It's snowing.
The salt particles turned into goose feathers and swirled as they fell.
The young master, as white as snow, lay quietly on the high platform, his eyes half-open and his breath faint.
Bloodstains were scattered all around, staining his snow-white fur collar and reddening his plain long coat.
How terrible! Young Master Fufeng has always been a clean person. Even three years ago in the dark and gloomy manor, he was wearing a clean white undergarment while waiting for death.
Fortunately, there was snow, the only pure color, falling gently and burying him deep in this silent moment.
The world was exceptionally peaceful; only the faint sound of breathing could be heard, nothing else.
Snowflakes fluttered and danced, carrying in a daze the call of a mother, "Fufeng... Fufeng..."
ridiculous.
He forced a smile, remembering the taciturn woman who always sat in the ancestral hall striking the wooden fish.
As a daughter of the Zhou family, she would rather give up her own child than compromise the well-being of the Zhou family.
Sometimes I really envy my uncle; he gets so much love from my mother.
But he only had himself.
“You’re so sickly, why do you need to hold power? You shouldn’t have been born, you should have died.” The father’s irritable voice came, filled with resentment and dissatisfaction.
He was sickly and frail; he would not live long. His fate was predetermined from birth.
He was a useless person. No one believed in him, no one cared about him, and no one wanted him to live.
If it weren't for a ray of light, I wouldn't have had these three years of barely surviving.
"Fufeng..."
This time, the sound came from near and far, breaking the silence and bringing a surge of noise and vibrancy.
Someone picked him up, hot tears streaming down their face. It was his cousin, who was screaming, "Fufeng, wake up!"
Someone took his hand, trying to offer him some warmth, with an unusual sense of helplessness, "Brother Fufeng, please don't get hurt, please be alive."
There were also his chattering younger siblings, who surrounded him with tears in their eyes, calling out one after another, "Brother Fufeng, Brother Fufeng."
His name is Fufeng, but he doesn't want to be surnamed Wang.
That's why Xu Mo called him Brother Fufeng, not Brother Wang.
Later, he really did forget that surname.
He liked being called Fufeng, and he liked it even more when Brother Xu called him that, just like now, one call after another.
Accompanied by a familiar and peaceful voice, he was finally able to fall heavily and peacefully into the darkness.
"Brother Fufeng!" Xu Mo cried out in alarm, "Xiao Si, Xiao Si, come quick!"
Wen Zhiyun, who had stumbled and fallen, hurriedly got up, forced himself to remain calm, and reached out to take his pulse. His pupils dilated instantly.
He couldn't believe it. He squeezed through the crowd again to examine Fu Feng's pupils, then picked up the inky bloodstains, barely able to speak.
"Xiao Si, what's wrong with Brother Fufeng? What happened to him?" Xu Mo asked, choking back tears. "Is he worrying too much? Or is he just exhausted from running around? It's all my fault that he's suffered like this."
Wen Zhiyun gently shook her head, her doe-like eyes filled with struggle, before finally saying, "It's poison."
Everyone on the platform fell silent.
The dignified young master of Fufeng has actually been poisoned.
“How could that be? Who would poison Brother Fufeng?” Jiang Sheng shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
The dignified head of the Wang family, with his ruthless methods and extraordinary temperament, is the most powerful local tyrant in Anshui County. Who dares to hurt him, and who can hurt him?
unless……
“It was Third Uncle.” Wang Mingyu finally spoke, his eyes filled with hatred. “Third Uncle and Wang Haoran, in order to seize power as soon as possible, conspired with Wang Yuyao to poison Fufeng. He has been suppressing it since Anshui County, at all costs.”
Despite the long journey, he showed no signs of weakness, and remained calm during the high platform discussion. Only after everything was completed did his last breath of relief come, and naturally, he reached his final moments.
He knew he wouldn't survive and wanted to do his best before his life ended.
It was not only for his friend Xu Mo, but also for all students, for the fairness of the imperial examinations, and for the long-term prosperity of the nation.
He said that the power of aristocratic families was stable and that it was difficult to break through the social class, which was not a good thing for the Dayu Dynasty. It was like the ice in winter. The longer it was frozen, the thicker the ice became, and the more difficult it was for the fish at the bottom of the river to break through the ice.
"Over time, the fish will lose their will to rise up, and the ice will become arrogant and conceited. The nation will be in danger, and the dynasty will be replaced."
"Although the world is bound to be divided after a long period of unity and then united after a long period of division, Fufeng still hopes that this land can remain stable for a longer period of time."
“He didn’t love the Wang family, but he loved the land that gave him birth and nurtured him, he loved his country and the peaceful world.”
"He said that after he died, he should not be sent back to Anshui County. He wanted to stay here and be buried at the foot of the highest hill, watching his country prosper and his friends rise to prominence."
Wang Mingyu looked at his cousin, who seemed to be asleep, his voice trembling but each word steady.
All the things that I had told myself in the dead of night are now being relayed in full.
"He said he was very lucky to have met Brother Xu, to have watched Brother Xu go from the village to Fengjing, to have watched Brother Xu step by step reach the peak, and he felt as if he himself was healthy and well..."
So he spared no effort to help, and so he burned in the final moments of his life.
He must have thought about what kind of life he would have had if he weren't sickly.
But in any case, what Xu Mo possesses is something he can never attain in this lifetime; he can only offer his blessings.
Wang Mingyu's emotions finally reached a breaking point, and he turned away, sobbing.
Xu Mo stood there, stunned, large tears streaming down her cheeks.
Jiang Sheng held Wang Fufeng's hand, as if trying her best to transfer warmth.
Only Wen Zhiyun felt the pulse disappear from her fingertips and sighed, "Brother Fufeng is gone."
He left, never to see Xue at eighteen years old in his life.
He remained serene, seemingly content to have friends by his side.
This world was not a happy place for him. His mother's indifference and his father's heartlessness were both painful. His frail body forced him to huddle in the courtyard, where the sunlight never reached him. His only joy was reading the letters.
He possessed extraordinary talent and a brilliant mind, but he lacked health.
He was too wonderful; fate had to take him away prematurely.
The snowflakes in the sky grew larger and larger, as if celebrating the arrival of the New Year, or as if concealing all filth.
Goose feathers were woven into a feather quilt to cover the noble and aloof young master.
With his head full of white hair, Xu Mo finally bent down and picked up his only confidant in his life, saying, "Let's take Fufeng home."
The Wang family is not his home.
Then their home should be given to him.
Acquaintances arrived from afar, some with fear, some with worry, some with mockery, and some with sarcasm.
Xu Mo seemed not to hear, his thin shoulders bursting with strength as he carried the emaciated young master toward the carriage.
Wen Zhiyun slowed his pace, Jiang Sheng followed closely behind, and Wang Mingyu escorted him with tears in his eyes.
Those division commanders who had come from Anshui County rose up in grief and tears streaming down their faces to catch up.
In the thirteenth year of the Heqing era, as the old and new dynasties transitioned, a heavy snow fell on the city for more than three days.
The snow is thicker than a wrist, deep enough to cover a person.
At that time, the young master of Fufeng died at the age of seventeen.
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