Chapter 137: In Search of Autumn’s Mountain Delicacies Heavy rain poured down, drumming a dull rhythm on the ceramic tiles of the roof, pattering against the leaves, and splashing into the water with crisp slaps... Watching the rain and listening to it served no real purpose—it was mostly a way to space out and reflect. Lin Heng recalled a poem and sighed with feeling: “When young, I listened to the rain from a brothel tower, Red candles dim behind gauze curtains…” “That was a great…