The town is called Hegui, and the name is elegant. It is actually a palm-sized place, with a main street, two rows of tile-roofed houses, a ruined temple at the end of the street, a locust tree in front of the temple, and a tea shed under the locust tree.
There is a person leaning under the tea shed.
The gown was wrinkled and had been washed too many times, and the original dark green color had faded into a gray and autumnal tone. Half of the sleeves were rolled up, revealing the old wounds crisscrossing the forearm. He was napping with his chin propped up in one hand, and holding a pen in the other hand. The remaining ink from the tip of the pen spread on the white paper on the table, forming an incomprehensible ink stain.
The sunlight slanted down, illuminating the mole at the end of his eye, the almost invisible old scar on the bridge of his nose, and the faint smile at the corner of his lips.
The person who takes a nap is called Feng Zhiyan.
