"Someone... every day, told him, told, told stories."
At this, she suddenly smiled, so faintly, so softly, like a tiny candle flame swaying gently in the wind-
"Grandpa really, really liked, listening to stories."
She paused, and that smile slowly faded. Lowering her head, she went back to sifting through the pile of rubble, her voice so soft the wind nearly carried it away-
"Later, there, weren't any."
"All, all gone."
She spoke lightly, as though it had nothing to do with her, a child who had never witnessed any of it, merely retelling an old story that had long since ceased to concern her.
Chen Xun sat on that broken stone without moving, his gaze resting quietly on the tiny figure with her head bowed over the rubble. It was deep and distant, like a pool of stagnant water that held too much and had grown too still to ripple.
After a while, Little Girl unearthed another fragment, a small, broken piece of a blue porcelain base.
An exquisitely fine, faint design had been fired onto it-the outline of a spirit herb. Its lines were simple yet vivid, with a certain liveliness in the curves of its leaves. Whoever had painted it all those years ago must have been in a very good mood.
Little Girl turned the porcelain base over and over, studying it for a long time, unwilling to put it down. At last, she pressed it to her chest and looked up at Chen Xun, her eyes shining as she smiled. "...Pretty!"
Just one word, yet she said it with utter conviction and satisfaction, as though she had found some extraordinary treasure.
Looking at her, Chen Xun suddenly gave a gentle smile and nodded. "Mm."
"Hehe..."
Little Girl nodded vigorously in agreement, then carefully tucked the