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The two of them conversed for who knows how long before finally parting in satisfaction.
“My father spent his whole life telling stories. Those tales of fantasy and the supernatural, and the strange wonders of the world, he told them so many times, yet had only seen a handful for himself.”
Old Mr. Zhang sighed with some regret, “As storytellers, the more we talk, the more we wonder if the stories are true. We long to meet the characters we speak of, to visit the places we describe. But few of us ever get the chance. If my father were still alive and standing here today, able to have such a conversation with you, sir, I imagine he would be deeply comforted.”
“I was indeed gone for far too long,” Song You said softly.
“Indeed…”
Old Mr. Zhang thought about himself. He didn’t know how many years he had left, and looking at the man before him, he couldn’t help but sigh, “How many people can truly live as long as the immortals?”
Song You only shook his head, saying nothing. Then he raised a hand and gave Old Mr. Zhang a respectful bow. “Mr. Zhang…”
Old Mr. Zhang immediately understood and returned the salute with equal courtesy. “Take care on your journey, sir…”
“Mr. Zhang, your skill and presence are not inferior to your father’s,” Song You said sincerely. “I only hope that seven years from now, when...
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