Lin Haoran wanted to struggle against the little ghost's teasing, but his limbs were grabbed and yanked about like noodles, leaving him with no strength to resist. He could only sway along with the little ghost as it pushed him on a swing.,All eyes beheld a crowd clad in homespun tunics, their waists cinched with pale cloth belts. Both men and women sported long hair, styled into loose topknots atop their heads. The faces of the elder men bore etchings of hardship deeper than the yellow earth itself.,Lin Hao stood before a solid stone arch bridge, facing the intoxicating spring breeze. He looked at the farmers working diligently on both sides of the river and the women picking mulberry leaves, but his eyes were filled with melancholy.。