Mia C

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After the tumult of a storm on the sea, the moon rises high above the clouds, painting the water and the heavens in one color. No billows or swells, no joy or sorrow. In late spring the thick brush grows, early autumn sees the layered clouds drift; within the well a lone lamp shines, upon the colored glaze does the moonlight glint.
Thousand Autumns: Qian Qiu (Novel) Vol. 1
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