About This Novel
When Zuo Dong woke up, he heard the continuous rain outside the window, and his heart sank again. He lay lazily on the bed, looking at the ceiling with slightly open eyes. There seemed to be a little more dust on the ceiling, and it looked neither black nor white, like an unwashed face. It rained for five consecutive days, which not only made the air humid, but also made the town where he lived sparse tourists, making the folk inn he opened even more deserted. The phone automatically chimed the time. It was now nine o'clock in the morning. Zuo Dong raised his arm and put it on his forehead, thinking about whether to get up later.
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