Rainy nights in late summer are always particularly long.
Hu Tu was the only one left in the ancient books reading room on the top floor of the library, and the air was filled with the unique musty smell of old paper and a faint smell of dust.
As a graduate student in the history department, he has long been accustomed to this kind of environment, and is even addicted to it.
But tonight, the violent thunderstorm outside the window made him a little uneasy.
Spread out in front of him was the "War History of the 115th Division of the Eighth Route Army" with yellowed pages and cracked spines. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the rough pages of "1941 Yimeng Mountain Counter-mopping".
He has read this chapter no less than ten times, and can memorize almost every place name and battle, but he always feels that there is something missing, like watching history through a layer of frosted glass.
