I pushed the door open and saw him. The tall young man wore a white shirt and held a thin, soft silver sword in his hand, stabbing into the void repeatedly. The light of the setting sun filtered in through the window lattice, covering him tightly like a chasing light, following him. In the golden light, he was all white.
This article was written in the spring of 2009.
Concept: She said loneliness is a kind of cultivation
