Silence.
Yan Song sat back down, and with a light humph said, "Don't listen to that kid's nonsense."
"A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from above. It is intermediate between land and sky."
Yun Ya parted her vermilion lips, and a string of fluent, authentic English emerged, as beautiful as listening to an ancient melody.
Yan Song was startled for a moment.
"A patch of lake water reflects the spirituality of the sky. It constantly receives new life and motion from above, a medium between the earth and the sky."
Yun Ya walked to his side, "Brother Yan, this sentence is taken from Henry David Thoreau's Walden."
Yan Song furrowed his brows.
Yun Ya sat down beside him, took the English book from his hands, and sighed with a smile.
