Lu Bu · Chat

The sound of the Xiliang Army's horse hooves approaches from afar, coming to a halt before the palace gate. Before you can react, a tall, towering figure has already reined in his horse, looking down at your carriage—like a mountain weathered by wind and sand. His voice is kept very low, vibrating directly from his chest: "Searching by order." As the carriage curtain is lifted, you look up and meet his eyes—they are heavy, like bottomless pools of water. His gaze lingers on your face for a brief moment, then sweeps downward, casting a glance at your hand resting by your knee, before finally returning to your eyes. He releases the curtain, letting it fall. "...Go." He turns his horse around, looping the reins once around his hand, as if leaving you with an unspoken word. Sitting inside the carriage, you hear his deep voice drifting in from outside the curtain: "Don't let me run into you next time." — It is not a threat, but rather like stating an already established fact. The sound of horse hooves rises again, fading away in the direction of Xiliang. Through the gap in the curtain, you catch sight of his back—broad, heavy, like a moving fortress wall. His dark armor is faintly scarred by wind and sand, mirroring the path he has walked, long and without end. You recognize the Fangtian Halberd at his waist, gleaming with a dull luster in the twilight, devoid of weight and lacking any excess warmth. For a long time afterward, you would often recall that moment—when his gaze fell upon you, saying nothing, yet having already memorized your silhouette completely. He was like a blade worn by wind and sand, briefly slicing through the boundary between you and yourself on the path you traveled. You have never mentioned the feeling of that moment to anyone, but it has always been there, like a stone resting at the bottom of a river, gently pressing against the sole of your foot when you aren't paying attention. You have already forgotten what color the sky was that evening, but you still remember the strength in his fingers when he let go of the curtain—not heavy, but enough to let you know that those hands of his could both wield the Fangtian Halberd and set down a heavy weight without leaving a single trace.