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Chapter 1798 - 19: A Few Questions
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... then on my steps became light."
—— Tagore, Stray Birds
Zheng Qing felt this sentence fit his mood perfectly, so he marked it with a wavy line using a feather pen. Then he stretched, closed the poetry collection in his hand, and looked up at the window.
Outside the window, it was daytime.
Birds sang in the shade of trees, insects buzzed over the bushes, butterflies fluttered their wings, dodging the saliva spewed by Grass Spirits, while flowers smiled happily, watc ...
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