He stood behind the desk for a long time without saying anything.
The room was filled with the faint scent of white sandalwood, the slightly bitter smell of medicine, the scent of ink from the scriptures and paintings, and even the smell of fireworks hidden in the white porridge...
The monk seemed unaware of what was happening behind him.
He was still meditating and chanting with his back to him.
The round Buddhist beads rolled over one by one, and the scriptures in front of him were turned over one page at a time.
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