For his first murder, Feng Qin felt nothing special. He thought he would shake, scream, and be unable to sleep at night. However, he did not. With one horizontal slash of his long sword, Shang Yu’s battered body collapsed to the ground. He then quietly wiped the sword, sheathed it, and walked out, without even looking back.
He was a good fighter, but he had never been to war.
A solitary lamp is lit, and Feng Qin, dressed in black from head to toe, is unable to sleep. It is not because he has killed someone, but because he is remembering too much from the past.
When the family was prominent, every time his mother rode off to war on her tall horse, his father would look out from the high attic. In fact, Feng Qin had looked, but there was nothing to see there. However, his father would stand there for a whole day, and when he came downstairs, his feet would be stiff and he would stumble.
Later, for some inexplicable reason, my mother became a criminal and was executed by being torn apart by horses outside the Meridian Gate. Feng Qin’s eyes widened. When he closed them, he recalled the elongated, deformed limbs being torn apart, and he would tremble.
My father was sold into slavery, and he mingled with the crowd, but was singled out. My father stood in the pale morning light, expressionless, and said
“I don’t know him.’
Feng Qin trembled. He remembered every detail, every sound and vibration on his eardrums. How he had picked up the stone in front of everyone’s eyes, the blood on his father’s forehead, gushing and dazzling, making him unable to open his eyes, and the grey hair that had appeared overnight next to the blood.
Feng Qin stared quietly at the candlelight. His eyes were a little teary and puffy from not blinking for so long. The servant’s child died in his place, and he hid his martial arts skills under the princess’s orders.
Now, he has recklessly spoken his name. He has always known that he must survive, but when he saw the princess’s eyes, he spoke. Those eyes had an innate air of nobility and condescension, looking at you with a faint tenderness and compassion. He suddenly felt so tired. Why has he always had to survive?
Life has become meaningless, and secrets are no longer secrets.