In the depths of winter in the twenty-second year of Xihe, a man who looked like a scholar was recovering from his wounds at A Ying's home. He was pale and aloof, and spoke little.
A Ying didn't know his name. She only remembered his exquisitely skilled hands, adept at painting in the meticulous ink-wash style.
Before leaving, he painted a picture for A Ying as a token of thanks.
After that farewell, they were separated by a sea of people.
It wasn't until years later that A Ying learned the man who had recuperated at her home for several months was named He Wanzhou.
By then, He Wanzhou had become a dreaded Jinyiwei guard, with a black gauze hat, an embroidered belt, and a silk robe bearing a python. He was like a ghost or a god. Countless innocent souls had fallen beneath his blade, and everyone wanted him dead.
But what A Ying thought of was the spring night in the twenty-third year of Xihe, just before He Wanzhou left after recovering from his illness.
Blue skies, a pale moon, and long, slanting rain.
He Wanzhou sat alone in front of the veranda, tossing his paintbrushes one by one into a brazier until they burned to ash.
With his back to her, he spoke softly and gently. "A Ying, from this day on, I may have to become a bad person."
Theme: Regrets can be made right.
