Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. 1. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned. “It’s precious unromantic. Wood.
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