Posthumous Remnant Thought

"Ah!"

The sudden clap of thunder gave Hua She, who had been immersed in his thoughts, quite a fright. He hurriedly set down the printing block and rushed about in a fluster, closing every open window.

Woodblock printing required ventilation in ordinary times, yet feared dampness and could not get wet in the rain. Thus, closing the windows on rainy days was the most basic precaution. Hua She had long formed the habit; at the sound of thunder, he moved almost by reflex.

However, when he reached the last window, his movements suddenly froze. Leaning out to look, he saw a clear night sky, bright with moonlight, a gleaming crescent hanging plainly overhead. Where was there even the slightest sign of rain?

"That is strange. Could thunder strike out of thin air without any rain?"

As he wondered, the old gatekeeper called out, "Brother She, it is getting late. That thunder just now means it will most likely rain tonight. You should hurry home, lest you get soaked and catch a chill."

"Ah, thank you for the reminder, Uncle Zheng." Hua She shared the same concern. After thanking him, he returned to the room and tidied up, putting away the printing blocks he had taken out. Finally, he took a small block from a box, wrapped it up, and tucked it into his robes. Only then did he blow out the lamp and leave.

As he passed the gatehouse, the old man stopped him and handed over a lotus-leaf parcel with a smile. "Take this to little Xin. It has gone a bit cold, but it will fill her belly."

Hua She accepted it and opened it. Inside was a cold sweet potato. His eyes immediately reddened, but before he could speak, the old man said, "No need for any