The Pale Bonsai
Could you really tell if the roots were bleeding, or if the ink was just wet? Chapter One Feng Zhou held the shears steady. His hand did not shake. He was twelve years old, and his fingers were stained with the black grease of the typesetting room, a fact that the Head Gardener, Lao Shen, found distasteful. The study smelled of old paper and damp stone. Outside, the wind pushed against the high...
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