Five years later.
The morning sun broke through layers of mountain fog, sprinkling down through gaps in the treetops and leaves, casting light fragments of pale gold across the ground.
The Li Family had farmed by the banks of Wangyue Lake for another five years, and it had been sixteen or seventeen years since Mirror was found. The stone paths on Lijing Mountain were gradually turning green, birds were chirping in the branches, presenting a scene of renewal.
But Xu Old Man sat blankly next to a gravestone covered with green moss, his stooped body echoing the coldness of the tombstone, his withered hand gripping a clod of earth tightly.
"Old man... how come you're not dead yet?"
A few years ago, Xu Old Man went up to Lijing Mountain, saying he would watch over the Li Family's graveyard, and since Li Xiangping and the others couldn't persuade him otherwise, they let him be.
