When I regained consciousness, I found myself in an extremely dim stone chamber. I felt for my waist—Willow Wind was gone. Touching my body, I discovered I was covered with a thick cotton blanket, and beneath me seemed to be thick cotton padding. Even so, the cold still penetrated my bones.

I sat up wrapped in the blanket and, by the dim light on the wall, surveyed this small stone chamber. The construction was exquisite—the stone walls, floor, and ceiling were extraordinarily smooth, without a single visible seam.

Suddenly, a clear voice came from behind me: “Don’t bother looking. This place is too secure; we can’t escape.”

I quickly turned around and saw a figure huddled against the wall not far from me.

“Zhong Lin?” I recognized that voice.

She lifted her head, revealing large black eyes and a pointed chin—it was Zhong Lin, whom I had met at the Tianfeng Building.

I sat down beside her and asked, “How did you end up here?”

“Drugged unconscious. When I woke up, I was here,” she answered lazily.

Remembering my purpose, I hurriedly said, “Mu Yan isn’t the murderer of your family. That night, he was with me the entire time.”

Her body stiffened, and to my surprise, she said coldly, “I know it wasn’t him.”

I was stunned. “Then why did you tell others it was?”

Zhong Lin gave a cold laugh. “Indeed, it wasn’t him, but what difference does it make? It was someone from their Feng Lai Pavilion anyway. Blaming him isn’t the least bit unfair!”

I was shocked. “The people from Feng Lai Pavilion killed your family?”

She nodded slightly, seeming cold as she hugged her arms. “Those people first drugged us, then burst in when we were powerless. They brazenly announced they were from Feng Lai Pavilion. They dared reveal their identity because they thought none of us would survive… But I lived. I was pressed beneath my father and mother, covered in their blood. They thought I was dead…”

Her voice suddenly turned shrill: “Mu Yan was my third brother’s sworn brother. He said he would always be there for me… but he let those people storm into my home… So what if I accused him? Such an ungrateful wretch…”

“Slap!” I struck her face.

She stared at me blankly, her gaunt face already streaked with tears.

“Don’t hurt Mu Yan like this,” I lowered my hand and turned away, not meeting her eyes. “One day, you’ll regret it.”

She was quiet for a long while before suddenly asking, “You think I’m crazy?”

I took a breath and shook my head. “If I were you, I’d probably be even crazier.”

She laughed sharply and said no more.

With her emotions running high, I stopped talking to her.

Though imprisoned, I still had doubts about the Zhong family massacre.

If, as Zhong Lin said, Feng Lai Pavilion had wiped out the entire Zhong family, then wouldn’t they make use of someone like me who appeared out of nowhere trying to prove their innocence, rather than locking me up?

But if Feng Lai Pavilion had absolutely nothing to do with the Zhong family massacre, they wouldn’t need to imprison me either.

In this short time, I had already thought through the cause and effect of events. If my guess wasn’t wrong, then the Zhong family massacre must have some connection to Feng Lai Pavilion, but clearly, neither Mu Yan nor the Pavilion Master was involved.

Could it be internal strife? In this dungeon, I wasn’t worried about being silenced—I could only wait and observe.

Before long, footsteps approached, and a food box was passed through the small square opening under the iron door. Someone politely said, “Meal service for you both.”

I went over to take the food box, smiling. “Thank you.”

Zhong Lin sneered, “Such pretense.”

I opened the food box, which had three layers containing three or four dishes, a pot of wine, and some pastries.

I smiled at Zhong Lin. “See? They’re treating us quite well.”

Zhong Lin remained cold-faced. “Probably poisoned?”

I smiled and arranged the dishes on the ground, then took out the wine pot from the bottom layer, pleasantly surprised as I shook it. “It’s still hot—perfect for keeping warm.”

Zhong Lin gave a cold snort.

I poured the wine from the pot into the provided cups and realized it was premium Jinzhou Bamboo Leaf Green wine.

Bamboo Leaf Green—it was his favorite wine. When he dined, there was usually a small red clay stove on his table warming such a pot of the finest Jinzhou Bamboo Leaf Green. The wine’s fragrance would drift out with a faint bamboo leaf scent that brought peace to one’s heart.

In the stone chamber where day and night were indistinguishable, judging by the meal count, Zhong Lin and I had been here for three or four days.

