PREVIEW
...
A gentle breeze blew, and the wind chimes under the eaves tinkled softly. The lazy spring sun bathed everything in warmth.
Han Cheng sat against the southern wall, holding a stick in his hand. He carefully examined it in front of his eyes, straining his eyes a bit, but he still couldn't see any patterns on the stick.
Han Cheng rubbed his slightly sore eyes and put the stick back into the clay pot by his feet.
The clay pot was dry, and some tender yellow leaves ...
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