[The author is hopeless at writing blurbs... = =]
Snow drifts down, the notes of the ancient modes ring out,
The Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute fade into the distance.
One song is sung, and the heavens laugh,
Even the finest days and loveliest scenery seem made for nothing.
Dressed all in white, he sat in the pavilion by the spring and smiled. "Xiaobai, would you be willing to accompany me on this journey once more?"
The peach blossoms bloomed around him in a dazzling instant, then drifted down to the earth, turning to mud that nourished more flowers.
She was captivated by that fleeting, breathtaking moment, and gave a slight nod. And so, years later, even when she wished she could take it back, it was already too late.
Well~ why is there only one more chapter? Still in sequence. . . Depressed. . .