PREVIEW
... ight that Ning Que and Sang Sang lived in the house in Linsiqi Lane.
Looking at the calligraphy and paintings hanging all over the room, and the faint fragrance of ink wafting from the desks, Ning Que stood in the store and looked around, as if he saw a new life beckoning to him. He always liked writing. Even if there is no paper, ink, brush or inkstone beside him, only a dead tree branch or a **** umbrella soaked by rain, he will write on the mud or bluestone board from time to time. O ...
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