The first two days, Zhong Lin wouldn’t speak, but later she gradually improved. We would lean together and chat about various things, like what kinds of rouge and powder she liked, or what novellas I had recently read.

Living so freely, the days weren’t hard to endure… though I still wanted to escape this dungeon.

That day, when the person responsible for our care delivered the food box again, I took it, and estimated he hadn’t gone far, I winked at Zhong Lin: “Begin.”

Zhong Lin understood and suddenly shouted: “The food is poisoned!”

I took the dishes out of the food box and smashed them on the ground with a “bang bang,” also shouting at the top of my lungs: “Zhong Lin! Zhong Lin! Something’s wrong! Help! Miss Zhong has been poisoned!”

Zhong Lin lay spreadeagled on the ground and hearing this, she glared at me fiercely, her voice very low: “Poisoned? Am I a rat…”

Ignoring her, I continued shouting: “Help! Someone’s dying…”

Footsteps quickly sounded outside, and the person who had delivered the food ran to the door asking: “What happened?”

I pushed Zhong Lin lying on the ground, adding a crying tone to my voice, acting very convincingly: “I… I don’t know, she ate the food and just collapsed…”

The person was somewhat skeptical: “Really?”

I turned my voice to indignant grief: “If you want us dead, just say so! Why poison the food? We can’t escape anyway!”

The person hurriedly said: “Wait a moment.” He took out his keys, opened the iron door, and hurriedly came in.

I waited until he came close, then suddenly struck, elbowing the back of his head. Zhong Lin also leaped up from the ground, her hands moving like lightning to seal a major pressure point in his chest. The man didn’t make a sound before collapsing to the ground.

We quickly searched him for keys and ran out.

What lay before us was a passage. The escape process was unexpectedly smooth—after leaving that door, we didn’t see any other guards.

We made our way to the end of the tunnel, where we found living quarters for the guards. Not only were there bedding and daily necessities but also several sets of spare Feng Lai Pavilion disciple uniforms. More surprisingly, my Willow Wind was among these items.

Zhong Lin and I each picked a disciple uniform to wear. I secured Willow Wind at my waist, used the keys to open the iron door above the tunnel, and climbed up from underground.

The exit was beside a lotus pond, across from which was that waterside pavilion. From the position of our stone chamber, it seemed to be under this lotus pond—no wonder it was so cold even in early summer.

Wearing Feng Lai Pavilion disciple uniforms, we were about to sneak out when we encountered a Feng Lai Pavilion disciple coming toward us. He looked at us, smiled, and turned away.

Zhong Lin and I looked at each other in dismay, then heard warning bells ringing from all around, each peal more urgent than the last.

I had thought these Feng Lai Pavilion disciple uniforms might fool a few people, but they were completely useless!

Zhong Lin and I exchanged glances and hurriedly fled.

The scenery retreated rapidly as we ran in panic, and in a moment of confusion, we ran back to the courtyard where the Feng Lai Pavilion Master lived.

A woman in white appeared before us, her eyes sharp as she commanded sternly: “Stop these two!”

The disciples who had hurriedly gathered from all around received the order and drew their weapons, charging forward. I fumbled to draw Willow Wind and retreated to the roadside, watching as the flood of swords and blades approached.

A blade of light descended from above, deflecting the sword thrust at my face. Mu Yan had arrived, positioning himself with his blade between us and them.

That white-clad woman was the one I had seen from the carriage that day. She narrowed her eyes and said coldly: “Hall Master Mu, you want to help outsiders?”

Mu Yan gave a light laugh, raising his short blade. His usually lazy voice turned cold: “Everyone stands back, or don’t blame my blade for being merciless!”

The disciples hesitated upon seeing Mu Yan. Taking advantage of this moment, Mu Yan reached back to take Zhong Lin’s hand: “Follow me out.”

Zhong Lin froze for a moment, then violently pulled her hand from his grasp. Mu Yan was stunned.

This young lady—now wasn’t the time to be temperamental. I quickly grabbed her hand and nodded to Mu Yan: “Let’s go quickly.”

Mu Yan nodded, clearing a path with his blade while I and Zhong Lin followed closely. Without orders to pursue, the disciples didn’t strongly obstruct us.

Before leaving, I looked back and through the pearl curtains of the waterside pavilion, caught a distant glimpse of the white-clad woman bowing her head beside someone in green, seemingly reporting something. From this distance, both figures were blurry—was that the yet-unseen Feng Lai Pavilion Master?

