The sound echoed under the eaves of the Imperial Supervision Office, with no response.
This enormous Imperial Supervision Office seemed truly to imprison only him.
Chen Ji shifted his gaze to the stack of Wenyuan Morning News.
He pondered for a long time, picked up the newspaper, returned to the room, lit an oil lamp the size of a soybean, and scrutinized every line of text in the dim light.
...
...
The morning of the eleventh day.
Chen Ji leaned on the door frame and yawned.
He originally got up to read the Treatise on Cold Pathogenic and Warm Pathogenic Diseases but got lost in thought for a moment. When he snapped back, he was already leaning on the door frame.
Chen Ji looked down at the moss growing on the ground after the autumn rain. He crouched down, his fingers gently brushing over the surface of the moss, wet, cold, a thin layer.
