Xuanling Continent, Southern Region, edge of Qinglan Mountains, Yunxi Village.
The late spring wind carried the last bit of wind, rolling up the white flowers falling on the big locust tree at the entrance of the village, and hitting Yun Yi's thin shoulders. He was wearing a coarse cloth that had been washed white, and a smooth straw rope was tied around his waist, and his half-length black hair was tied back. At this moment, he was kneeling in front of a new tomb. In front of the tomb was a simple wooden sign with the crooked words "Grave of Grandfather Yun Laohan" carved with a fire stick.
It's been three days since my grandfather was buried.
Yun Yi's face looked a little pale in the setting sun, and his eyes, which were usually gentle and smiling, seemed to be covered with a layer of mist that could not be removed at this moment, deep and sad. He stretched out his hand and gently brushed away the dust on the wooden sign. His fingertips touched the rough wood, and a cold feeling spread along his fingertips to the bottom of his heart, making him shiver.
"Grandpa," he murmured in a low voice, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper, "it's windy today, you're down there... Are you still warm?"
The only answers he received were the whistling wind and the faint barking of dogs from the distant villages.
