Huang Qi picked up a piece of white paper, read it again and again, and finally could only sigh.
The star of ginseng has fallen, but the star of commerce has not yet risen.
"Read it, and I will listen to you." Twelve-year-old Bai Zhi said while sitting on the roof.
So the thirteen-year-old Huang Qi held a book and read softly among the bamboo shadows.
The lovesickness is so profound that it is difficult to write on a blank page. The words are Sophora flavescens and Shang, so Tan Lang must read them.
When they were teenagers, they were still smiling in Yongning for ten years, and the subsequent stories had nothing to do with them.
This is enough.
Huang Qi let go, only to see the stars already hanging high in the sky.