Snow. What a heavy snow. The overwhelming whiteness buried the whole world. I stood on the half-slope of a barren mountain and looked ahead to see a tomb. The stone tablet in front of the grave was half covered with snow. There were no words on it, only a crooked plum blossom engraved on it.
I looked down at myself. I was wearing pale mourning clothes, and my sleeves were soaked with tears and frozen to a hard layer. The wind blew over and cut my face like a knife, but I felt no pain. I just stood there, like a ghost trapped in someone else's body.
There was the sound of footsteps behind me, crunching on the snow.
I look back.
A man in black armor walked out of the snow. His face was very young, probably in his mid-twenties, and his eyebrows were exactly the same as Gu Shen's. It's just that Gu Shen's eyes are warm, like lake water in March, but these eyes are empty and can't hold anything.
His armor was covered with knife marks, there was a crack on his shoulder, and his blood had frozen into dark red. He walked extremely slowly, and every step seemed to use up the last bit of his strength.
He walked to the grave and knelt down.
"Awan."
He spoke, his voice so hoarse that it was almost inaudible.
"I'm late."
