The Ying Surname

Old Blind Man's eyes were clear. A trace of serenity and peace showed on his face, while the breath of life had completely vanished.

The painting beneath his brush basked in the lingering glow of the setting sun, just as when they had first met beyond the alley years ago. An old blind man silently painted outside the alley, taking occasional sips of cloudy aged wine that seeped deep into the heart and spleen.

The evening breeze outside was soft and gentle, lightly stirring the scroll as though it had carried tidings of good news.

The warmth in Chen Xun's smile deepened as his gaze slowly turned toward the outside. "Sir... the mortal path has been fulfilled, and this life was not lived in vain. I shall accept this painting. Let Chen Xun complete the immortal path that comes after."

He carefully placed Old Blind Man onto a chair, his gaze calm and intent.

Chen Xun picked up a broom and began sweeping the entire house himself, without using any magic power.

Every speck of dust here bore the mark of Old Blind Man's life, carrying the weight of his latter years.

His movements were light and cautious, as though he were offering Old Blind Man one final farewell.

Chen Xun was neither impatient nor sorrowful. He simply focused on restoring the house to a state of quiet cleanliness. Every movement was filled with reverence for life and respect for the passing years.

Gradually, the house regained its fresh atmosphere. Dust was gently swept away, and sunlight streamed through the windows onto the floor, casting bright patches of light and shadow.

A faint fragrance of wood wafted from every wall, as though the Old Blind Man of memory still existed within this space.

Chen Xun stood quietly in the center