It was 1 a.m., the dead of night. The house was still, save for the faint ticking of the clock.
Qin Yu'er had already tucked the Little Girl into bed hours ago and was now sitting at the dining table, her chin resting on her folded arms as sleep tugged at her eyelids.
Yawn.
She let out a soft sigh, her gaze shifting to the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to 1:03 a.m. She checked her phone for the umpteenth time—still no message.
"What is he doing out so late? He's not even answering my calls anymore," she muttered, irritation lacing her voice.
The urge to go out and look for him gnawed at her, but the memory of the last time they'd left the Little Girl home alone stopped her.
She had cried so hard, wailing for hours, that it broke their hearts. Both Qin Yu'er and Mo Fan had vowed never to leave her alone again.
With a resigned sigh, Qin Yu'er stood from the chair, her slender frame moving quietly through the dimly lit room.
"Well, he has his keys. I guess I should turn in for the night too…"
She walked to the bed where the Little Girl lay curled up under the covers, her soft breathing rhythmic and peaceful.
Qin Yu'er slipped under the blanket beside her, careful not to wake her.
Almost instinctively, the Little Girl stirred, turning toward Qin Yu'er and snuggling into her side. The child's small hands clutched at her, her warm, sleepy presence a stark contrast to Qin Yu'er's naturally cool body temperature.
A gentle smile softened Qin Yu'er's face. She ran her fingers through the Little Girl's light brown hair, her touch delicate. "Sweet dreams, my little princess," she whispered and kissed her forehead.
"Mmn…" The Little Girl made a tiny sound, nuzzling closer.
As the warmth of the child lulled her toward sleep, Qin Yu'er's thoughts drifted. Images of Mo Fan flickered in her mind—of the first time she'd seen him after being freed from the Glacier.
The memory was foggy at first, but suddenly his words resurfaced, clear as day.
_I know I'm not the one you're waiting for… That's why I apologise in advance._
Her lips curled into a faint smile. _So that's what he said back then…_
The thought brought her unexpected comfort as her eyes closed, and she fell into a serene slumber, her arms wrapped protectively around the Little Girl.
...
...
The wind howled mercilessly across an endless white expanse, its icy tendrils slicing through the air like frozen knives.
The landscape was a barren, lifeless void of snow and frost, stretching as far as the eye could see. No trees, no animals, no sun—only the relentless cold and the unyielding snowstorm.
Through this desolate world trudged a lone figure, battered and broken.
His body bore the scars of battles fought and nearly lost. Blood from a deep gash on his forehead had frozen into a crusted trail down his face, and his hair and eyelashes were caked with ice.
His left arm hung limply at his side, missing from the elbow down, and his torn clothes barely clung to his body, offering no protection from the biting cold.
In his remaining hand, he clutched the decapitated head of a monstrous creature. The grotesque face stared lifelessly ahead, its frozen features twisted in eternal rage. Blood, now frozen solid, dripped from its severed neck, leaving a trail of crimson ice behind him.
His eyes were hollow, devoid of the spark that once defined him. The weariness etched into his face spoke of pain beyond comprehension.
Yet, he moved forward, step by agonizing step, propelled by nothing but sheer mechanical willpower.
Each step was a battle.
His legs sank into the snow, now knee-deep, with every movement, and his muscles screamed for rest.
The storm intensified, whipping snow and ice around him in a blinding frenzy. He couldn't see more than a few feet ahead, but it didn't matter. He wasn't looking for a destination anymore.
He just walked.
The cold seeped into his bones, the numbness spreading from his fingertips to his very core.
*Pant*
His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each exhale forming a fleeting cloud of mist before vanishing into the void.
The monstrous head in his hand grew heavier with each passing second, yet he refused to let it go.
Minutes dragged into hours. Hours became days. Days turned into weeks, and the weeks stretched into years.
Time lost all meaning in this endless expanse of white, where there was no sunrise or sunset, only the eternal howl of the wind.
But he kept walking.
The memories of why he began this journey had long since faded.
The faces of those he loved, the laughter they once shared, the purpose that had driven him—all of it was a distant echo, buried beneath the relentless march of time and the unyielding cold.
After what felt like an eternity, the unchanging landscape began to shift.
The snow beneath his feet grew thinner, the ground harder. The storm weakened, the winds no longer screaming in his ears.
He stumbled forward, his body trembling with exhaustion, until the snow gave way entirely.
Before him, stretched a vast chasm, an abyss so deep and dark that its bottom was lost to the void.
The edge was jagged and sharp, a harsh demarcation between the endless white world behind him and the infinite darkness ahead.
He stopped.
For the first time in years—perhaps decades—he stood still.
His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his legs quivering from the strain of carrying him so far.
He stared into the abyss, its emptiness a reflection of his own hollow soul.
There was no joy, no relief, no sense of accomplishment at reaching the end of the path. There were no loved ones waiting to greet him, no warmth to welcome him back.
The great battle he had fought, the enemy he had slain, the sacrifices he had made—it had all led to this: Nothingness.
Thud!
The head of the monster slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. It rolled slightly, its frozen eyes locking onto him, as if mocking him even in death.
He stood there for a long time, staring at the abyss, his expression unreadable.
His mind was quiet, devoid of thought or feeling. The howling wind had silenced, replaced by an eerie stillness that pressed down on him like a weight.
Finally, his knees trembled.
He fell to the ground, his body giving out at last. The snow around him was stained with frozen blood, a stark contrast to the endless white.
As he lay there, his vision began to blur. The world around him seemed to waver, the edges of reality dissolving like mist in the morning sun. His eyelids grew heavy, and he closed them, surrendering to the darkness.
Crack!
In that moment, the world began to shatter. The white expanse crumbled like fragile glass, breaking into countless fragments that were swallowed by the abyss. The chasm yawned wider, its infinite void consuming everything in its path.
His body tilted forward, teetering on the edge. The wind returned, a final, deafening roar that carried him over the brink.
He fell.
The sensation was both weightless and crushing, as though he were simultaneously floating and being dragged into the depths. The darkness enveloped him completely, its cold embrace more suffocating than the storm ever was.
For the first time, he felt something stir within him—an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't fear or regret, but a quiet acceptance.
He had fought, he had endured, and he had reached the end. And though the abyss held no answers, no salvation, he welcomed its embrace.
As his form disappeared into the void, the shattered remnants of the white world followed, leaving behind nothing but silence.
And in that silence, there was... Peace.