Those who came later left many names for that era.
Some called it an age of prosperity; others, a long night. The monuments recorded the Savior's great deeds, while old scrolls concealed another account. As for those who first traveled together, the histories preserved only a few meager lines.
The story begins with snow falling in Linchuan.
After a great fire, a young man heads north with his father's sword. Someone comes into the world from a place too distant to describe, hoping to turn all the possibilities in their memories into reality. And another person is busy buying medicine for his mother, keeping accounts for a friend, and repairing a car that never seems to work quite right.
Back then, they still didn't know how many people had walked the road beneath their feet.
Deep in the mountains, the writing on ancient stone tablets is crumbling away. Over the long years, some names have been recited again and again, while others were never allowed to remain.
Yet new roads have already been trodden, and new lights are beginning to shine, one by one.
Many years later, when people speak of destiny again, they may still mention those few people.
But they may not remember how, at a ferry crossing, they once split two buns, promised to meet again, and agreed that the money owed could be paid back little by little.
