The rain in the old city always has a stale smell, like moldy tea that has been brewed for ten years, splashing on the bluestone road, and the splashing water is covered in ash. When Lin Jiuye closed his umbrella, his bony fingers paused on the umbrella ribs. The water droplets on the umbrella surface flowed down the dark red tung oil coating, forming small puddles at his feet, reflecting his face half hidden under the bamboo hat.