Mu Yan knew the paths better than us, and following him, we soon saw the outer wall. He wrapped an arm around each of our waists and leaped over.

After clearing the wall and landing, Zhong Lin and I stood steady, but Mu Yan stumbled. I hurried to support him: “You were so badly injured days ago, don’t push yourself.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Zhong Lin’s body tremble, but she said nothing, biting her lip and turning her face away.

Before Mu Yan could speak, a flash of light swept past our sides.

Along with an extremely fine silver thread shooting forth, a clear voice rang out: “Hall Master Mu, it seems inappropriate to privately remove people from the Pavilion Master’s dungeon, doesn’t it?”

Without thinking, Mu Yan struck out with his blade. With a flash of blade light and a “ding” sound, that silver thread rapidly retracted. Mu Yan stepped back, looking at the scratch on his short blade, his voice somewhat cold: “Hall Master Nie.”

The newcomer wore all white, with features as delicate as a woman’s, but those thin lips and narrow phoenix eyes held an inexplicable chill. Behind him stood a row of Feng Lai Pavilion disciples holding crossbows.

With a light twist of his fingers, he retracted the silver thread he had just released. His other hand remained hidden in his sleeve, his face expressionless, his half-closed eyes somehow showing a faint ice-blue: “Hall Master Mu, bring these two women back with me.”

Mu Yan said nothing, but moved suddenly, his short blade sweeping out directly at Hall Master Nie’s neck.

From Hall Master Nie’s sleeve burst countless silver lights, like a multi-petaled silver chrysanthemum suddenly blooming. He spread his arms, the silver threads between his fingers shooting toward Mu Yan in layers.

The light from Mu Yan’s blade spread cold as water, instantly attacking Hall Master Nie’s front. Nie Hanrong lightly dodged, his fingers moving slightly. The silver threads crossed and recrossed with a hissing sound, the chaotic thread lights swiftly recoiling and entangling endlessly.

This was the supreme skill of the Hua Xian Gate. Within Feng Lai Pavilion, Jingmu Hall’s Master Nie Hanrong was currently Hua Xian Gate’s top expert. The weapons used by their sect members were extremely fine yet sturdy steel wires—extremely thin but also extremely sharp, killing invisibly.

Nie Hanrong was Hua Xian Gate’s most accomplished practitioner in decades. Before joining Feng Lai Pavilion, he was already among the top ten experts in the jianghu. Who knows how many heroes had died unclear deaths under his silver Hua strings?

Mu Yan, not yet recovered from his serious injuries, was struggling. His short blade flew back, its edge cutting against the silver threads with a screech, but the threads were only blocked for an instant. With a “swish,” the quick blade that could cut gold and jade broke piece by piece. Mu Yan flipped backward, barely dodging the overlapping silver threads.

Several blood-stained pieces of cloth floated down—Mu Yan’s arm now bore a wound. He reached toward us saying: “Give me the sword.”

While Zhong Lin was still dazed, I immediately threw my Willow Wind to Mu Yan: “Use mine!”

Mu Yan caught Willow Wind as Nie Hanrong’s attack continued without pause, silver threads pressing forward step by step, already shooting forth thread by thread.

Willow Wind was a flexible sword—using softness to counter softness, it temporarily blocked the silver threads’ offensive. Silver light flowed and turned throughout the sky, and between the sword shadows and thread formations, Mu Yan and Nie Hanrong’s forms could no longer be seen.

As the fight grew intense, my palms were sweating. I quickly surveyed the surrounding terrain. This was an empty street with high walls on both sides—one side was Feng Lai Pavilion’s courtyard, the other probably another residence. There were very few pedestrians, but in the distance, one could vaguely see the bustling crowds on the main street.

My mind racing, I took advantage of Mu Yan blocking Nie Hanrong to grab Zhong Lin’s hand and run toward that main street. Once there, with the crowds of people, we could easily slip away by blending in.

After running just a few steps, Zhong Lin suddenly cried “Ah!” and stopped.

Looking back only made my heart ache—my Willow Wind that I had lent to Mu Yan was now broken in two. After the sword broke, Mu Yan immediately became somewhat clumsy, holding the broken half of the sword and barely defending against the relentless silver threads.

Before I could say anything, Mu Yan, while desperately fighting, somehow found time to complain amid the crisis: “Why is your sword so useless!”

