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The temple was half-abandoned, its caretaker nowhere to be found. Old Master Yang pushed open the creaking door and was greeted by the rhythmic sound of a loom. The stone floors inside had been swept clean, with half-dried vegetables laid out to dry.
Under the eaves, an elderly woman with graying hair worked at her loom, its wooden frame creaking with each movement. Old Master Yang’s expression grew distant, as if seeing the ghost of his long-departed ...
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