Pei Zhan stopped only when he reached outside the main hall.
The air smelled of incense candles, and a young monk keeping watch nearby gave a small cough.
Although the lights under the corridor were not bright, they were much brighter than the ruins above.
He sat on the steps, and a little monk under the corner of the door bent over to ask if there were any instructions. He waved his hand and silently observed his shadow on the ground.
Lonely.
Like in childhood, many years ago.
His mother gave birth to him prematurely. Initially, the elderly in the family said he wouldn't survive, and his mother cried day and night. His father, afraid she would cry herself sick, hired three wet nurses to look after him.
The family acted with grave seriousness, and the wet nurses dared not be careless. His elder brother said he hadn't walked on his own until he was three. Even as his brother, wanting to see him was not as simple as just meeting.
