In the Imperial Capital, a heavy snowfall draped the world in white mourning attire.
The snow had stopped, but the sky remained gray. The clouds hung low, as if some unspeakable presence cast a melancholic gaze over the capital.
Chen Ji and Wu Yun sat side by side on the rooftop, gazing up into those low-hanging clouds. He rested his Whale Blade across his knees, drawing it from its sheath again and again, closing it, then opening it once more.
A rooster crowed.
Wu Yun meowed: "Are you going to fetch water?"
Chen Ji stared intently at the sky: "We won't need to fetch water anymore."
Wu Yun tilted its head at him, its tail sweeping back and forth across the snow, creating a faint arc: "Why is that?"
