The ancient Scholar tree had shed all its leaves, leaving it stark and bare, a sight that seemed forlorn.
And beneath the tree, that familiar figure was nowhere to be seen.
Wang Anfeng, with his ancient zither on his back, called out several times but heard not the familiar reply, a sense of unease growing within him. He pursed his lips and finally whispered softly:
"Master, Anfeng has acted impolitely."
He reached out from under his sleeve and slowly pushed open the half-closed wooden door.
With a creak, the thin cool sunlight of winter streamed into the room through the crack in the door, everything inside was familiar, but it notably lacked the presence of the Master in his long robe, smiling warmly.
