After a single sentence, all the colors dissipated, and all the images turned into smoke and dust, carried away by the wind.
The Little Taoist was no more, leaving only a Taoist with tears streaming down his face, reaching out a hand, trying to grasp it all.
Tears streaked the Taoist's face as he looked at Wen Yan, his eyes filled with pleading.
"I beg you, can I, just one more glance, just one..."
Wen Yan remained silent, so the Taoist continued.
"Don't you want my answer? I can give it to you now. The person I miss has nothing to do with you. That statue, it's not her, it's definitely not her. Can I take one more look?"
The Taoist hadn't finished speaking when the light here, as if nearly exhausted, dimmed.
In the dim world, filled with Death Qi and an eerie coldness, even if there were still colors, they seemed to be fading away.
The Taoist, having removed his Taoist robe, sat before a sickbed. Outside the window, lightning flashed like a torrential rain.
