A day passed quickly. Darkness fell and the moonlight was like water. All was silent.
A figure flashed out from a residence and began to roam the Ancient Academy.
This person was, of course, Tu Xiao'an. The strange lake was on his mind, and he wanted to investigate it.
In the dim surroundings, he walked toward the lake behind the flower garden. It was nearly dawn, and the students were all asleep in their dorms, leaving the campus quiet.
As he reached the lake, the faint, sorrowful sound of a flute drifted strangely from the calm surface, sometimes near, sometimes far. Tu Xiao'an stood before the small lake, the hallowed moonlight bathing him and making his handsome features look exceptionally refined.
The flute's melody was still just as mournful and melancholic, as if recounting the world's most bitter sorrows.
