The minds of mortals often harbor subconscious desires to play the roles of saviors or the vulnerable. On one hand, they yearn to possess unyielding strength to overcome any challenge and accomplish the impossible; on the other, they crave the solace of tenderness, longing to retreat like children into a comforting embrace after confronting the world's cruelty. Humans are both resilient and fragile.
He had hollowed out the corners of the legs of several chairs in the back row, embedding combustible phosphor stones within them. Dressed in black, he lurked in the shadows until the guests of Guanhai Lou had lined up and entered the hall. To show respect, the crowd remained orderly, with little whispering.
It was only when Zhang Hou, the Minister of Revenue and the event's host, ordered the guests to move their seats closer to the main hall that the chairs embedded with phosphor stones were dragged across the floor. The deep red carpet showed no trace of the friction, and no one thought to look down. Then, the accident struck.
Xue Rong, having finished her meal, was strolling through Guanhai Lou's grand hall when she was drawn by the commotion of the guests. Unthinkingly, she followed the crowd.
At the rear of the hall, she spotted a man in black sitting on the floor, his raised collar obscuring half his face. He pulled a dagger from his pocket—its blade glinted coldly—then rolled up his sleeve. With a grit of his teeth, he slashed deeply into his left arm. Blood gushed forth.
Xue Rong, watching from afar, gasped in horror.
Before she could react, a thunderous *boom* erupted from the front hall. Thick smoke billowed out, mingled with screams and wails.
When the smoke partially cleared, the black-clad man had vanished.
"My lord, watch out for the debris!" someone shouted amid the chaos.
A moment later, as the haze thinned, Minister Zhang Hou stood surrounded by shattered wood and stone debris. Yet before him, shielding his body, was a stranger in servant's attire, covered in dust. The man's raised left arm, having taken the brunt of the blast, was half drenched in blood. Droplets fell silently onto the carpet, disappearing into its crimson fibers.
Zhang Hou was momentarily speechless. The man guarding him wore a pained expression but showed no hesitation.
"The situation escalated suddenly. Are you unharmed, my lord?" the man asked urgently. As more attendants rushed over, he added calmly, "Something exploded at the back of the hall. Fortunately, I was close enough to protect you."
Though Zhang Hou sensed something amiss, survival took precedence. Escorted by his guards, he hurriedly left the scene. Before departing, he asked the servant's name. The man replied, "Bai Changming, courtesy name Ye Sha."
The minister's suspicions deepened, but he said nothing further in the chaos.
Bai Changming's wound was hastily bandaged with torn cloth offered by bystanders. He reached into his pocket—had no one helped, he'd prepared his own bandages. He estimated that within three days, the Ministry of Revenue would likely contact him.
The pain was intense, but success was almost certain.
Just as he prepared to slip away unnoticed, he glanced up and froze. High above, Xue Rong stood gripping the railing, her gaze locked onto him.
The flawlessly orchestrated chaos, the near-instantaneous shift of positions, the rehearsed dialogue…
Xue Rong parted her lips slightly but said nothing. She turned and fled Guanhai Lou.
Long after, the name "Bai Changming, courtesy name Ye Sha" echoed relentlessly in her mind.
His gentle smile as a diviner, his inscrutable, upturned eyes, his stunned expression in black attire… and the enigmas surrounding him.
When Bai Changming looked at Xue Rong, and when Xue Rong remembered Bai Changming, each saw only fathomless riddles.
Fate seemed intent on entwining their paths—not merely through chance, but through a higher, inscrutable causality.
"Mom, do you remember that old book you had? The one with the tattered dark blue cover, painted with a turtle, written in ancient script—four characters, I think?"
Her mother frowned, then retrieved a box from the study. Inside lay an ancient text.
"A turtle? Foolish girl, that's the sacred beast of the Xia Dynasty." Delighted, Xue Rong took the book and retreated to her room.
By midnight, she placed the thin volume beside her pillow. On its cover, four characters gleamed:
*Hetu Luoshu*—*The River Map and the Luo Scroll*.