It was late at night when Ling Chengyan suddenly awoke, eyes wide open. The wind had started, sweeping over the grasslands with a mix of grassy fragrance and, more dominantly, the smell of earth and dust.
Around the soldier station, many trees had been planted: birch, apricot, and crabapple. The wind howled through the branches, bringing with it a sharp whistling sound, partially veiling the dust.
The small huts of the soldier station stood firm in the strong wind, anchored to the ground like stones. Because of their low height, they were less likely to be blown away.
The wind was brief; after it passed, there was silence for a few minutes, maybe just seconds, but with a sense of impending pressure. Then, the rain came.
The sound of rain approached from afar, finally drumming on the tile roof of the soldier station, creating a dense pattering. The raindrops were large, the rain was astounding.
