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Ning Yunmiao transformed into light and departed.
Song Yan sat down, his fingers brushing over the stone tablet, where pure ink-like meaning rippled between the stones, conveying the feelings of the owner from countless millennia ago to future generations.
He ground ink and took paper, copying the inscriptions on the tablet.
Every word and sentence were but simple daily expressions, yet such simplicity best fosters tranquility and peace of mind.
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