The autumn rain is as dense as silver needles, pricking diagonally on the bluestone slabs of Qingyun School, splashing fine water splashes. The copper bell at the corner of the eaves swayed in the wind, making a clear yet somewhat desolate sound. Lu Chen squatted under the eaves of the service room, holding three ancient copper coins with his sharp-jointed fingers. The edges of the coins were rounded by the years, but the lines on them were still clear.
