The fourth in Ice Paper’s series of albums inspired by the ancient wuxing system of phase relationships, 鬼火猎人 [Ghost-Fire Hunter] finds the rapper, singer-songwriter and producer exploring the ageless mysteries of life and death. “Nature and mutual generation and destruction lie at the heart of the metal, wood, water, fire and earth cycle,” the artist, also known as Wei Ran, tells Apple Music. “Every one of us moves naturally on our own path—whether forward or backward or pacing back and forth—in self-transformation, examination and reconciliation.” Like 2020’s 寒木居士 [Hermit of the Cold Wood], Wei’s fire album also draws from the yin-yang principle of opposing cosmic forces. “This is ancient philosophy and wisdom about the dao of heaven and earth, sun and moon, good and evil and beauty and ugliness,” the artist says. “There’s a symmetry to the track order, suggesting light and darkness and themes of birth, death and reincarnation.” Across the centreline of track 8, “离” [“Fire”], the album’s top half is reflected thematically and musically in its bottom half—“哭声“ [“Crying”] has a mirror-image in “静音” [“Silence”], while the layered harmonies and trap drums of “刹那” [“Instant”] are upended in the acoustic balladry of “永恒” [“Eternity”]. This duality extends to paired myths as well. “普罗米修斯” [“Prometheus”], a paean to superhuman tenacity, has a counterpart in “雪女” [“Yuki-onna”], an icy R&B lament taken from the Japanese myth about a predatory snow maiden. “People know the myth of Yuki-onna longing for love in the human world, and how she ruthlessly takes the life of anyone who breaks their promise,” he says. “But few people are aware of her origin: how she waited desperately in the snow for her lover to arrive. She believes in love and keeps her promises more than anyone else in the world.” Wei also takes time out from the myths and heady philosophy to enjoy more commonplace life-and-death experiences. “雨花” [“Rainflower”] originated as a demo called “Spirit Way”, but that changed when he found himself inspired by the world outside his window. “It was right before Nanjing’s rainy season that my colleagues and I were moving into our company’s new space,” he says. “The compound was overgrown with weeds and moss. We spent two days cleaning up the place, and then the rains arrived. A week later, new grass sprouted all over from roots buried under the gaps in the paving stones—and along the path inside the back yard, a tiny white flower bloomed.” That evening, he renamed the song “Rainflower” and wrote the lyrics for the chorus: “Flowers may wither uncontrollably/But they’ll bloom again after the storm.” Adding to the energy of the album’s climactic moments are contributions from musical guests, from the cinematic opener written, orchestrated and produced by Genshin Impact composer Yu-Peng Chen to Akini Jing’s ethereal vocalising on the instrumental dance track “英灵殿” [“Hall of the Brave Departed”]. And the closing track, a dramatic rap-driven cover of Sally Yeh’s 1991 anthem “潇洒走一回” [“Walk Cool”], gains an epic dimension thanks to the addition of Mongolian folk accents. “I was very fortunate to have Batubagen of Hanggai contribute to the middle section,” Wei says. “Morin khuur and throat singing correspond to a life’s final, earth-rending breath. And the closing drumbeat symbolises life to come.”