Memory is too distant, so distant that it's a bit blurry.
Mr. Xiao recalled his childhood, a time almost to be called history.
That year he was one year old, just at the age of wearing crotchless pants and unable to hold his pee.
That year, he was not yet the Crown Prince, just a Prince born of a palace maid.
Although born with a Golden Soup spoon, it was the most broken type, as there were dozens of Princes like him.
It was natural that before he took the top spot in the Prince's assassination list with his sword, that part of his childhood wasn't exactly pleasant.
Aside from the flailing sound when his mother jumped into the well, all he could remember from that time was the buzzing of insects on that midsummer night.
He stood in a quiet garden in his crotchless pants, the insect-repelling magical artifact lamp extinguished by an eunuch who took dirty money, hung high on the pavilion's eaves.
