In the rolling orchards of the Southern Foothills, spring arrived in a breathtaking explosion of white and pale pink plum blossoms. Where imperial tax-farmers had once marched with armed bailiffs to seize seventy percent of every harvest, thousands of free peasant families now tended their terraced groves under the warm sunshine. The sweet fragrance of blooming plums and mountain clover filled the morning air, while bees hummed contentedly through the…
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