The Pale Tower

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2026-08-25 07:45:37 -

The Pale Tower

The arithmetic of the market was loud, a constant clatter of abacus beads that seemed to grind against the stillness of the air. Tao Zhu woke in the narrow bed of his upper room, the scent of damp mulberry wood and old fish paste clinging to the sheets. He remembered the dream again: his sister, Mei, standing in the dark, her hand withered to the size of a sparrow, fingers curled around...

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