Across a covered walkway ten paces wide and a dense grove of green bamboo, one end was filled with joy, the other with loneliness. The gentle spring sun filtered through the leaves, scattering golden flecks over their flawless faces. A woman's clear, bell-like laughter mingled with the rustle of bamboo leaves in the breeze, playing a beautiful melody called "love stirring." But it had nothing to do with him. The figure hidden in the corner slowly grew dim. Long fingers clenched inside his sleeve, then loosened, his knuckles pale.
"When my mother was alive, she once took me to the place where she first met my father." The man, dressed in white as pure as snow, with hair black as ink, set down his cup and spoke slowly. "Atop Qiong Mountain, the misty waves stretch far and wide. At sunrise, the blue sea glitters with gold. The view is quite spectacular." A faint smile touched his lips, his gaze gentle and tender. Suddenly, he turned to look at Yao Zhen. "I haven't been back since my mother passed away. Her memorial day is in ten days. Would you come with me?"
"Sure." Yao Zhen agreed without hesitation. He searched her clear, bright eyes carefully, but in that shallow stream, clear to the bottom, there were none of the ripples he longed for. She probably thought of it as an invitation between friends. The figure at the other end had already left when Yao Zhen said "sure," his footsteps crushing the sighs scattered across the ground. In the end... he had missed his chance.
