On the long street above the lake embankment, a voice called Zhou Zhongqiu away.
The person who had called arrived in a blue-curtained carriage. When the wind blew the curtain aside, it revealed half a face filled with authority. The crowd of scholars stood to attention, lowered their gazes, and bowed from a distance, saying respectfully, "Greetings, Prefect."
A voice drifted on the wind, "There is no need for such formality."
Then, with a rumble of wheels, the carriage moved on. The voice faded into the distance, and Zhou Zhongqiu went with it.
Seeing this, the remaining scholars couldn't help but lament, "Brother Zhou is usually so approachable, he seems no different from us. But the truth is, if we weren't classmates, how could we ever befriend someone of his standing?
Right now, it seems we know him well, but in less than ten years, we'll surely be living in two different worlds."
