“Chang Er brought good news in the morning. He said your brother would be returning from the battlefield.” 

“I assume he has won yet another war.” His smile hid a small tint of weariness. 

He did not detest his older brother but was merely annoyed at himself for not being able to accomplish the same. 

It was just a moment of sibling rivalry, some would say. 

“The weather has gotten colder, my son. Xue Er—” 

“Niang, I know. I know. I’ve already promised you. I’ll head back to my room, and you should too; the evening air is not the best for you either.” He winked at his mother playfully. 

Autumn was his least favorite, but the crudeness of winter? Only Gods know the dread that loomed within his soul. 

If it was not for the fear of his own salubrity in the sight of others, he would bathe in the chilling frost without having any regards to his own body. 

"Unwavering essence of fate and life,

Time ticks with this forlorn vessel of mine,

I am a stranger to a soldier's knife,

While do not possess the wisdom to shine,

Yet, retaining a small forsaken hope,

Hold on to everything like a rope."

Perhaps, it was a ballad to soothe the eavesdropping servants, or rather to relinquish a man’s will — few were able to recognize it. 

Even the heavens seemed to ridicule this man’s fate. 

The sound of shattering glass could be heard from his chamber, followed by a thud colliding with panic. 

“Young master!” A female servant cried out, hurrying to Ran Xue’s aid. 

“No, no. I’m fine… Do not call… my mother…” a voice barely audible. 

As he tried to pull himself up, a furious cough made him fall to his knees, his right hand grasping the wooden table for dear life. 

Then, light dissipated from his eyes. 

To be continued. 

[Thanks for reading! The song I listened to while writing: 眩暈SIREN - 思い出は笑わない]