If it weren’t for Willow Wind’s ability to cut through iron like mud, wouldn’t an ordinary sword have broken even sooner under those terrifying Hua strings?

My nose nearly twisted with anger: “I lent you my sword out of kindness, and you dare blame me when your inferior skills got it broken?”

Mu Yan was now in an even more desperate state. Not only did he have several new wounds, but his handsome face also bore a cut, blood covering it completely, adding a touch of ferocity.

Nie Hanrong squinted his eyes, speaking while fighting: “Hall Master Mu, you can still turn back now.”

Mu Yan suddenly laughed: “Enough, stop going easy on me. Aren’t you afraid the Pavilion Master will punish you too?”

Nie Hanrong froze, then coldly snorted. He was now fighting while retreating, having backed beyond the archers’ range. The silver threads in his hands made rustling sounds as they suddenly turned, several threads wrapping around Mu Yan’s legs. His palm rose, pulling Mu Yan to the ground as he started to shout: “Sh—”

“Swoosh!”—the sharp sound of an arrow cutting through the air came—not from those archers, but an arrow shot from behind us, piercing through the rain-like silver threads, grazing Nie Hanrong’s cheek before embedding in the wall behind him with a thud, its fletching still trembling slightly.

Several silver threads slowly fell from the air—this arrow that had torn through space had cut Nie Hanrong’s Hua strings.

The sound of hoofbeats approached. At some point, the alley entrance had filled with a squad of well-armed and armored cavalry. Among them, one person wore no armor but instead pure white clothes as brilliant as snow. His long, fair hands held a black bow, making his skin appear even more jade-like.

He lightly brushed the hair ribbon that had fallen on his shoulder, smiling elegantly: “What’s this? Someone dares to cause trouble in Jinling City?”

I blurted out in shock: “Xiao Qianqing.”

The person before me was Xiao Qianqing—who should have been in the capital right now. How had he come to Jinling?

Seeing my eyes widen in surprise, he smiled and looked down at me: “You’re quite disheveled this time too.”

Whether intentionally or by coincidence, Xiao Qianqing always appeared when I was at my most disheveled. He had seen me in embarrassing states many times.

I cleared my throat, somewhat unable to maintain face: “It’s not so bad.”

Xiao Qianqing smiled and straightened up. When he turned to Nie Hanrong, his voice grew cold: “I heard from the Jinling Prefecture that the city has been rather unstable these past few days. Now you’re making such a display—are you planning a rebellion?”

As soon as Xiao Qianqing finished speaking, a bearded military officer behind him stepped forward and shouted: “The Regent Prince is present! Who dares to stand before him? Step back immediately!”

Nie Hanrong still held the several cut silver threads in his hand. He smiled lightly, retracting the threads as he stood by the road, waving for the archers to withdraw. Bowing, he said: “We commoners were merely entangled in a private grudge, accidentally disturbing Your Highness’s presence. Please forgive us. However, the grudges of the jianghu are complex and interconnected—if Your Highness wishes to intervene, I’m afraid it will require much thought.”

Xiao Qianqing snorted: “This prince cares nothing for your trivial matters. I merely saw an old friend and wish to take her away.” As he spoke, he ignored Nie Hanrong and bent down to offer me his hand. “Mount up.”

I hurriedly pointed to Mu Yan and Zhong Lin: “These two are my friends—we need to take them along.”

Without even looking at Mu Yan and Zhong Lin, Xiao Qianqing nodded: “Since they’re your friends, they can come too.”

I gave him my hand and was pulled onto the horse, finally breathing a secret sigh of relief—thank goodness Xiao Qianqing had arrived in time.

Xiao Qianqing, with his squad of gleaming-armored soldiers, proudly escorted me, Mu Yan, and Zhong Lin, to the royal family’s villa in Jinling.

We all caught our breath and sat down in the flower hall. I spoke first, asking Mu Yan: “Does the Zhong family massacre have anything to do with Feng Lai Pavilion?”

Mu Yan hadn’t had time to bandage his wounds and was leaning palely against the table. Hearing this, he glanced at Zhong Lin before saying: “It does, but it wasn’t ordered by the Pavilion Master—it was done by the faction that opposes him.”

After a brief thought, I was surprised: “Could these people be trying to use this to start a rebellion within Feng Lai Pavilion, to seize power from the Pavilion Master?”

