The bitter cold of the Well of Heaven is rivaled only by the warmth of its people. Young Zhang Yihao once drea…
The bitter cold of the Well of Heaven is rivaled only by the warmth of its people. Young Zhang Yihao once dreamed of flying; his master spun him round and round in laughter. Years later, with silvered hair and an unsteady hand, Zhang Yihao carried on the tradition with his own apprentice. In that joyful whirl, he seemed to glimpse his old master smiling, blessing the moment across years.