Memories of a Bunny
The chest had two compartments. The one on the left was filled with clumps of clay, whereas the one on the right was filled with … dried grass and leaves.
Or at least, so it would appear to anyone else stumbling upon it. But I needed only one glance to know what those desiccated greeneries on the right side were. With utmost care, I picked up a twine of palm fronds lying at the top of the pile, placing it gently in my hand.
The fronds were woven into the shape of a bunny. The weaves and braids had come loose over the years, and the lively green had turned into a dull shade of yellow, but I could still easily recognize from the outline of its chubby belly and fat ears that this was a clumsy work of mine—I had made it during my first spring at Mount Hua, after my first rescue of hurt animals from Bai Ye's garden.