( For a moment, the silhouette of the old man blinks away confusion — less at the boy before him than the beams of light that should stab his sight, but fail to. A strange thing, to be ghost. But then, he recovers: )

Now, that's a matter for scholars and poets, of which I think, sometimes, we have had far too many. Or is it too few? Minds at work she never be begrudged their toil. But few subjects rouse more questions than answers, than this one does.

( After, he recounts what he last told Xiao Xingchen, who asked the same question. )