In July, a blazing sun hung in the deep blue sky, and the clouds seemed to have been baked away by the heat, leaving not a trace behind.
The roadside trees looked sick, their leaves coated in a layer of dust and curled up at the tips. The branches were too lazy to move, only stirring perfunctorily when a heatwave-like breeze swept past, just to show they were still there.
Small flowers and grass drooped their heads listlessly, leaving only the cicadas in the trees straining their throats to cry, "Hot! So hot!"
Chapter 337