Liang Wensheng's Fall

Le Wen, a delightful read.

The two stared at each other in silence. After a moment, a glint flashed through the little boy's eyes. As though he had sensed something, he suddenly kowtowed to the middle-aged Daoist and murmured, "Master."

The Heavenly Sword Sect's master could not help but laugh. He set down his umbrella in the snow and lifted the little boy into his arms.

The snow fell ever more heavily, drifting down without a sound. On a night when the lanterns had just begun to glow, no one knew which household in that shabby alley was the little boy's home.

Snowflakes settled upon the Heavenly Sword Sect master's black hair, dampening his temples and brows, making him seem white-haired and ancient. The little boy suddenly raised a hand and gently brushed the frost and snow from the middle-aged man's hair. At that moment, his eyes shone brightly. The Heavenly Sword Sect master did not mind the boy's filthy hand, merely smiling faintly.

The story of that shabby alley soon vanished around the next corner. Only the paper umbrella, stirred by the wind in the snow, softly recounted the past as the silent snowfall gradually buried their footprints.

Firecrackers crackled and burst, scattering into the wind of the new year and becoming auspicious tidings for the year to come.

Year after year, again and again, just as before... In the blink of an eye, how many more years had passed?

Memories came rushing over him. Yet several hundred years of time had vanished, while the voices and faces of yesterday still seemed as though they had been there only yesterday.

A smile gradually appeared on Liang Wensheng's aged face. Ever since he had unexpectedly encountered the Heavenly Sword Sect's master in the city, he could be said to have