Mu Yan nodded, looking at both me and Zhong Lin: “The one who imprisoned you must have been the Pavilion Master. The dungeon’s exit is in the Pavilion Master’s courtyard—it’s usually abandoned. I didn’t know when the Pavilion Master had put you there.”

“I can guess the intention…” I mused. “These past few days, the person guarding us took extra care of us. I think your Pavilion Master might have been protecting me and Zhong Lin.”

Mu Yan frowned: “Now we roughly know which people did it. If it was them, they would probably want to silence you and Little Lin. Before confronting them openly, hiding you in the dungeon was indeed a prudent method.”

Zhong Lin, who had been silent beside us, suddenly said: “Li Xiyan… I saw him that night with my own eyes.”

This girl—if she hadn’t been at odds with Mu Yan, she could have revealed the murderer’s identity earlier, and there wouldn’t have been so many complications.

Mu Yan was silent for a moment before speaking: “Indeed, it was him. He was among the earliest to join the Feng Lai Pavilion when Feng Yuanjiang was still the Pavilion Master. Back then, they did all kinds of business and killed all kinds of people—there were hardly any rules. Later, when our current Pavilion Master took over, many rules were established. But Li Xiyan still secretly handled some dirty business and was severely reprimanded by the Pavilion Master. Who would have thought he still wouldn’t repent, and now even wants to rebel.”

He paused: “Actually, your escape came at a somewhat bad time. This afternoon, the Pavilion Master had arranged for the leaders of various major sects to come to Feng Lai Pavilion—firstly to thoroughly investigate the Zhong family massacre, secondly to prove Feng Lai Pavilion’s innocence, and then to capture the rebel disciples in one fell swoop.”

Hearing this, my eyes lit up: “So there’s a show to watch today! Let’s go back now, disguise ourselves, and slip in. Zhong Lin can expose Li Xiyan as the real murderer on the spot—let’s see how that bastard gets dealt with.”

Mu Yan nodded: “I need to return too. I’m currently the public suspect—when the sect leaders are all present if I’m not there, it will be difficult for the Pavilion Master to explain.”

Just then, I heard a light laugh beside me—it was Xiao Qianqing, who had been sitting and listening to our conversation.

I raised an eyebrow: “What’s so funny?”

He laughed softly and shook his head: “Looking at you like this… you seem to enjoy stirring up trouble.”

I cleared my throat: “Why did you suddenly come to Jinling? What business do you have here?”

Xiao Qianqing lifted the corner of his mouth, tilting his head slightly as he smiled: “What? Do I need to have a business to come?” He paused, the light smile still gentle on his lips. “Can’t I come to see you?”

The light in those phoenix eyes was too dazzling—I was momentarily stunned, and could only smile without responding.

Xiao Qianqing continued to smile faintly at me without speaking, and the room fell silent.

Mu Yan needed to bandage his wounds, and Zhong Lin followed him.

It was just past the hour of Si, still early, and suddenly only Xiao Qianqing and I remained in the flower hall.

After a moment of silence, Xiao Qianqing called for a servant to bring wine.

Remembering the warm Bamboo Leaf Green wine from the secret chamber, I smiled: “Bring some Bamboo Leaf Green.”

Xiao Qianqing said nothing, waving for the servant to go.

The wine was quickly warmed and served—premium Jinzhou Bamboo Leaf Green poured into an imperial kiln celadon cup, giving off a golden sheen.

Xiao Qianqing stroked the rim of his cup and quietly spoke: “This time I came to find you, I do have some business—the mausoleum is almost complete.”

I froze for a moment. The mausoleum Xiao Qianqing spoke of was the imperial tomb under construction.

Due to the emperor’s sudden death, the grand mausoleum wasn’t yet complete, so the imperial coffin remained in the Fengxian Hall, waiting for burial after the tomb’s completion.

“When the time comes to bestow the posthumous title and conduct the memorial ceremony, you’ll need to be present.” Xiao Qianqing’s voice was flat.

I lowered my head without speaking, looking at the wine cup before me. I didn’t know when it had started, but I only drank Bamboo Leaf Green now.

The finest Jinzhou Bamboo Leaf Green was golden yellow, Hebei’s was pale green, and the home-brewed southern variety was light blue-green. Cup after cup swirled in my wine vessel, sliding cool down my throat—all Bamboo Leaf Green.

