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墨書 Inktalez
In the morning, the sun had just begun to peek out, ready to scorch the earth. However, a gathering of dark clouds appeared, slowly enveloping the old city, as if the entire sky were about to collapse, making it hard for pedestrians to breathe. The streets were bustling with traffic, and the hurried footsteps of passersby resembled a flowing river.
Various shouts of vendors and the clamor of the crowd attempted to break through the thick layers of clouds, seeking a freer space.
The clouds piled up, rolling over and over, yet it refused to rain. This suited our group just fine after wandering around Changsha.
Perhaps due to the weather, we weren’t in the most spirited mood.
The sky was gloomy as we returned to Fat Ma's lair, where all the mist seemed to avoid our sight, leaving us feeling uneasy.
Fat Ma personally cooked up some food for us.
As night fell, it signaled the end of one day and the imminent arrival of another.
Time repeated itself in such a manner that finally, on the third day, the long-accumulated clouds could no longer hold back their release. A torrential downpour descended like an apocalyptic event, pouring down without restraint.
The once-bustling streets were now deserted; solitude reigned. The rain continued for several days during which we stayed inside Fat Ma's shop, rarely venturing out.
I stood at the threshold, looking outside as raindrops fell one by one from the eaves. A sudden chill swept through as a gust of cold wind blew by, instinctively causing me to step back inside.
On this day, the rain ceased. Behind the clouds, the sun released its gentle rays.
"I want to go back and see Master," the Mud Man suddenly said. His words reminded me of my grandfather, so we bid farewell to Fat Ma.
Fat Ma insisted on not letting us leave, and after much persuasion, he treated us to another meal. As we were about to depart, I asked, "What about your little issue?"
"Don't worry, Old Sun. If I can't handle those old buddies, then Fat Master has no business being out here," he replied confidently.
Seeing Fat Ma so assured, the Mud Man and I boarded the train leaving Changsha.
Two days later, I returned to the city where I was born and raised.
The familiar courtyard came into view. It had been nearly a month since I last left, but the feeling of home never changed.
The red clouds were painting the horizon as a few wild geese flew by with soft calls. I collected my emotions, pushed open the courtyard door, and called for my grandfather.
My grandfather emerged from the house, leaning on a cane, calling out, "Is that Liangzi?"
"It's me," I replied loudly.
As the night fell, the dim yellow light under the eaves illuminated my grandfather's face, which seemed to have gained a few more wrinkles. I supported him as we entered the house.
My grandfather smiled happily. After sitting down, he asked if I had eaten dinner yet.
I candidly replied that I hadn't because there was no need for formality at home.
I helped my grandfather prepare dinner, and the two of us enjoyed a drink while I shared my experiences from outside. In the past, it was my grandfather who told me stories, and now I was trying to share my tales with him.
Such is the passage of time!
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