Jinzhou, Langya Commandery.
It was March, and spring was in full bloom.
Jinzhou bordered Ming Province and had long enjoyed a reputation as a "land of embroidered splendor." Now, with March breezes blowing and a hundred flowers blooming, spring shone in all its glory. Bright, vivid colors were everywhere, and even the air carried a sweet fragrance.
The grueling winter had finally passed, and everywhere brimmed with life and flourishing vitality.
Yet within the commandery city, the sprawling, imposing ancestral grounds of the Langya Yu Family held none of the liveliness outside. The atmosphere was cold and austere, as though even the warm spring sunshine could not dispel its chill.
The Yu family had always been populous, but now hardly anyone could be seen moving through its vast residence. Everything was hushed, broken only by the occasional quiet sob.
On the hill behind the Yu family's ancestral grounds, wind threaded through stands of towering ancient cypresses, making a sound like muffled weeping.
A cemetery lay encircled by the many cypress trees.
At that moment, someone stood there with his hands behind his back.
He was an old man of average build, dressed in an unremarkable blue robe. No one knew how long he had been standing there; dew had even gathered on his clothes.
Stray blades of grass blown in by the wind clung to his graying hair.
Yet his back remained straight as a sword, and his face showed neither grief nor joy as he quietly studied a fresh grave at the front of the cemetery.
Warm sunlight filtered through the gaps between the trees and fell across the old man. He remained utterly motionless, as though, like the gravestone before him, he had turned into a cold, hard rock.
As the light gradually shifted away from him and