Song Ciwan pointed to the scholar ahead, who was flourishing his fountain pen, and said, "Brother Ye, please look."
What was there to see?
Song Ciwan didn't say more. Her hand was already pointing forward, and what she left unsaid needed no explanation.
Everything in the world holds a different meaning depending on who is looking.
Take the moonlight, for example. A poet looks up and sees longing and distant lands. A merchant looks up and sees copper coins and gold ingots. A beggar looks up and says the sky is clear, a good night to go to a kind family on the east side of the city and beg for half a mooncake…
What would Ye Sheng see?
Ye Sheng looked ahead and saw the Scholar chanting, "Magnificent gray-horned eagle, your killing intent pierces the autumn sky!"
Golden characters flew out one by one, transforming into eagles with gray-crested heads and outstretched iron wings.
Boundless killing intent burst from their unfurled wings as the eagles' cries rang out—SCREE! SCREE!
