An autumn breeze blew gently. A merchant ship sailed downstream along the Clear River, its sails billowing.
Several muffled, slightly hoarse coughs came from a cabin on the second floor:
"Cough... cough, cough..."
The deck was crowded with travelers from every corner of the land, but there were few guests on the second floor. A Young Master in Green, with a three-foot saber in a brocade sheath at his waist, pushed open the door, carrying a tray.
Creak-
A rather tall elderly man sat beside the tea table by the window. He wore a brocade robe and jade belt, with a loose cloak draped over him. The light in his eyes was restrained, like a solitary eagle that had weathered all the vicissitudes of life.
"Master, the medicine is almost cold. Have a sip. Even if it can't cure you, it can ease the pain."
The Young Master in Green set down the tray, lifted the medicine bowl from it, and placed it beside the old man's hand, his brow heavy with worry.
But the old man remained quite indifferent. He pushed the bowl away with a finger.
"This medicine eases pain but clouds the mind. Once you become addicted, there's no pulling yourself free. I can't touch it. Your martial uncle had found a lead on some Snow Lake Flower, which might have helped. Who would have thought that after a lifetime of smooth sailing, he would end up a corpse in the wilderness in his old age because of his elder brother..."
The Young Master in Green sat down beside him and urged:
"The dead are like extinguished lamps. Please restrain your grief, Master. We went to the Western Sea Tribes thinking we could find some Snow Lake Flower, but all Four Great Tribes together couldn't produce a