Daxia, year thirty, and once again came the spring and autumn of the fifth year.
The leaking house always seems to meet with ceaseless overnight rain; the heirloom treasure has coiled up in Gu Wen's arms, watching as water continuously drips down. It looks up at Gu Wen and calls out a few times.
"It's nothing, just a little rain; the house won't collapse."
Gu Wen had long grown accustomed.
After the myriad transformations to the mundane, this house had also been standing for about forty years. Even buildings made of steel and cement need inspections, let alone a wooden house.
If it hadn't been for Xiao Yunyi's major repairs some time ago, it would have probably collapsed.
Now, the only reason he remained here was that Gu Wen had nowhere else he wished to go, and this was a place where old acquaintances had lived.
Suddenly, the door was opened, and a figure in white clothes, wet with rain, entered the room.
