Fog Lock Seven Day Bell
by Tiposk
About This Novel
I stood by the window of the tea room, my fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of the mug. My shadow was reflected in the glass window, the collar of my shirt was askew, and my eyes were glowing blue. This was the sequelae of following the demolition disputes in the urban village for three consecutive months. The printer suddenly made a piercing buzz, and when I turned around, I bumped into the green plants behind me. When I lifted up the scattered Brazilian wood leaves, I found a kraft paper package in the corner. The recipient column is written with a brush\
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