Thirty Spokes

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By Xiaoyao Xingzhe

The fierce sun glared down as I scurried from one patch of shade to another. Luckily this street had trees here and there. I squinted down at the scrap of paper. It had to be here somewhere, the Thirty Spokes Studio (힛枷輻匡렛 Sanshifu Wenfang). I had been sent to purchase brushes and paper for the monastery’s calligraphers, and they insisted I get them from this place …

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Individual