The Wistful Mountain
Chapter One Did she truly believe that the ink would hold, or was the trembling in her hands a confession she had refused to sign? Chaiya Charoensuk stood in the kitchen of the estate, the steam from the rice cooker blurring the light from the single lamp, and watched the title documents on the table. It was a Tuesday, a day that had always belonged to the drunk uncle, Phrom, who claimed wisdom...
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