Dawn was breaking, the sky a hazy gray.
In the brazier, charcoal embers glowed faintly.
The memorial tent had not yet been taken down. As Zhang Qing held an all-night vigil for his sister, his heart leaped in alarm when 'Master Han' suddenly appeared, covered from head to toe in blood.
"Master!"
"Where have you been for the last three days? Your injuries..."
His heart tightened as he remembered what Han Ying had said upon leaving three days prior. He hurried forward to support the man, stumbling as he helped him into his room and lit a candle.
As it went in many Martial Dao tales, once a person started arranging their final affairs, it was a sign their fate was sealed. His own elder brother, Ji Xiu, often said as much.
Zhang Qing had already resigned himself to the idea that once his sister's vigil was over, he would immediately have to don mourning clothes for 'Master Han' and perform the rites of a disciple.
