C93 The Ideal of Elemental Cold

"Moo …"

"Cough, cough, cough …"

"Cluck, cluck …"

Listening to the various animal voices in the village, Mao Yuxi walked slowly among the fields that had just been harvested.

Pile after pile of fresh rice was piled up in a small hill in the field. Some were burnt to ashes and smoking.

Occasionally, a villager or two passed by, carrying a load or carrying a basket.

Seeing the person