Under the tree, an elderly man with white hair dressed in a kimono was talking to the air, his mouth opening and closing, yet not a sound could be heard.
In front of the elder, a stone shrine weathered by wind and rain was almost indiscernible.
Of course, the shrine was still being worshipped, evidenced by the two porcelain bowls of fresh pastries offered to it.
"Yo—"
The alley was empty; seeing no one paying attention to this side, Xia Yuxing approached and greeted from a distance.
Suddenly, two pairs of barely visible eyes turned towards him, cold and indifferent.
Yet, the indifference dissipated as soon as they realized who it was, replaced by an obvious benevolence.
Should a drunkard open his eyes in the corner at this moment, seeing Xia Yu greet the air and the old tree, he would surely sober up in a cold sweat from the fright.
From Xia Yu's perspective, the elder and the female figure flickering between the trees were very clear.
