The golden afterglow of the setting sun gently caresses this beautiful little village. On the golden oval roofs stand short, fat chimneys. It is almost dinner time, and curls of smoke are twisted out of the chimneys, creating a warm atmosphere.
In the white temple on the edge of the village, the priest who should have been praying devoutly was standing at the foot of the long stone steps with his sleeves rolled up.
He once again looked up at the man dozing against the stone pillar at the entrance of the temple, seeming to be hesitant to speak.
The priest felt that it was a bit of a blasphemy to doze off at the temple gate, but he remembered the feeling of being looked at by the golden eyes just now. In the eyes of the golden eyes, he was not even a speck of dust. The priest shrank his neck and decided to forget it. He just didn't understand why such a person would follow the gentle bishop. Even if his appearance was so outstanding that there was no flaw, his arrogant attitude would make people dare not approach him.
Inside the temple, a priest in a white robe stood behind the statue, holding a small statue in his hand and pressing it against his forehead. His spirit had appeared in the distant church.
Login to comment
Be the first one to comment...