—
1982, early summer.
It was a very quiet afternoon.
He Linze, who had just woken up from his nap, was still a bit groggy, his brows knitted together as he sat on the bed with an impatient look, turning his head to look out the window.
The sunlight streamed in through the thin curtains, and the incessant chirping of cicadas outside was giving him a bit of a headache.
He sat there for a while, but the noise from outside still didn't cease.
He grabbed a book from beside his pillow and threw it towards the window.
He had grown a little tired of reading before his nap and had opened the window to let in some air, forgetting to close it.
With that throw, the book flew straight out of the room.
Then he heard a very soft "ouch" from outside.
A gentle and delicate voice.
It was like a cat meowing.
Oddly, this cleared away much of the irritation that had been agitated by the noise.
