"On such a night journey,"
Orey continued in a calm voice, "there's a person ahead who ignited a flicker of light. You don't know where that light shines nor where it points, but in this cold, pitch-dark night, it's the only light and warmth you can see."
"Then you might feel compelled to follow that light. You don't know whether the direction the person headed is correct, nor whether you'll reach the destination, but—"
He paused, "since the world has come to this, why not give it a try? Dying in the dark is still dying; dying on the path chasing the light is also dying."
He raised his head, gazing at the slowly rising sun on the horizon, "Perhaps, we really can walk toward the dawn?"
"I grew up in chaos and hunger since I was young. What I saw was all grass-like lives."
He turned back to look at the young officer beside him and smiled, "And withered grass in the wind only needs a tiny spark to burst into flames."
