Just a day later, the Saturday night dance party at Shanglin Garden had already become somewhat blurry in Zheng Qing's memory.
He couldn't remember which witches he danced with that night, nor when Jiang Yu came to the dance floor to lead him away. He wasn't even sure if he had fulfilled Michael Tabbot's request to persuade Dylan to accept his Zombie Bride.
What Zheng Qing remembered most vividly were the thin strands of light on the ceiling, drifting like swimming dragons, casting a hazy and splendid glow.
That glow continued to flicker in front of his eyes, even as he sat on the back of the Haired Dragon on the return journey.
Of course, it could have been because he was traveling back at night, under a brilliant starlit sky, where the starlight stretched into thin lines as the Haired Dragon sped through the clouds, resembling the strands of light from that night under the ceiling.
"Wake up, snap out of it!"
