Feibai and Qianxu's first encounter was utterly unremarkable. One looked up, the other looked down. There was no buildup or embellishment, just like a bridge lying across a narrow canal, nothing more than a pile of stones stacked together. But sometimes fate really is that simple, nowhere near as complicated as philosophers imagine. Years later, Feibai said just that to his disciples as they left Rudaoyu to roam the jianghu.
I think this is the novel that flowed most smoothly when I wrote it, and the one I felt most immersed in. It's also one of the few short stories I've actually finished... I kept thinking about writing an extra chapter, but never got around to it. I've decided now: the extra chapter will be published together with the main story.
