The Golden Mirror
Chapter One Did you ever think a crack in the glass was a debt unpaid? I am Hong Zheng. I am twenty-four years old. I hold the post of night watchman for the granaries of the Jiangnan water town, a job that smells of wet rice and rust. The mirror in my hand is gold on the handle, but the glass is split. I found it in the mud three days ago. It was cold, heavier than it looked. I have carried it...
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