White powder-like substance dusted the ground, as if someone had spilled flour across the road. On either side of the path, incense sticks burned faintly, their spirals of smoke curling toward the gray sky, while a few unknown square objects, neatly shrouded in red cloth, stood solemnly nearby.

But the strangest sight of all were the two women sitting cross-legged in the middle of the road. They were middle-aged, clad in black Mandarin jackets, their hair loose and wild around ...