The wind blew from the north, sweeping across the ridges of Thunderfall Mountain with a mournful howl, like an ancient ballad. Before the small cabin atop the mountain, Liu Qingyan sat on the stone bench where she had spent countless days and nights, a golden command token cradled in her hands as she gazed at the sky. Her hair had turned completely white, and the wrinkles on her face were like gullies in the mountains, etched with the marks of time. Her eyes were no longer bright, somewhat clouded now, yet whenever she looked up at the heavens, a flicker of her youthful radiance would shine within them.
Decades had passed. Even she could no longer remember exactly how many years it had been. She only remembered that on this day every year, she would sit here from dawn until dusk, from dusk until deep into the night. Then she would return to the cabin, light a lamp, and wait for someone who would never return.
The token in her hand grew faintly warm, as though it possessed life. She lowered her head to look at it. The character "War" engraved upon it had been worn somewhat blurry from her caresses, yet whenever she looked at it, it would gleam as if responding to her.
"Today seems a little different." Liu Qingyan spoke softly, her voice hoarse and frail. She had been ill for a long time, and she knew her days were numbered. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the very next moment. She was not afraid of death. In fact, she almost looked forward to it, because perhaps after she died, she would be able to see that person.
Above, the clouds began to churn. It was neither wind nor rain, but a strange sight she had never witnessed