But no matter which scene flashed through her mind, they all ended just as she remembered: under a blood-soaked maple tree, a young man in white, his chest stained red and impaled by a Long Sword, staring at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes...
Atop the cliff, the rain fell in a torrent. In that moment, the world seemed to hold nothing but the downpour and the rumbling thunder.
Jiang Lan was also dressed in snow-white robes, utterly spotless. His ink-black hair was damp with mist from the splashing rain.
He just stood there, quietly watching Jiang Ruxian approach, choosing neither to retreat nor to leave.
Jiang Ruxian watched him as well, her pace unhurried. After a moment, she came to a stop before Jiang Lan.
A hazy mist rose from the rain, swirling around the two of them.
Although the world was filled with the sounds of the pouring rain and muffled rumbles of thunder, it seemed as if all sound had suddenly vanished for the two of them.
