Evening of March 2nd
"Big brother, what's wrong?" The little boy stared anxiously at Tang Luo who was lying in bed, groaning in discomfort.
"My good little brother..." Tang Luo replied, his face deathly pale.
"I've come down with an illness that prevents me from leaving this bed. Could you bring me some food?"
"Sure, big brother! Hang in there!" The little boy instantly dashed off, not even stopping to apply any medicine.
Tang Luo stared blankly at the ceiling beams, a stack of martial arts techniques and secrets piled next to his hand.
It's cool to be pompous for a moment, but the consequences are hard to bear.
On the bed, the boy was mired in thoughts about the universe, nature, human desires, and a rising regret started gnawing at his heart.
Would it make any difference being early or late for elderhood?
How did the efforts of others in the Secret Arts Pavilion matter to him?
