The sky turned dark, and as dusk fell, the ancestral hall at Duke Shun Mansion was dimly lit by candlelight, which cast cold shadows on the lacquered memorial tablets.
Ning Suxuan tore page after page from the scripture she had been copying by hand and threw them into a copper basin.
The flames leapt up, licking the pages.
"I forgot to mention, Duke Zhongyong's legitimate son got married a while back."
"They have only this one son, so the ceremony was grand, with half of Shangjing's officials coming to celebrate. That night, Duke Zhongyong, drunk after the festivities, reminisced about you."
"After your accident, he spent years trying countless ways to solve the unfinished chess game you left, yet every move felt like strangling the last slim thread of hope."
Her fingertips hovered in the air, hesitant to fall.
"They say chess is like life; he always thought this endgame had no solution."
