The mountain is cold and clear, the night as cool as water.
Silvery moonlight spills over the mountain, illuminating the Wang Family Mansion, the babbling brook shatters the moonlight.
Wang Qingyi sits in a wheelchair, draped in thin clothing, gazing towards the White Crane Temple dedicated to Ancestor Master Chongyang, where incense never stops burning year-round, so much so that the fragrant scent permeates every corner of the mansion.
"Brother Qingyi, the mountain is cold at night, it's best to go back."
Wang Qinglian approaches from behind, holding the wheelchair, looking at Wang Qingyi with some heartache.
Once a shining star, now a fallen man; he came here supposedly to recuperate, but truly it's to escape the disputes and indifferent stares within the family.
After all, the zeal with which some people look up to you can turn into scorn with equal fervor when you fall.
In Wang Qinglian's eyes, how could someone as proud as Wang Qingyi tolerate such cold human sentiments?
