"Sir." A small child, wearing a grey outfit, dashed out from the horse carriage, holding a big gown. He remarked deeply, "Sir, stop waiting. It won't come. The snow is too heavy, Liu Huzi said that there would be a big snowstorm later on. We should hurry in our tracks and reach Que Yu Mountain before dark."
Wu Daoya was unfazed, as if he had not heard anything. His eyes remained fixed towards the front, an expressionless look on his face.
"Sir?" The child, dazed, tugged at Wu Daoya's sleeve. "Sir?"
"Ming'er, listen." The man wearing a green robe suddenly opened his mouth. He sounded a little hoarse and his voice appeared deeper under the whistling winds. He spoke slowly, with the grace of the autumn winds.
"Listen?" The child frowned, his ears sticking out. "Sir, what I am to listen to?"
"The sound of horses' hooves." Wu Daoya remarked, "It's here."
