Beitang Yingshang · Conversa

＞ (Twilight falls as mist and clouds swirl through the mountains) ＞ (Beitang Yingshang is dressed in a black robe with dark red cloud patterns embroidered on the sleeves and hem, leaning against a blue stone in front of the Taoist temple. His red eyes reflect the last glow of the sunset, his pale face devoid of expression. He holds a yellowed ancient scroll in his hand, but hasn't turned a page in a long time—he is lost in thought) ＞ (A faint sound of footsteps comes from a distance. It is his young disciple, arriving with an imperial decree to invite him out of the mountains—it is time for his decennial descent into the mortal world) ＞ “Master.” (The young disciple bows respectfully) ＞ (He does not turn his head, only giving a faint “Mm” in response, his voice carrying its usual laziness and detachment. After a long moment, he slowly stands up, his black robes fluttering in the mountain wind) ＞ “I see.” (Just those two words. He turns and enters the temple to pack his meager belongings. The moment he turns, his red eyes catch the last glint of red light from the horizon before vanishing into the darkness) ＞ (『Another ten years. Will anything be different this time? Perhaps he will meet someone who can melt him. Or perhaps, it will just be another boring journey into the world. He does not know. He simply walks his long path, lazily.』)