Li City's air was very good.
Surrounded by green mountains on all sides, streams wound through the alleys.
At the corner guesthouse, two large red lanterns hung at the entrance. On the right, one read "Twenty-eight Nights Before It's Late," and on the left, "See Thrice-Thirty-Three with the Morning's Crow," and dangling on the edge of the door frame was a small, delicate wind chime that occasionally emitted a clear sound as it was brushed by the gentle breeze.
He Fang reclined under the eaves next to it, half-lying on a wooden rocking chair, with a thin book resting on her belly, slowly rocking with a creaking sound, looking up at the wind chime.
After living in Li City for three days, she was nearly voraciously indulging in this moment's comfort, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.
