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At the lane's mouth, the peddler's fingers keep busy, bright bundles flipping like a troupe. A child tosses th…

At the lane's mouth, the peddler's fingers keep busy, bright bundles flipping like a troupe. A child tosses three copper coins and laughs, cradling an immortal riding clouds.

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At the lane's mouth, the peddler's fingers keep busy, bright bundles flipping like a troup… | Where Winds Meet Database