The Wind That Passes Through Dasheng Rises from Chang'an

Sweetwater Lane. The name sounds elegant, but in fact it is a narrow alley crowded with peddlers, gossips, and half-grown men. At this moment, Shen Ci was slumped on a creaking bamboo rocking chair. One leg of the rocking chair was padded with half a green brick with a chipped corner. As he rocked, it made a very rhythmic "er-er-" sound. Shen Ci closed his eyes, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the crooked neck willow tree and shone on his too delicate face. He was holding a piece of dogtail grass that he picked from somewhere, and was having a profound philosophical conversation with the big flowered rooster squatting on the wall out of boredom. "Dahua, we have to be reasonable." Shen Ci closed his eyes and his voice was as lazy as if he had no bones. "You always say that your mother has the egg first, but if there is no egg, how did she pop out? Is it a monkey that got out of the cracks in the rocks?"