The Pavilion Elder fell silent in thought for a moment. His voice was old, almost inaudible as he murmured:
"The flame is too weak—one gust of wind and it's snuffed out..."
So, let it burn slowly, let it burn bit by bit...
Within the ornate, antiquated candlestick, a feeble flame danced—light, lively, and flickering.
The Pavilion Elder let out a slight smile, half with emotion, half with self-mockery:
"I've just lived too damn long..."
"Those older than me are dead, and the younger ones are gone too. I used to think, what's the point in living? Another day, just another day."
"But unexpectedly, there are still quite a few interesting things in this world."
"If you keep living—if you hold out long enough—sooner or later, you'll run into them..."
As he finished, the Pavilion Elder found his weariness had vanished, and for the first time in ages, his interest was piqued.
His once-muddied gaze grew a little brighter as he looked at the chessboard before him.
