The sky turned dark, the dusk enveloped all around, inside the ancestral hall of Duke Shun Mansion, the candlelight was dim, casting a cold and dark shade on the plaques.
Ning Suxuan carefully tore apart the pages of the copied scriptures in her hand, one by one, and tossed them into a copper basin.
The flames leapt high, licking the pages.
"I forgot to mention, the eldest son of Duke Zhongyong got married some time ago."
"They have only this one son, so the celebration was grand, with almost half of the officials in Shangjing attending the festivities. That night, Duke Zhongyong drank and drunkenly mentioned you again."
"After you had your accident, he spent these years deducing countless solutions for the unfinished chess game you left him. Yet, with every move he made, it felt as if he was personally severing the last thread of hope."
Her fingertip hovered mid-air, hesitating to fall.
