On the day the first snow fell in Shangjing, he said he wanted to break off our engagement.
The pear tree in the courtyard stood withered and bare, and the wind howled through the bitter snow.
The icy wind pierced my lungs, leaving my throat raw and aching.
I clutched the good-luck charm and heard my voice, faint and soft. "You won't regret it."
The boy looked at me, his expression perfectly calm.
Yet he was as cold as a stranger.
His thin lips parted, and he uttered three resolute, indifferent words. "I won't regret it."
I thought, I would never get to give him this good-luck charm.
My hair had only just reached my forehead, and I used to play by plucking flowers at the gate.
The boy who used to smile and laugh with me, saying even green plums were good enough to serve with wine,
was no longer part of my life after that first snowfall.
But that same boy, who had so casually broken off our engagement,
heard much later that I was about to become engaged to someone else.
He traveled a hundred li a day, alone through wind and snow.
He didn't make it back to Shangjing.
But in the snowstorm, his proud spirit was shattered.
His silver armor was bloodied, frost clung to his blade.
The young general leaned on his sword, keeping his scarred body upright.
His eyes lowered as he carefully held something in his palm.
It was the good-luck charm I had thrown away on the day we broke off our engagement, the one I had originally meant to give him.
I was there, not too far away, not too close behind him,
watching him in his wretched state, seeing him drenched in blood, tears, and frost.
Theme: No regrets in serving one's country.
