Su Qing stood outside the pavilion in white, holding an umbrella. Her left cheek was covered in scars, the ones she had carved into it herself back then. A few more strands of her hair had turned white, as white as the snow today.
There was only one jade hairpin in her hair. It was somewhat damaged, but she had worn it for nearly fifteen years.
Now, everyone in the martial world and the imperial court wanted her dead. She had been hiding here for nearly ten years. Because of that person, nobody from the court or the martial world dared come near.
She held out her hand. Her palms and the backs of her hands were covered in scars. Snow fell into her palm and melted at once.
She looked up. The sky was pitch-black. A tear of blood slid down her cheek and fell onto the snow, melting all the snow on the ground...
The past was gone, and there would never again be anyone to ride with her through the martial world and raise a cup in shared celebration. All that remained was the memory buried deepest in her heart: the moonlight shining on the pavilion. (Suddenly felt like writing a martial arts story.)
