Looking at the young master, I seem to have returned to his childhood. At that time, the old owner and his wife died at the hands of others because they were guarding the White Deer Knife. He was under sixteen years old. The moon was full in the sky, bright and clear. The young master leaned against a tall banyan tree and asked: "Uncle Ning, what color is the moon?"
I replied: "Young Master... I think it's probably yellow or silver."
He smiled lowly: "But why is the moon I see black?"
It's never easy to guess a young man's thoughts, and I have never seen such a confused look on his face since then.
Conception: