Spring was bright and beautiful, and all things were growing.
Even the weathered old trees were covered in fresh green shoots. Under the warm, radiant sunlight, their aged trunks and tender new growth formed such a harmonious sight.
At that moment, two figures—one old and one young—slowly approached.
The old man was actually still in his prime, with a straight, sturdy bearing. Only his hair was completely white, and his beard was speckled with white as well. His eyes were bright and gentle, like a sunny day that appeared after years of braving wind and frost. Not a trace of ferocity could be seen, save for the barely perceptible longing and anticipation deep in his eyes.
The younger one was no more than five or six years old. Holding the old man's hand, he hopped and skipped through the green grass, intensely curious about every flower, blade of grass, and stone around him.
"Grandpa, walk faster! I want to catch that butterfly!"
The little fellow simply broke free of the old man's hand and stumbled after a butterfly, running forward. Several women followed far behind, their faces filled with reverence and caution.
The old man waved his hand, and only then did the women hurry after him.
"Hehe, I used to look forward to this day morning and night, yet I truly never expected it to come so quickly. Twenty years really passed in the flick of a finger. I wonder whether I'll still get to eat that piece of ice-cold watermelon back home."
The old man muttered wistfully to himself, then sat down on a stone stool beside the road. His rather aged face unexpectedly revealed a hint of mischief.
In the end, however, it all turned into deep reluctance to part. His gaze swept over every plant and