"Where do you live?" she asked.

  "Just nearby, only a few steps away."

  "Then let me take you back. Anyway, I have nothing to do."

  "No!" He quickly replied, almost angrily. "I can walk by myself. I'm as familiar with this pce as I am with my own fingers! And I don't want to go back yet! I have to go meet my daughter."

  "Daughter!" Fang Siying paused for a moment, her gaze fixed on the man before her.

  "You have a daughter? How old is she? Where is she? You're going to meet her?"

  The man's eyebrows quickly furrowed together. "What does that have to do with you?" he said bluntly. "You sure like to meddle in other people's business!"

  Fang Siying's face immediately flushed with embarrassment. She turned her gaze to the horizon, where the sun had already set, leaving a faint rosy hue across the mountaintops.

  "I was just asking," she said softly. "I told you, I don't have any friends here, so I..." She didn't finish her sentence, but the man seemed to understand her loneliness. His furrowed brows rexed, and a near-gentle expression appeared on his face, softening the rigidity of his features and making him look kind and benevolent.

  "I'm sorry," he hurriedly said. "I have a bad temper."

  To make up for his earlier rudeness, he then answered her question.

  "My daughter is ten years old. She studies at the local elementary school. She usually walks home by herself, but since I′m out today, I might as well go pick her up."

  "I'll take you there, okay?" Fang Siying said eagerly. "I'm fine, really, not a problem at all."

  "If you're happy with that," the man said, his tone indifferent, not very warm.Fang Siying gnced at him, knowing he must think he had encountered the most boring person, someone with nothing to do but meddle in other people's business!

  But she didn′t care about his opinion. Looking at him, she said:

  "Be careful, there′s a pile of stones in front of you; you'd better walk around this side!"

  She helped him a little.

  "Let me help you walk, okay?"

  "No need!" he said loudly.

  Fang Siying stopped talking. They navigated around the pile of ruins. Once they entered the garden, with no more stumbling wooden pnks or stones, the man's steps became quicker. Fang Siying noticed that he was indeed very familiar with this pce, and it was at that moment that she realized something she had overlooked earlier. In the middle of the garden, there was a concrete path that was not overrun with weeds, clearly because it was regurly used.

  So, he really did come to these ruins often? What would a blind man come to a pile of ruins for? To mourn the past? Or to search for it? She couldn't help but quietly and deeply study the man's profile next to her. Now, the man was focused on walking, seemingly having forgotten her presence. His face was mencholic, indifferent, serious, and inscrutable.

  Along the main road, they hadn't walked far when Fang Siying saw a luxurious garden vil by the roadside. Two rge red gates, a tall wall, and banyan trees trimmed to look like little pavilions peeked out from the top of the wall. Inside the wall was a two-story building, its outer walls adorned with elegant floral tiles, beautiful wall mps, and unique round windows. On the red gates of the wall hung a pque with a bck background and golden letters: "Bai Residence."

  Fang Siying gnced again at the man beside her.

  "Is this big house by the roadside your home, Mr. Bai?" she asked.

  The man jumped slightly. "How did you know my st name is Bai?" he asked quickly.

  "It′s simple. You said your home is nearby, and this is the only distinguished building in the area. Based on your clothing, you must be the owner of a distinguished residence. And the pque on the front gate of this house says 'Bai Residence.'"

  "Mm," the man rexed the muscles in his face. "You have quite an imaginative mind. What do you do? A writer?"

  "I don′t have that talent, but I do have an interest in writing," she said, staring at him. "I studied education in the U.S. and worked as a primary school teacher for five years."

  "You could switch careers and learn to write. You seem to be looking for a story! You visit a ruin, you find a blind man, and you hope to find a story in him to write something like Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, or Butterfly Dream," he said coldly, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hmph!"

  Fang Siying couldn't help but let out a hum of her own. "You′re wrong, Mr. Bai. I'm not interested in your story."

  "Is that so?" Fang Siying stopped talking, and they continued walking in silence for quite a distance. Then, Fang Siying saw the elementary school. Groups of children were spilling out of the school gate in threes and fours.

  The school was located at the top of a small town, and the sign at the entrance read: "Zhengxin National Primary School."

  It was clear they had arrived te; the children had already finished school. Most of them were running toward the town center, though one or two were heading in their direction. They stopped, and Fang Siying watched the children carefully. They were wearing white shirts and blue shorts or skirts, chattering like a group of little birds, chasing, pying, and roughhousing... What a lively and joyful bunch!

  "They've already finished school," the blind man said.

  "Yes," Fang Siying′s breath quickened, eager to see what kind of child this man′s daughter was. "Your daughter might have already gone home."

  "Maybe," the man replied, not seeming very concerned.

  "Is she tall? Short? Pretty?" Fang Siying eagerly and anxiously searched through the children. "What does she look like?"

  "I wish someone would tell me what she looks like," the man muttered.

  "Ah!" Fang Siying looked at him in astonishment. "You don′t even know... ah!" A wave of pity and sorrow rose in her chest. Yes, he was blind! He didn′t know what his own daughter looked like! But... had he been blind for many years?

  "I need to go back. She must have already gotten home," the man turned and said.

  "Oh, wait!" Fang Siying called out because she had spotted a little girl at the school gate, walking out alone. The girl was a small, thin, pale, and fragile little thing, with long braids and an expression of precocious loneliness on her face. Is this the child? Her heart raced, and she trusted her judgment—this was the child! Certainly! The child looked so much like her father; she'd never seen such a striking resembnce! Thick eyebrows, big eyes, a straight nose—even the mencholic expression was a replica of her father's.

  "I see your child!" she gasped. "She′s truly a beautiful child!"

  "How can you be sure..." The father's words were cut off by the child′s startled shout. The girl had already noticed them. She called out, then ran toward them, panting as she yelled:

  "Daddy! Daddy!" The girl rushed to her father′s side, grabbing his hand—the one that wasn't holding a cane—tightly with both of her little hands. Her eyes were rge and bright, filled with a kind of ecstatic, surprised joy as she looked up at her father. Her pale little face had now flushed with the color of happiness and excitement. Her breath came quickly and in short bursts.