Books, countless books.
Old Man Qin Mang's house was like a library, filled with numerous books. While there were a lot of books, the place wasn't messy at all. The bookshelves were all properly categorized and arranged.
Xia Fei suddenly thought back to his days working in the library. Those calm days of studying now seemed hard to come by. When he had left the library, he had started on a long, dangerous, and stimulating road, and calm drew farther and farther away.
Items were not like people. While the books were still the same books in the library, the old man was nowhere to be seen, and Xia Fei felt a tinge of grief.
After standing for several seconds in the library, Xia Fei got a hold of himself and pulled aside a bookshelf, opening a secret tunnel.
