss paper burned. Every time a thin sheet of paper curled into the red furnace, the flame brightened for a moment before spitting out black ash. The ash could not settle on the ground and drifted through the air. Under the roofs of the market, there were many things that burned but did not disappear, and usually, it wasn't just paper.