He felt dejected, saddened, and utterly helpless. Everything went black. When he opened his eyes again, Zheng Fan found himself standing on a bustling street. Lowering his head, he saw a cheeky little thing holding a string of candied hawthorns, grinning at him... What a rebellious son!
Mo Wan seemed to have learned his lesson somewhat. Perhaps their last encounter had merely been a byproduct of the nightmare Zheng Fan experienced due to Tian Wujing's self-annihilation of his clan. This time, however, Mo Wan had crafted this "dreamscape" himself. In any case, the street exuded a vintage atmosphere, not a modern scene. At least it didn't immediately break Zheng Fan's immersion.
The little boy reached out, grabbed Zheng Fan's hand, and pulled him forward. He wanted Zheng Fan to play with him, to stroll through the streets together. His hand was sticky from holding the candied hawthorns.
