The sweet fragrance of osmanthus mingled with the ink scent of the letter, spreading through the courtyard. Oscar's fingertips gripping the paper had turned white, his knuckles trembling slightly from the force. The smile that usually lingered on his face was gone, replaced by an unbearable bitterness. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes and fell onto the letter, blurring the ink into faint stains.
Liu Erlong stood beside him. Seeing his reddened eyes, she ultimately said nothing more, only gently patted his shoulder and gave him space to be alone.
Oscar drew a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing. With a thick nasal tone, he began to read word by word, as if afraid of disturbing the tender instructions hidden within the letter.
"Xiao Ao, by the time you open this letter, I should have passed through the smoke of Jiayu Pass and gone to meet Zhi Nian."
The opening words were like a blunt blade lightly cutting into his heart. He remembered the brutality of the battle at Jiayu Pass, the resolute flash of an arrow atop the city walls, and Ning Rongrong weeping in his arms after the battle, saying she would never again see Sister Zhixia, who had always smiled and called her "Little Princess." Those scenes were now as clear as if they had happened yesterday.
"That day, the wind atop the city wall carried the stench of blood. He was chained to the flagpole, Bibi Dong's black mist coiled around his wrists, yet when he looked at me, there was still a smile in his eyes. His lips moved soundlessly—I recognized the shape of those words. He said, 'Shoot.'"
Oscar's voice caught. He could imagine the scene then. Lin Zhixia had always been so proud, her hand as steady as a mountain when