The Golden Farce
Act I Yan Tang was twelve years old, and his hands were permanently stained with the black residue of the signal lamps, a fact that made the Headmaster look at him with the same pity one might reserve for a broken tool. The longtang in the shadow of the old pine forest smelled of wet rot and ozone, the air thick with the impending weight of the summer storm that had been building over the city...
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