The air was cold, and the wind gently rustled through the old tree branches. Fu Sheng walked slowly along the paths of Fengming Mountain, each step stirring a soft whisper among the leaves. She didn't know why she felt the need to climb there, but something was calling her without giving answers.
In a hidden clearing, a faint light filtered through the branches. There lay a man, with obsidian-black hair, wounded, breathing heavily.
Fu Sheng stopped, looking at him carefully. There was no fear in her eyes, only a warm curiosity.
— You're hurt, she said softly, kneeling beside him. May I help you?
The man opened his eyes, fixing her with a deep gaze, burdened with an invisible weight.
— No need… he murmured, but his voice trembled.
— But I want to help, she insisted with a timid smile.
At that moment, a ray of sunlight broke through the foliage, and his face brightened a little.
— I am Bai Jiu, he finally said, avoiding giving more details.
Fu Sheng looked at him carefully, feeling an inexplicable connection, but she didn't ask more. Words could wait.
In the days that followed, the two spent silent moments together — she tended to him delicately, he often watched her in silence, as if trying to remember something lost.
Every time their eyes met, time seemed to slow, and Fu Sheng's heart beat faster without understanding why.