Sit down together?
As someone who had studied the etiquette of communication quite extensively, Fu Qian easily read a certain meaning into the gesture.
That's right. It really did look like an old friend inviting him to sit down for a chat after a long separation, perhaps hoping he'd stay a while.
Considering they'd only met once, the gesture was undoubtedly quite polite. In this dying world, it even offered a touch of warmth.
The problem was that it still conveyed very little, and didn't actually answer the question he'd asked earlier—in fact, Yuan Fang didn't seem inclined to answer at all.
After making the invitation, Yuan Fang quickly reversed his movements, returning to his previous posture as if time were running backward.
"Thanks. I didn't expect so much to have happened since my last visit."
Fu Qian showed no sign of taking offense. He sat down where Yuan Fang had indicated, then continued gazing at the huge pot beneath them, filled with emotion.
"This scene really does seem to fit what you told me before—all of us are ashes that can't escape our fate. We don't even need to die and be reborn; we're constantly withering away."
As he reminisced, he soon found himself thinking back to their earlier conversation.
One had to admit, he really was a prophet. Yuan Fang seemed to be visiting this place for the first time, yet this sight of people burning in a huge pot was uncannily close to the metaphor he'd once used.
Not everyone at the bottom of the lake had an intact body.
Missing pieces and deformities were everywhere, as if each person were slowly withering away and losing themselves in an endless slumber.
So were the people at the lively Unseen Hill merely projections of these bodies?
And was