653 Zhang Zian's Wife?

The streets bustled with life, a contrast to the abnormal peace within the store.

It was a suitable day for story-telling.

Most stories started out in a dim, empty room, an old man in a rocking chair with a wool blanket draped over his knees. The fireplace behind him crackled and popped.

The rocking chair made him feel as though he was floating amidst the river of time, remembering the good old days.

A boy and a girl, laid on a carpet, their chins resting on their hands, waiting for the old man to tell a story of something that happened a long time ago. A story of the old man's life, a story of passion, a story that was captivatingly heartbreaking.

If there was an old retriever next to the rocking chair, it would've been perfect.