HOÀN THÀNH
The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village
The First Stroke of Ink That morning, the dew had not yet completely disappeared from the thatched roof. Mr. Tam Muc was sitting cross-legged in front of the paper workshop's porch, one hand holding an old inkstone with frayed edges, the other hand holding a brush and holding it out in front of the girl standing behind the pillar. "Come here," he said, his voice as hoarse as the sound of bamboo leaves rubbing against each other. "You've been standing there waiting for me all morning. Are your legs tired yet?" Chu Diep Suong gingerly stepped out, her two tiny hands clutching the hem of her shirt. He's only six years old, his hair is braided to one side because he did it himself, his cheekbones are still...
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DANH SÁCH CHƯƠNG
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