When I woke up, I was lying in a corner of Jamsil.
It was late autumn, and there was a hint of cold air on the muddy ground.
There are no windows in the Jamsil, and the surrounding light is very dim. Only simple wooden shelves can be roughly discerned, arranged in rows, and each one is piled with several layers of large, round dustpans.
The usual rustling sound like falling raindrops can't be heard, and the smell of dried mulberry leaves is everywhere. Silk nets are tangled between the dripping leaves, holding up cocoons as white as snowflakes.
Silkworm moths are lurking in this drowsy silence, waiting for one day soon to emerge from their cocoons.
The way of heaven is ignorant, and I am exposed to its poison; the way of God is ignorant, and others receive its blessings - evil!