The south wind rises, the peach blossoms fall, and the sun sets over the western mountains without returning.
Wei Xuan lay casually on the bamboo rocking chair, holding a cattail leaf fan and fanning it from time to time. There was a pot of cold tea on the table next to him, and an old yellow man lay at his feet, gnawing on bones...
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
