"Director." Chen Mo bowed and set the dossier on the edge of the desk.
The old man didn't open his eyes. He gave a quiet "Mm," then reached out with his thin, bony hand and slowly took the dossier.
Chen Mo waited a moment. Seeing there were no further instructions, he bowed and withdrew.
The door closed, and silence returned to the room.
Only then did the old man open his eyes. He flipped open the dossier and read it page by page, for a long time.
When he finished, he set the dossier back on the desk, picked up his now-cold teacup, and took a sip.
"The Burial Sword Mound... Peace Under Heaven..." the old man murmured, then set down the cup. "That really does match what I saw back then."
After a pause, he added, "But isn't he arriving a little early?"
Confusion lingered on his face for an instant before he quickly pushed it away, completely unaware that he might have mistaken who the vision was about.
Never mind, never mind. A few thousand years—some discrepancy is only natural. A few years early or late is normal too.
Outside the window, the branches of the Old Sophora Tree swayed in the wind. A few withered leaves spun down onto the sill.
The old man reached out to brush away the leaves and softly spoke to the empty room. "Those who are meant to see it will see it. As for those who aren't... letting him stay confused for a few more days might be for the best."
He looked toward the sky outside the window. Though he couldn't see anything from this angle, he had clearly spotted something no one else could.
"That mountain in the heavens... It looks like someone raised a flag for him."
With