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Under The Bamboo Parasol 50 Old Tree

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In a faraway place, where the trees were full of green leaves and there was a garden of flowers in their full blooming glory. The place was atop a small mountain, overlooking a small and desolated village that seemed to be nothing more than a few crumbling sticks and broken stones.

Right next to the village in a gra.s.s field were about thirty wooden stakes that stood erect in neat rows, among the tall gra.s.s. The wood had been hastily put down as a mark of remembrance. The stakes of which were old, with some that were slightly newer, getting replaced as soon as the wood had worn down.

There were two figures that stood among the tall gra.s.s, silently ripping out the weeds and cutting the gra.s.ses that had grown well above an adult's waist.

"How long has it been?" Feng Rong asked slightly dazed as he plucked the weeds that had nearly tangled itself among the wooden stakes, almost becoming one. Weeds were such stubborn plants that always strived hard to survive, entangling the life out of the most healthy of plants. Feng Rong pulled with all his might before the weed let go in defeat.

"Three hundred years, maybe." Feng Yun answered as she helped him out, cutting the gra.s.ses. Making a memorial site slightly more presentable before their eyes.

Though this was not particularly on show for anyone, they still did their best. Feng Yun looked at the young boy who had on a heavy expression while he was doing the work and inwardly sighed.

"I think that these stakes are still pa.s.sable." Feng Yun says as she inspects the stakes that had already been grown over with a layer of moss, though the wood seemed old, it was still quite st.u.r.dy, not yet infested with insects.

Everything was done with the utmost care, they were always careful not to disturb the old bones that were resting below. Even if there was a chance that those old bones had long become the remenants of dust long ago.

By the time they had cleared out all the weeds and gra.s.ses, it was already dark outside, this time, without the slightest light from places nearby. The stars twinkled like bonfires one would see from a distant mountain. They were not quite tired of course, it would take more than manual labor to tire out their unique bodies.

Feng Yun looked up at the night sky. There was a slight arc on her lips. Such brightness was rare to the small village, especially when not a single lamp had been lit in centuries. While she had not seen this scene since the village was inhabited by living vessels, it was nevertheless a scene that invoked memories from long ago.

"Ah Rong, look up at the stars, it hasn't been so bright here in a long time." She called out to Feng Rong who was still sitting in front of the field of remembrance for a great while, his eyes were closed and he was in a kneeling position. Upon hearing her voice, his eyes opened up to serenely look at the night sky. Nodding his head, he agreed and slowly got up from the place he had been kneeling, where the gra.s.s had already formed a concave indent entrenched in the earth.


He dragged his body into an old cottage that had fallen into disrepair and had been rebuilt many times, the cycle repeating itself again and again. There, he climbed onto an old wooden bed and laid there. His eyes open, staring at the thatched roof that was above.

Feng Yun quietly guarded outside. Looking above at the starry sky, then upon the neatly trimmed gra.s.s. The people that were buried there were the unfortunate souls of the villagers who were the casualties of some rogue bandits who had robbed the place.

There was a light cough from within the cottage, which made her attention s.h.i.+ft from viewing the gra.s.s to the person currently within the room.

"I can't remember their names anymore." Feng Rong says as he stares up at the nothingness. Time was but a blur to him now, all the events of the past were nothing but random flashes of light that had gone by rather quickly, that has led them to this moment.

A strange yet melancholic smile appeared on Feng Yun's lips, "It is good enough to know whether it was a good or bad memory, the rest is not important. Just sleep, such memories fade easily and by tomorrow, it will be fine." Feng Yun gently said.

Feng Rong, who was on the crudely made bed did not seem to believe what had been said. But still, he thanked her.

The night was sleepless. By the time the next sun arose, two figures were already standing above the small mountain, overlooking the small village. The village was well hidden, but perhaps this was because not too many have trodden upon it in recent years. It could be seen hat in the time that the village no longer had inhabitants, nature had taken over, thickening the branches and widening the leaves of the vegetation that grew in the perimeter.

Feng Yun came close to the tree that overlooked the village, giving it a pat, as though praising it for its hard work over the years. Though it was old, it was still full of vitality, almost as much life imbued within as when it was first planted.

"It was said that when living things have been alive for a long time that there was a chance that it would develop sentience and embody that of the living creatures that once surrounded it." Feng Yun spoke as she ran her hand over the rough bark of the tree.

"Though such a tree has been alive for a long time, it is still not long enough." Feng Rong said as he sat beneath the trees for shade.

The air was warm and slightly humid. Such was to be expected in the southern provinces, as four seasons were similar to that of spring. It would have been the best time to go to the spring flower festival that was a city away.
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Under The Bamboo Parasol 50 Old Tree summary

You're reading Under The Bamboo Parasol. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): littleredblossom. Already has 498 views.

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