Nagaril saw a sharp increase in rainfall during the summer.
The heavy rains did not last very long. Sometimes they came in a single burst, and after ten-odd minutes, the rain clouds dispersed.
The rain came quickly and left just as quickly, changing unpredictably.
Nagaril, freshly washed by a downpour, now carried the refreshing vitality of nature—something it had never possessed before.
The old Nagaril was backward and impoverished, and everything those traits brought with them made the place look like one enormous garbage dump.
Back then, most cities in Nagaril did not even have basic drainage systems. Whenever heavy rain fell, the lower-lying parts of the cities turned into puddles.
All kinds of garbage floated up with the rainwater and drifted across the surface.
When people made their way through the streets, they had to roll up their trouser legs and wade through foul-smelling sewage and garbage.
Once the water gradually receded and the sun beat down, the garbage—already nearly devoid of moisture—would absorb the rainwater again, begin fermenting and rotting, and release a fresh wave of stench.
The Nagaril of the past had not seemed like a place fit for human habitation, but now it was completely different.
Even the cities in the western region had complete drainage systems.
Garbage discarded carelessly was rarely seen on the clean, orderly streets.
Garbage could be sold for money, and people were also punished for littering. At first, they did not care, but after enough of them were punished, they understood that it was something they could not do.
Actually, on this issue, humans were not all that different from other animals.
When your dog bared its teeth at you, you gave it a good beating, and it learned who the master was and stopped doing it.
At least, it stopped