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Someone once told me that calamus means resurrection.
Resurrection, this is a deal with the devil. Give a transparent soul in exchange for wings of freedom.
The quaint and quiet Japanese-style old house has left traces of vicissitudes for it, and it has also been infected with a proud and rigorous atmosphere.
The two ladies sitting indoors, both wearing exquisite kimonos, talked in a low voice with a little smile.
It was not until the paper door was opened that the two stopped. The lady in the dark green kimono turned to look at the door, while the lady in the dark black kimono still looked at the door.
A child of about seven or eight years old was kneeling at the door, with fine eyes and a clear and shallow smile on his mouth. Some immature faces reveal a very quiet atmosphere. Short curly blue-purple hair, blowing slightly with the breeze. The sun behind him fell, giving him a faint golden light, fair complexion, giving people a crystal clear feeling. A purple kimono is a bit too mature and solemn, but it gives birth to a proud and noble temperament when worn on this child.
"Who is such a beautiful child?" The dark green kimono lady asked with a smile.
The child respectfully saluted, but before making a sound, Xuan Mo Kimono's wife had said, "Not his own child, but he is very popular with the elderly." ...
It should be the whole book.