In a prosperous place like the capital, an empty mountain was a rare sight - the one behind Southern Sky Temple.

Inside the valley were dried up trees, bereft of verdant leaves and covered with a thick layer of silvery snow.

Large flakes were still scattering; the winds howled like beasts from the entrance and engulfed the entire area, pushing down the dead trees.

A wooden pavilion, one grave, one memorial tablet.

Feiyun personally dug up the grave before glancing at the beauty trapped in ice. She seemed to be asleep - albeit, never to wake up again. He closed his eyes before gently placing the sculpture down to the grave and filled it up again.

Life was unpredictable, ladened with sadness.

The wondrous talent from the Ji, virtually peerless in her own era with too many suitors...