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“This place… where is this?”
“This is my dream, of course.”
“Who are you? Where did you come from?”
The always composed, dignified, and long-renowned Duke of Thunder Zhou could not help but lose his composure. He was flustered and shaken.
But the Daoist remained calm, facing him as he said, “Haven’t you long since known? My surname is Song, given name You, current heir to Hidden Dragon Temple. My master gave me the style name Menglai.”
“Menglai…” Locking eyes with him, Duke of Thunder Zhou fell silent.
In that silence, he turned his head left and right, looking at this world. Several times he seemed on the verge of speaking, then stopped, until finally he asked, “Why, all along the way, have I never seen anyone displaced and homeless?”
“Such people are already rare.”
“But they still exist?”
“Of course. Very few, very, very few, so few that they are hardly seen anymore.” Song You stood by the roadside, answering Duke of Thunder’s questions. “And in the future, such people will never disappear completely.”
“Why?”
“Because some are displaced not because they lack the ability to clothe and feed themselves, nor because society prevents them from doing so.” The Daoist smiled faintly. “Even if they could easily live in comfort, they would still choose to wander. Tell me, Duke of Thunder, do you believe this?”
“…”
Duke of Thunder Zhou gave no answer. He only looked around again, then asked once more, “Why have I also never seen anyone in rags or starving for lack of food...
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