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... he rain painfully cold, begrudgingly withholding spring’s brightness.
Ten thousand flowers remain unseen, idle worries occupy too many thoughts.
Ren Zhongqing really disliked rainy days, especially this continuous spring rain that made everything feel damp and gloomy, the sky obscured by gray. But he loved reciting poems, especially those well-written yet obscure ones, seldom read by others.
In the fairy tales he read as a child, those immortal masters always liked to rec ...
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