文稿:Chapter One. Winter came early that year. By the time the first snow fell, the old ferryman had not taken his boat out for three days. Some said the river had frozen; some said he was ill. Only he knew that he was waiting for someone. On the eighth day of the last month, the snow stopped. A young man in a black cloak appeared at the crossing, said nothing, and set a single copper coin on the bow. The ferryman glanced at it, untied the rope, and as the boat left the bank he said quietly: your father crossed this river the same way.
声匠团队
