Sitting in a teahouse that she met by chance on the road, drinking cheap old green tea, the breeze blowing from the window drove the girl away from the fatigue of the journey.
Suddenly, the sound of a paper fan hitting the table caught the girl's attention.
Dressed in Tsing Yi, holding an old yellowed paper fan in his hand, with a faint smile on his lips, he was about the same age - the girl did not expect that there would be a storyteller in such a remote teahouse.
Her interest was instantly piqued. The girl supported her chin with her hand and stared at the storyteller with interest: her black hair was scattered messily, her chin was covered in fragments of black, and she had a pair of indifferent auspicious eyes.
He looks quite talented. The girl admired silently.
The fan in the storyteller's hand was opened when the girl praised him. The pure white fan half covered his lips, and a low but emotional voice sounded in this small teahouse:
"Speaking of which, the capital..."
Concept: The cruelty of war