In this world, the only thing we can be certain of is that the future is full of uncertainty.
Zheng Qing had heard this sentence many times, but each time it carried a different taste.
For instance, he could never imagine that one day, from Lin Zhong Lake to Alpha Fortress, wizards in white robes would join forces with those in red robes, burning their own straw figures together in front of a bonfire; or that the commission he made at the Wandering Bar the night before would bring him very useful information the next morning; or that he would end up with bruises all over his face on the thirteenth Monday of his second year.
A butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon can cause a tornado in Texas weeks later.
Similarly, one ordinary evening after finishing his college entrance exam, a whim led Zheng Qing to pick up a Little Fox, which a year later had him with a sack over his head, knocked out with a club.
The clubbing happened on a Sunday night.
