That voice carried hints of hoarseness; in each word and every line, sorrow and anger had been tucked away, leaving only an indescribable viciousness and wild arrogance. This wild arrogance that he had been born with had reached the end of the road; it had wandered amongst the thousands of miles of rivers and mountains the people of the country made their living by, twisted and turned for far too long within his chest, and now, finally broke free from his throat.

The sky was gloomy, bearing down on them heavily. Gazing at the endless grasslands around them, there was only that one narrow path overgrown with weeds and littered with fallen branches. The northwestern gale did not know to stop howling; it rustled the grass forlornly, whistling through the fissures in rocks and through the woods like the wailing of a mountain spirit. It felt as if a thousand, even a million years could pass in the span of a day.

The breeze puffed up his wide sleeves, as if it was telling him to go with the wind. Wen Kexing lifted his head and observed Zhou Zishu’s skeletal frame. The wind snapped the hair at his temples like a whip, lashing against the side of his face. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the image of that figure which had filled his wistful vision, and concentrated wholeheartedly on the burning agony he felt.

Cold wind swept into Zhou Zishu’s throat, choking him. That tune of his, that had wandered far off-pitch, cut off abruptly as he bent slightly at the waist to cough. On his near-transparent lips, there was only a spot in the centre of his lips where there was some colour--an extremely, extremely thin line. Yet, it was as if it held the trace of a smile, a dark, blood red.

Wen Kexing raised his head to gaze at the sky that looked like it was about to fall, and a flake of something cool settled on his face--the first snow of Dongting had descended.

Why did the heroic have to face his eventual downfall? Why did the beautiful have to grow old one day?

Suddenly, a sense of resentment that he could not put into words rose within his chest. The resentment seemed to be on his own behalf, but also seemed to be on someone else's behalf, almost spilling over. He was resistant against accepting it; his fingers trembled as he felt an all-encompassing desire so strong that it could tear apart the heavens, the earth, and the mortal world with its might. He wanted to interrogate the heavens…what was natural creation? Why did they have to be beholden to the orchestrations of natural creation just because they lived, and suffer them?

With trepidation, Gu Xiang watched her master look back at her, who smiled as he asked, “A-Xiang, do you like that dumb boy Cao Weining?”

Gu Xiang was dumbfounded for a moment, staring at her master in confusion. “Master…”