Early in the morning, Losa woke up from his dreams.
Facing the faint morning light streaming through the window.
A cold greeting rang in Losa's ears.
"Good morning."
Outside the curtains.
Prajna was lying on a soft couch padded with tapestry, holding a book in her hand and said, "Last night, I finished organizing the first volume of Song of Winter and Summer."
The word "organize" was somewhat understated, as it actually involved polishing, revising, and padding—this was quite a major project.
Although Losa's memory had significantly improved due to the increase in spiritual power, it was impossible for him to narrate his story word for word; many details needed to be filled in.
So is Prajna actually an excellent novelist?
"There's no need to rush."
Losa explained, "Because the print shop hasn't moved over yet, even if you organize it well, it can't be printed."
"Hmm."
Prajna paused in silence: "I know, but I have nothing else to do either."
