"Pei Ye... Pei Ye," Sun Qingyi stared at the young man before him, still dazzled by the brilliant fire of the recent swordplay, finding the face rather unfamiliar.
"It's me," Pei Ye extended his arm to support him, "I just got back to the theater and heard about this, so I came over—How are you feeling?"
Sun Qingyi looked at him, as if trying to smile yet also seeming like he wanted to cry, choking with emotion, "I'm... I'm doing fine... "
"If you're fine then—Sun Qingyi!"
The old man's body swayed, suddenly tilting and falling to the side.
His sword clattered to the ground and, as the weight lifted, his entire being seemed to lose its strength; his eyes closed, and he fainted then and there.
