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... g in the middle of the night, and hadn’t stopped. The courtyard of the temple had just been swept clean, but it had already been covered with a layer of silvery white.
The morning bell had already been sounded. The cold wind carried with it the indistinct sound of Buddhist chants as it flowed into a meditation room on the right hand side of the courtyard.
Sima Chaoqun sat silently on a prayer mat, listening, quietly drinking from a cold bottle of alcohol that he’d brought las ...
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