The platform fell silent for a moment.
The scholar shifted his gaze from the lake's surface, turned around, and raised his hand in a polite bow, but it seemed he wasn't really looking at the two men, only gently saying, "National University, Fang Jidao."
...
Overwhelmed by alcohol, the scholar sipped his wine slowly over a long period. The cold threads of rain did indeed begin to drift down from the sky, and Pei Ye thought this must surely be the last rain of the year.
On the Green Blossom Terrace, people gradually disappeared. Pei Ye and Fang Jidao sat side by side with legs dangling, right above the surface of West Pond. They chatted idly, from their days at the Heavenly Principle Academy to Shengjing, from the Bowang Martial Competition to that day at the Lu-viewing Platform. As the conversation dragged on, the topics would inevitably drift back to ideals and life.