“Still thinking of him?” Xiao Qianqing’s lips held a faint smile as he spoke casually, “He’s been dead for half a year now—it’s time to forget.”

My fingers gradually tightened around the wine cup. I stood up with a smile: “When the mausoleum is complete, I’ll return. Even though I’m lazy, I won’t be negligent about such matters.” Placing the cup on the table, I smiled again. “I’m tired too—I’ll go rest for a while.”

With that, I turned and walked out of the flower hall, and down the steps. Outside the door was the bright early summer noon sun. I looked down at the intricate shadows cast by the lush purple jasmine branches in the flower bed onto the blue bricks.

The sunlight on my body provided scorching warmth—summer in the South had arrived.

Raising my hand, there was a long red mark on my palm from gripping the wine cup earlier. It didn’t hurt much, but it cut across the center of my palm’s lines, particularly eye-catching.

What was I thinking about? That person had been gone for five months and seventeen days.

I pulled out the broken Willow Wind that I had retrieved from my sleeve, running my fingers over the clean break. The sword was now broken in the middle, the seven characters “What hatred yearly gifts partings” now scattered across the two broken blades.

In the afternoon, our group of four disguised ourselves and mixed with the bustling crowd heading to Feng Lai Pavilion.

Just as we neared Feng Lai Pavilion, we saw many solemn-faced martial arts heroes along the way.

Jianghu figures swarmed in as Feng Lai Pavilion opened its main gates, setting up tables and chairs with tea in the spacious front courtyard to receive guests.

The Shaolin and Wudang sect leaders—Master Xuezhen and Daoist Qiusheng—were present today, and various heroes had settled in the front courtyard. The four of us squeezed through the crowd and found seats in a corner of the yard.

I scanned the area and saw that in front of the Vermilion Bird Tower in the center of the front courtyard, facing the seats of Master Xuezhen and Daoist Qiusheng, was a row of wooden tables and chairs. Nie Hanrong, the white-clad woman I had seen by the Pavilion Master’s side, and several others who appeared to be pavilion leaders sat there. Only the first seat—the Pavilion Master’s—and the third seat—Mu Yan’s—remained empty.

Feng Lai Pavilion was divided into seven halls according to the Seven Southern Mansions: Jingmu, Guijin, Liutu, Zhenshui, Yihuo, Xingri, and Zhangyue. Jingmu, Guijin, Liutu, Zhenshui, and Yihuo halls were established in various locations, each led by a hall master to consolidate Feng Lai Pavilion’s expanding influence. The Xingri and Zhangyue halls, however, were located in the Jinling headquarters, assisting the Pavilion Master in handling various affairs. These two hall masters were the Pavilion Master’s trusted right and left hands—Mu Yan was the Xingri Hall Master, and the white-clad woman I often saw by the Pavilion Master’s side was Su Qian, the most trusted Zhangyue Hall Master.

Though clouds had gathered at noon, now a fresh breeze blew them away, gradually brightening the courtyard, yet the Pavilion Master still hadn’t appeared.

I casually asked Mu Yan beside me: “Your Pavilion Master is quite late.”

Mu Yan said: “Our Pavilion Master’s health is poor and rises late in the afternoon.”

Remembering the faint medicinal scent from the carriage and secret passage, I nodded: “I see.”

After a moment’s reflection, I realized I had only heard that the Pavilion Master’s surname was “Bai” but didn’t know his given name, so I smiled and asked: “Mu Yan, what is your Pavilion Master’s full name?”

Mu Yan smiled beside me: “You travel the jianghu yet don’t know our Pavilion Master’s name?” He smiled and answered, “Our Pavilion Master’s name is Chi Fan—’Late bells and drums begin the long night, A lonely sail appears on the sun’s edge.'”

Chi Fan—Bai Chi Fan.

The clamor suddenly died down as everyone’s attention turned forward—the Pavilion Master had emerged.

“Crash!” I stood up, knocking over the table in front of me, teacups and kettles rolling across the ground. Mu Yan asked in surprise: “Young Miss, why did you stand up so suddenly?”

From behind the climbing rose trellis at the courtyard’s turn, a young man slowly walked out. Dressed in green robes, he walked to the front tables and chairs but didn’t sit down, instead slightly bowing his head to acknowledge those present.

His eyes slowly swept across the vast front courtyard, and across the crowd, and our gazes met.

At this moment, the distance between us was vast—almost as if we were separated by an entire world.