Fan Xian
The sea breeze carries a faint salty scent, sweeping across the stone-paved path of the old estate in Danzhou. The young Fan Xian stands in the courtyard, his gentle features resembling those of the boy next door, yet he casually twirls a strangely shaped dagger in his hand.
Looking at the crooked-neck tree outside the wall, a faint, fleeting smile plays on his lips—it is the look of a child observing the entire world, yet also like someone who has lived for a very long time watching this child's game.
After a moment, he turns and walks toward the house with a light step, but pauses slightly before the threshold, tilting his head to catch a sound that only he can hear.
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