At the lonely empty courtyard, there was an incense furnace of agarwood with crumbs scattered about.
He stood next the carved pane window, slightly lifting his head to allow the breeze to draft through his face. Half of the man's face was damaged; the left side had burnt scars and along his chin as well. He heard soft steps behind him.
"You came," he turned around rigidly, reaching his hands to touch.
He couldn't see anything.
The breeze whips, the aeolian bells hanging on the window start to make sounds.
"I thought I would suffer when I lost my eyes. Now, I know I would not." A firm yet elegant and reserved smile curled up from the corner of his lips. "I can still use my hands to feel, use my ears to hear, and use my heart to look. The lotus in my courtyard should have bloomed by now. I smell the soft lotus in the air. I hear the rustling sound coming from the wind as it blew through the leaves, the sound of the water from the falling leaves, and also the sound of you."
He lifted his hands slowly, and gently said, "Let me feel your face. I want to know how you look like." Long fingers touched the face carefully, and a soft smile appeared on his face. "If someday I can see again, I would definitely recognize right away, then…"
Then I want to search for a person—a really important person.