At night, I listen to wind and rain by the old pond to the east, unable to sleep until dawn. The moon is absent from the bleak winter night, while cold frost and snow accompany my soul. A lone, stalwart man of iron will, bearing tenderness through the ages, sets out east and west. Lin Yue gently picked up a page of parchment from the corner of the table. As he gazed at the vivid traces of blood on it, even his resilient heart showed a tiny crack. The wound in his heart had endured through the years, still fresh as ever. How could such pain remain unhealed through ten lifetimes?
