Tap...
Tap...
The middle-aged man in brocade robes paced back and forth through the dim, cramped room. His expression was steady, yet his footsteps betrayed his impatience.
A boy lay on the small bed in the corner of the cramped room.
He lay there quietly.
The surrounding darkness continually gnawed away at the flickering firelight.
Until, at a certain moment, the boy slowly opened his eyes.
Without a sound, he sat up. His gaze rested for several breaths on the bloodstained dagger at his side. Silently, he picked it up, swept his eyes across the dark room, and without a word or greeting, rose to his feet and walked outside.
The pacing middle-aged man noticed nothing. Only when the boy passed by his side did he suddenly start and instinctively call out to him.
"Qin Yi."
The boy stopped and looked back. His pitch-black pupils held no light at all, only darkness.
Nie Junyue's heart trembled slightly, but he still murmured, "Sorry... I couldn't bring her back."
"...I know."
The boy's voice was hoarse, as though it were catching in his throat.
Nie Junyue opened his mouth. After a pause, he finally forced out a few words.
"That person was too strong. I... did my best."
The boy lowered his eyes slightly, nodded, and silently handed him the translated copy of Nine Songs from his arms.
After doing so, he took the dagger and continued toward the door.
Nie Junyue seemed to have something he wanted to say, something he wanted to ask—where are you going? But the words caught in his throat, and he could not speak them.
Some questions already had their answers without needing to be voiced.
Creak—
The wooden door was pushed open, and a cold wind instantly surged inside.
The boy stood half-turned in the