45 The Dance in the Summer Cottage

The air in the Shengdu Village grew heavy with moisture, carrying the earthy scent of petrichor—a prelude to the impending deluge. Trees swayed in anticipation, their leaves whispered secrets of the coming storm. Birds hastened to find shelter, their frantic chirps faded into the gathering gloom.

As the first droplets fell, they pattered softly against the ground, a gentle prelude to the fury that loomed. The wind picked up, and its mournful howl echoed through the night, a harbinger of the tempest's might.

Flashes of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the darkness with jagged brilliance. Each bolt cracked like a whip, tearing through the heavens with unbridled fury. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a deep, primal roar that shook the very earth beneath.

Rain poured down in sheets. It drummed against windows and rooftops, a relentless symphony of nature's wrath. Puddles formed in the streets, reflecting the fractured light of the storm above.