On that cold morning, Wu Xin stepped out of his palace, wandering aimlessly, unsure of where he was going or where his fevered heart wished to lead him.He had spent a night unlike any other—waiting since dusk.Though he could not explain what exactly he was waiting for.
For whom was his heart longing?For what was his soul aching?
His chest felt tight, his spirit unsettled, and his heart trembled with an unplaceable unease, as though an invisible hand was pressing upon it.He sensed—deep within—that something momentous was about to happen…But what could it be?
He asked himself over and over, searching for a reason.At first, he blamed it on the weight of protecting the kingdom.But he dismissed that thought almost immediately. He was brave, unshaken by hardships, undefeatable by enemy or fate.
Perhaps… it was loneliness—creeping in after so many years alone.
He considered visiting his friend Mei Ling, that gentle and innocent girl whose kindness often soothed the heart. Maybe seeing her would ease this strange heaviness…But no. His soul refused the idea, as if something far deeper was calling him—an echo from somewhere he didn't yet understand.
He began pacing around his room, searching for air, for a breeze that could loosen the tightness around his heart.When he reached his wardrobe, he suddenly stopped, as if struck by an old memory.
He opened the door slowly and stared at a childish drawing he had kept for centuries—whether he had drawn it as a child, he was no longer certain.It was a poorly shaped flower, unattractive and barely recognizable.In truth, it was nothing but a messy scribble.
Yet he touched it with such unexpected tenderness, as though it were precious.With each gentle stroke of his fingers, his sorrow deepened until he could hardly breathe.He returned the drawing to its place with quiet care… then left the room.
His chamber, his garden, even his palace—all suddenly felt too small, too suffocating.If he stayed a moment longer, he feared he would truly suffocate.
So he chose to take a walk alone.He didn't think about the destination—his feet simply carried him.Or perhaps… fate was guiding him.
Was responsibility really what troubled him that night?Did the furnace matter that much to him?
How naïve that thought seemed.He had convinced himself simply to calm his restless heart.
His wandering steps brought him to Jin Hai Palace, as though reminding him of the need to appoint a new keeper for the sacred furnace.For too long, the palace had been without someone capable of handling the powerful artifacts and dangerous talismans that piled up without destruction.
In that moment of feigned logic, he remembered the furnace… and its keeper.At that very thought, his heart fluttered, and a strange, weightless warmth washed over him.
He hurried to the main chamber where the sacred furnace—a vessel revered with the same gravity as death—sat in its place.He cast a brief glance around and saw the old man dozing peacefully on his rocking chair near the courtyard, in a serenity so absurd it was almost humorous.
Wu Xin smiled faintly and turned to leave, his spirit slightly calmer—But then he froze.
There—on the ground—lay someone who should not have been there.A figure that looked like… a woman.
She was curled on the floor without a mat or blanket, holding her knees like an unborn child, as though the cold night had forced her body into itself.Her long black hair was the only thing covering her, a single strand falling across her face, hiding her features.
A rare, unfamiliar sensation stirred in Wu Xin.He stepped closer, slowly, intending to move the strand aside—perhaps he would recognize her…
But she shifted softly, like a child dreaming, and he realized she was real, not a vision or hallucination.
Without a word, he draped his cloak over her small frame.Feeling the sudden warmth, the girl blinked awake with a tender yawn, stretching like a cat basking in the sun after a comforting nap.
When the cloak almost slipped off her shoulders, Wu Xin instinctively turned away, heat rushing to his face.He shouted—loud enough to rouse the old man from his sleep:
"Have you no shame sleeping like that… here of all places?! Put on the cloak at once!"
The girl touched the fabric lightly and murmured with sleepy confusion:
"You call this a cloak? Fine then… how am I supposed to wear it?"
Wu Xin shot the old man a sharp, accusing look… then stormed out, feeling a strange, warm anger he could not explain.