The autumn breeze made the yellowish fallen leaves swirl in the courtyard. Li Qingshan averted his eyes from the rolling leaves and looked at the palace walls at a distance. As he squinted, he took out a white handkerchief to cover his mouth and made several slight coughs. Then he folded the handkerchief carefully and put it into his sleeve.
As the Nation Master of the Tang Empire, he was highly privileged but known for his banter. With the increase of wrinkles, however, he was obviously older and more silent.
Thinking about the old people who died this year, a trace of worry emerged in his eyes. Although such matters as birth, death, illness and old age were all natural matters, he could not help sighing for the death of so many old friends in such a short time. As the abbey dean of the South School of Haotian Taoism, he worriedly pondered whether this represented Heaven's will.
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