Fairyland Limit

At this moment, the sun sets in the west, and the golden afterglow shines through the dilapidated window lattice into an adobe house of less than ten square meters. The furnishings in the room were extremely simple, with a bed made of old wooden boards covered with straw, a wooden table with missing legs, and a cracked clay pot, which were all the belongings. Lin Mo sat in front of the wooden table, holding a dark steamed bun in his hand, nibbling it in small bites, frowning slightly. He is sixteen years old, with a thin body and a somewhat sallow complexion. He only has a pair of eyes, which are astonishingly bright, as if they are hiding stars, and reveal a tenacity that belies his age.