"You're not going back for a look? Anything holding you back at home? If there is, let me know straight away, and I can alter the route for you."
Chen Yuan was somewhat surprised. He was right; Gongsun Yang's hometown was on the plateau of North Pass.
A novelist's legacy drifted from that desolate yet melodious land of 'Xintianyou', never to return, which seemed odd.
So he asked.
With his back to him, Gongsun Yang shook his head, "Thank you, Mr. Xie. I have always been alone, wandering around for so long. As the saying goes, 'Flowers bloom again, but people do not stay young.' Many people are likely gone, and returning is only to add more sorrow."
With that, he whipped the horse and continued on.
Inside the carriage, Chen Yuan, hearing Gongsun Yang say this, didn't say more. Everyone has their own story; he could sense that Gongsun Yang didn't want to say more. Let it be, then.
